If You Must Know (Potomac Point #1)(53)

My hand gripped the base of my throat. “So now what?”

“You’d mentioned that your husband was in Abaco recently. My guess is that they’re probably cruising around the Caribbean. Boats don’t have to file travel plans like planes do, so it makes our job a little harder. Most yachts have GPS and other navigation safety equipment, though, so with the MMSI number—the maritime mobile service identity—we can track him via public apps like Boat Finder as long as he’s got his AIS turned on, which he should for safety purposes. If he docks somewhere, we will hope the authorities can pick him up.”

I let the “authorities” remark go because that conversation would send my mother over the edge. “In other words, we keep waiting?”

“You keep waiting, and I keep digging. I want to build a solid case so we can go to the FBI instead of local cops. Lyle doesn’t know you’ve hired me. The way he’s been calling, sending the deed, and such tells me he thinks he’s still a few steps ahead of you. My bet is that he’s trying to woo this woman, so he’ll be sailing around those islands as long as he thinks you aren’t chasing him.”

I closed my eyes, unable to reconcile this reckless, selfish version of my husband—the fugitive with a bosomy mistress—with the man I’d known and loved. My temple throbbed as my brain tried to keep up with Stan’s summary.

Meanwhile, he kept talking. “Boats break down all the time. He might need to wait a few days in one spot for repairs. And weather can ground him, too, so a storm at sea might keep him in one place long enough for us to grab him. We’ll catch up to him. Be patient, and if he calls, don’t let on.”

My entire body had overheated to the point where I shook feverishly. The intrigue and fodder of an international search for a felon meant we’d leapfrog ahead of the Millers and Blairs in terms of gossip-worthy conversation. It could also affect my ability to keep my preschool job, let alone any attempt to get my old job at the elementary school. Mom could lose her mind under that scrutiny.

Maybe the deal Erin had struck with Max would work for me.

“What if we don’t want to involve the authorities?” I couldn’t look at my family. “Can I offer not to press charges in exchange for him paying back the money and signing over custody and the sale of the house?”

“Well, I can’t advise you to offer that deal because, technically, that’s extortion and illegal.”

“Why is it illegal?”

“The short answer is because when the state prosecutes a crime, it does so on behalf of the people of the state—or country in federal cases—so the victim doesn’t have the right to get a bunch of benefits in exchange for the criminal not being prosecuted. That’s not to say some people don’t do this and get away with it, but it isn’t legal, especially if you’re grabbing for things like custody that go beyond simple restitution.” Yet something in his voice suggested that he wouldn’t turn me in for doing so, either.

Erin had broken the law with impunity. But I’d never been a risk-taker or a criminal, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to let Lyle turn me into one.

“Once we involve the authorities, it could drag on for years, right? Won’t the government seize all his assets?” Then my mom might see only a fraction of her money down the road. “Custody and my house and everything else would be an open question, too.”

“Unfortunately, that’s all likely, yes.”

“In other words, we’re basically victimized twice.” A gross injustice given how faithfully I’d always followed every rule.

“Let’s focus on what we can control. With your permission as joint account holder, I’ll track recent electronic transfers and maybe tie them to these offshore entities.”

Nothing he’d said made me feel better, but that wasn’t his fault. “Okay. Thank you.”

I’d just hung up when Erin asked, “Lyle bought a boat?”

Any remnants of hope for my future dissolved in my chest, wrenching a hiccuped sob. I grabbed the now-wilting pink roses I’d kept—my last contact with Lyle—and threw them in the trash with a groan, then shuffled to my seat, robotically summarizing Stan’s update.

My mother folded and unfolded her paper napkin like an accordion, her mouth twisted in an unpleasant moue. Erin handed me some tissues.

“There’s basically no question now that Lyle’s stolen Mom’s money. Let me call Rodri.”

Being a felon’s daughter would cast a long shadow over Willa. That reality turned my stomach. “Stan said to wait. The loan document didn’t specify how Lyle had to spend the money, and he only has circumstantial evidence linking Lyle with this company and boat. Besides, Rodri is local. We need to get the feds interested if we want to arrest him in another country.”

“So you will involve the authorities once you get all the evidence?” Erin looked at Mom and me.

“The legalities might drag out for years . . . Mom might not recover much, if anything.” There had to be a solution that made her whole. I grabbed my head, needing time to think.

“I can’t believe you’d risk breaking the law.” Erin bugged her eyes.

I scowled at her hypocrisy. “You did.”

“First of all, Max’s crime was peanuts compared with Lyle’s, so the stakes were way lower. Second, I’ve got nothing to lose, Amanda. But you’re going to be a mother. You shouldn’t even consider something reckless.”