Wish You Were Gone(97)

“Sorry I’m late. I was with Ben and I lost track of time.”

“Not a problem,” Gray said and smiled. This was her only loose end. Lizzie and Ben Thackery. That Lizzie and Ben had struck up a relationship so soon after she’d manipulated him into switching out those security cameras was unfortunate. But if it hadn’t come up in conversations between the lovebirds yet, would it ever? Even if it did, would those two dim bulbs have the imagination to put two and two together? Gray thought not. She would never forget the night she had that epiphany to tell Ben that Alex Markakis had never brought his cameras up to code. It was true, of course, but the council had been letting it slide for two years. Getting Ben to put in the work order and have the cameras off for that weekend in September, though, was the only way she felt comfortable doing what she needed to do.

Using Emma’s spare key fob, which she’d lifted that day from the mudroom, and Emma—bless her heart—had never missed, to get into James’s car and pop the hood. Mixing the bit of brake fluid left in his tank with water. It had taken less than three minutes, but she only felt comfortable doing it knowing there would be no lasting evidence that she’d been there. If someone had walked out of the bar, she would have either hidden behind the car or ignored them—she was just a woman taking care of her own automobile. But no one had come near her, and the whole thing had taken less than five minutes.

Of course, she had hoped that his brakes would fail on the winding roads between town and the Walsh home—had never considered that he might put the car through the back of his own garage. She hated that it had happened on Emma’s property—that she and Hunter had been the ones who had to find him. She also hated that it meant she’d had so much more evidence to deal with—not just talking Emma into getting the body cremated and letting Gray take control of having the car towed, but there was the garage to deal with as well. Gray had taken forensics classes in law school. She knew what the right team of investigators could figure out based on the minutest of details. Which meant the garage had needed to go.

Which was why she owed Emma this last favor. She couldn’t sell the house without a garage, and it was Gray’s fault she had none. Ergo, Gray was ordering up a new garage.

She had murdered James Walsh. She had formulated a plan and executed the plan and saved her husband’s business, her sons’ futures, and her best friend from countless more years of misery at his hands. She knew Emma would never have left him on her own and the insanity had gone on long enough. Gray had believed that for a long time and had fantasized about getting rid of him for Emma for years. But it was his threatening her family, their livelihood, their reputation, that had tipped the scales. The day Derek had come to her and told her what Zoe had found out—what James planned to do—she knew she had only one option. And now, it was finally done.

“You’re not paying for the garage. You know that, right?” Emma said. “We have insurance, and even if we didn’t, we have plenty of money.”

“It’s all taken care of,” Gray told her as Kelsey giggled at some text on her phone. She turned on the massage feature on her chair and let the rollers knead out the knots in her back. “This is what I do.”





Acknowledgments


Thank you from the bottom of my heart to my friend Jen Calonita, without whom this book you’re holding would still be a file on my computer with no agent, no editor, and no publisher. Jen, your faith in this book and your constant cheerleading pulled me out of the gutter and this story into the light, and for that I will be eternally grateful.

I’d also like to thank my agent, Holly Root. The very fact that you “got” this book from the very beginning still makes me happy and grateful and all the things. Thanks also to Alyssa Moore and everyone at Root Literary who make being part of their family both easy and tons of fun. And to Jackie Cantor, my editor extraordinaire, who always knows the right words to say to make me stop feeling like a poseur and start feeling like an author again, thank you for seeing the worth in this story and for all your advice along the way.

To everyone at Gallery Books, including Jennifer Bergstrom, who refused to let this book have a weak title, and Molly Gregory who answers emails lightning fast, thank-you for everything. And to the rest of the Gallery team, including Jen Long, Aimee Bell, Alysha Bullock, Lisa Wolff, Caroline Pallotta, Davina Mock-Maniscalco, and Lisa Litwack, thank you so much for supporting my work and for making this book look pretty and read well.

Thank you to my early readers, Aimee Friedman, Lynn Weingarten, and Britt Rubiano, who took time out of their busy lives to read and offer notes and advice (and many exclamation points via text—you know who you are).

To everyone I’ve worked with in this nutty industry we call publishing, I couldn’t possibly list you all, but know that I’m thinking of all your smiling faces as I type this. Whether you edited me, I edited you, you agented me, you publicized or marketed my books, or you worked alongside me on editor’s row, please know that each of you has taught me something along the way and that those many somethings are what got me to where I am. And I like where I am. So, thank you.

To those die-hard fans of my early career who still connect with me on social media, you have kept me going through so, so, so, so, much. I see you and I appreciate you. Special shout-out to Dyondra, Jennah, Jacklynn, Erica, and Aislyn.