If You Must Know (Potomac Point #1)(72)

“Sure.” She smiled and handed me a business card. “It’s been nice talking to you. I’m sure we can find you the right place to start over.”

I stood and shook her hand again. “Jane, you have no idea how grateful I am for all your help today.”

On that note, I turned and darted out the door, eager to share what I’d learned so the cops would have what they needed to trap Lyle. The drive across town seemed to take forever, but I smiled when I saw Amanda’s car parked in front of the house. I whipped into the garage and practically jumped out of the front seat.

“Hey!” I yelped after dashing into the kitchen. Not only weren’t Mom and Amanda baking, but I didn’t detect a whiff of sugar or browned butter. Mo hadn’t come running at me, either. My heart sped up, wondering if something else went wrong while I’d been gone. I cupped my hands to my mouth and yelled, “Mom?”

“Back here,” came a voice muffled by the closed kitchen window.

Was she hurt? I raced to the deck, where I nearly crashed into Amanda and Mom enjoying a cup of coffee. Mo’s tail wagged as he trotted over to greet me, but I was too shaky to pick him up.

Mom frowned at me, setting down her cup. “What’s wrong? You look wild.”

“I know where Lyle’s going!” The chair I’d yanked scraped against the deck before my butt hit its seat. Mo jumped on my shins, so I lifted him onto my lap.

“How?” Amanda’s face paled.

When you live in a town of eighteen thousand people, it’s big enough that you don’t know everyone, and today that had worked in our favor. “I went to Lyle’s old office and pretended to be looking for a new house. While getting to know another broker, I got some deets about Ebba, and one thing led to another.”

“What broker? What ‘deets’?” Instead of jumping for joy, my sister trembled. In fact, she might’ve stopped breathing, too.

“Jane Bauer.”

Amanda slapped her head. “Jane’s a huge gossip. Oh God, did she know about Lyle?”

“No. Relax. I went in as if someone had recommended Ebba, so Jane said she’d quit.” As I recited the conversation back practically word for word, I’d hoped my sister would calm down, but instead she turned green. “Amanda, this is good news. Let’s call Stan and Kevin.”

I thrust a phone at her, but she didn’t take it.

“What’s wrong?” I shot my mom a quizzical look. In return, she offered up that pinched expression that informed me I’d done something she didn’t like.

Amanda squeezed her eyes shut, nodding. “I’ll call him.”

She hoisted herself out of the chair, which wasn’t easy with that round belly, then disappeared inside.

When I went to follow her, my mom called, “Stop!”

My hands shot out from my sides. “Why aren’t you excited, or at least relieved?”

She pitched her face upward as if begging my dad for some wisdom about how to deal with me. “I realize you’re trying to help, but did you stop for one minute to think about how hard it is for your sister to hear about Lyle’s grand cruise with his mistress?” She shook her head, letting the rustle of the sycamore leaves fill the temporary silence. “You expect her to move on without paying any respect to what she’s losing. Yes, you were right about Lyle all along, but your sister loved him, Erin. He was her husband, not some high school boyfriend. Life as she knew it is over. That’s hard for most people, but especially for someone like her, who works so hard to keep things together. You could try being more sensitive.”

I scratched behind my ear, having no ready comeback, mostly because there wasn’t one. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me.”

I peered through the window but didn’t see my sister in the kitchen. “Okay. I’ll try harder, but, my gosh, can’t we celebrate the fact that this nightmare might be over soon? We should book tickets to Turks and Caicos or something today, ’cause I want a front row seat to his arrest.”

“Arrest?” Her demeanor shifted from concern to self-preservation in a blink. “Lyle hasn’t missed his interest payment yet. Until he does, that’s premature.” Mom purposefully tapped her fingernail against the arm of the deck chair four times.

Things never went anywhere when Mom’s fingernails got involved. My skin prickled and tightened from frustration.

“Lyle wouldn’t be sailing off to South America if he planned to make those payments. When’s it due?” I asked.

“Monday.”

In two days. I guessed we’d argue about the cops on Tuesday, then.

Amanda returned, still clutching her phone. “Well, that yacht Stan’s been tracking is in Turks, so it’s more evidence that The Office—that’s the boat’s name—is in fact Lyle’s and making its way south. He’s still working on linking all the wire transfers from our bank to Lyle and the company and the boat. Until that’s tied up, Lyle could claim to be borrowing or leasing the boat from a friend or something, or using Mom’s money for something else. Who knows? He’s obviously the best liar.”

“So we wait?” Mom asked, looking almost relieved that she had a reprieve from notifying the authorities.

Amanda shrugged. “Stan suspects Lyle plans to hang out around Venezuela because, while technically there’s an extradition treaty between it and the US, it’s considered a fugitive-friendly nation, especially with all the current political upheaval. Lyle could live there a long time without having to worry about being extradited.”