The Marriage Lie(91)

“As soon as I get my house back.” Unlike Mom’s voice, shrill and verging on hysterical, I’m careful to keep mine even. “It’s still a crime scene, and I’m still at Evan’s.”

When he hears his name, he gives me a chin lift.

“That sweet man,” Mom says. “Give him a big hug from me, will you? Tell him I can’t thank him enough. Tell him right now.”

A warm rush of affection pushes a smile up my cheeks, because Mom’s right. Evan Sheffield is a gem. He’s one of the good guys. Despite the horrendous calamity that collided our two worlds together, I feel like I’ve somehow won a prize.

“Mom says she can’t thank you enough.”

Evan looks up from the sink with a grin, then flips off the faucet and chucks the pan in the trash. “Tell her I like pie. Cherry especially.”

I do, and Mom promises to bake him one very soon. She sighs, a long release of stress and relief. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

We chat a bit longer, but I don’t tell her about talking to Will. I’m not ready. I need to hammer out a plan with Evan first; and until I’m certain about what I’m going to say to Detective Johnson, I don’t want to involve anyone else, least of all my mother, in either lies or half-truths. I plead exhaustion and promise a longer call tomorrow, and then we hang up.

Evan slides an icy bottle of beer across the table to me and sinks into a chair. “The police found the missing AppSec money.”

“All of it?”

“Almost all. Looks like it’s short a couple hundred grand.” He pauses to take a swig. “They found the statements on Corban’s computer.”

The realization is like the unveiling of a statue, when someone whips off the sheet and all is revealed. My understanding is that instant. I don’t wonder for a second how the money got there, or why.

“Will. He put it there to frame Corban.”

Evan shrugs, but his expression says he doesn’t disagree. “Corban worked at the bank that handled all of AppSec’s transactions. He—”

“Moved the stock to a company he controlled in the Bahamas, then sold it for top price. I know. Corban told me a thousand times. But why would Will leave all the money? If he went to all that trouble to steal it, why not leave just enough to implicate Corban and take the rest?”

“Maybe it wasn’t only about implicating Corban. Maybe it was also about clearing suspicions. With the money accounted for, the police wouldn’t have any reason to look for him.”

“Except now they suspect him of murder.”

“Maybe. But as far as I can gather, they have very little to go on beyond a trampled-down patch of grass by your shed and the bullet the coroner dug out of Corban’s skull. Pretty useless until they can find the gun it came from.”

“Which they won’t.” I don’t know what Will did with it, but I know this for a fact: that gun will never be found.

Evan takes a long drag from his bottle and shakes his head. “Before last night, I would have said no way. No way can somebody execute that kind of crime without making a mistake. Nobody is that smart. But your husband just might be, because while all this is going down here, Liberty Air retrieved his briefcase from the crash site. It was pretty wrecked and filthy, and it’s been rained on repeatedly, but his laptop was still in one piece. It’s being sent to the lab for analysis, but who knows what, if anything, they’ll be able to pull off there.”

I do. I know what they’ll be able to pull off there—nothing. Not one speck of evidence that Will was involved in any way in the AppSec heist. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that every single byte they manage to pull from that machine will prove without a shadow of a doubt exactly the opposite, that Will was an ideal employee who wouldn’t dream of stealing a dime.

“Look, I consider you a friend, which means I appreciate the dilemma you’re in. If the police find evidence that Will’s still alive, if they can pin Corban’s death on him, Will is going to prison. No doubt about it. I know after everything, seeing that happen would be devastating.”

I nod, waiting for the “but” that’s coming at me like a missile.

“But. As your attorney, I have to counsel you not to lie. Perjury is a crime, and it’s a serious offense. Spousal privilege says you don’t have to reveal the contents of the phone call, but if they ask if you’ve spoken to Will since the crash, and you say something I know to be false, our confidentiality still applies, but I won’t be able to defend you.”

“I understand. And I wouldn’t put you in that position.”

“You came awfully close last night.” His words are firm, but his tone is gentle.

“I won’t do it again.”

“Fair enough.” He nods, slapping both his hands on the table as if the matter’s settled. “So any idea what you’re going to say? It’ll work in both of our favors if I get a heads-up before we walk into there tomorrow morning.”

I picture my husband standing in the shadows by the shed, his face hard with fury, aiming a gun at a man through my window. I picture him pulling the trigger without hesitation, sending that bullet flying down its deadly path, and my stomach sours. Yes, he did it for me, to save me, but still. Will murdered a man, shot him dead and, when it comes down to it, all over a pile of money.