Dead to Her(73)

She lay there for a long thirty minutes and then pushed the covers away. What had he been doing all night? More late-night phone calls? Probably. He’d have his phone with him so she couldn’t check that—but what else? She crept through to his study and turned his computer on, relieved to discover the password hadn’t changed. She went to his sent emails and this time she read them all, not just looking for something that might hint at an affair.

He’d certainly been busy. A raft of messages sent to clients explaining that William was gravely ill and that given that they were a boutique firm, there might be a knock-on effect at the partnership for the next week or so and asking for client patience but he would be doing his best to make sure everything was running as smoothly as possible and to email him directly with any queries about their accounts. Next there were two to the auditors putting the audit on hold indefinitely and in no uncertain terms.

Then there was one to Emmett—sent first, at just after midnight—telling him to pick up his phone. She sat back in the leather chair and stared at it until the words blurred. Why would he want to speak to Emmett in the middle of the night? Jason and Emmett weren’t even that close. Were they? She closed down his email and stared at the home page, her mind whirring. All those late-night calls. Could they have been Emmett? But why at night? When she was asleep? Because Virginia was asleep too? What had they been discussing?

Money.

Investments.

That’s what Emmett did. Had Jason invested money with Emmett? She looked at the screen again and then she noticed. The untitled folder—the one containing the spreadsheet of numbers—had vanished. The only one on his screen to have been deleted. Jason had been tidying up.

The computers at the office all crashing.

The argument with William. What had he said? The audit starts Monday, Jason, and if this isn’t made good by then . . . How had Jason explained it? A transfer gone wrong.

She couldn’t breathe, the rush of information to her brain like pure oxygen, leaving her dizzy. That trouble with his father years ago that left his name tarnished and Jason having to claw his way back. Had Jason become like his father? Had he been embezzling from the company?

Money. Not a woman. His foul moods, the late-night calls, all down to money trouble, not a woman. Not Keisha. Not Jacquie. Not some cheap scheming waitress looking for a rich husband, but Jason covering his tracks. The fights over her expensive furniture and remodeling choices. This house. How had he paid for it? Other people’s money? And here he was judging her for her secrets, when he was on the cusp of ruining them both.

The fucking bastard.



She woke him with breakfast in bed: scrambled eggs, bacon, and home fries and a pot of fresh, strong coffee. There was even a flower in a small vase on the tray like he used to bring her when they first got together. She put the tray beside the guest-room bed, as he blinked, confused at the noise waking him.

“What are you doing, Marcie?” He glanced at the tray as if it were as dangerous to his health as William’s coconut water had been to his. “I’m not hungry.”

She pulled the drapes wide, letting bright sunlight stream in.

“Jesus . . .”

She turned to face him. “We need to talk.”

He groaned, one arm blindfolding him. “I need another hour’s sleep and then I should go see how William is doing. Show my face at the hospital.”

She poured two cups of coffee and sat on the side of the bed. Since shutting down his computer, she’d veered between laughing and crying and now she just needed to know the extent of the shit they were in. It was his turn to squirm a little.

“Don’t you worry?” she asked thoughtfully, before pausing and sipping her coffee. Their best china for a morning like this.

“Worry about what?” he snapped.

“That whoever found out about my past also knows about you.”

For the briefest second his whole body froze, and then he rubbed his face as if impatient with her. “Know what about me, Marcie? I’m too tired for this.”

“The money, Jason.” A long pause. “All the company money.”

There it was. That strange expression, as if someone she didn’t know had slipped inside Jason’s skin. “How did it start?” she continued. “The occasional borrow from a client account? Then heavier dipping and having to move funds around? Borrowing from Peter to pay Paul? Did it all get out of hand? Did you invest some client funds with Emmett, hoping to make enough to replace what you’d taken and still buy William out of the firm?” She felt sick as she voiced her suspicions. When had things gotten so bad?

“You’re crazy,” he said coldly. “You’ve been crazy for a while now.”

“Me? Really? You’ve been moody as hell for the best part of a year. And don’t tell me it’s all in my head. That bullshit won’t wash with me. Just tell me if I’m right. I need to know the truth, Jason.”

He pushed the sheets off and got out on the other side of the bed. “I need to shower. And so do you. We have to go to the hospital.”

“You’re really going to ignore me?” She found she wasn’t surprised. Handsome and charming he might be, but Jason had never been good with confrontation. He closed down. Refused to discuss. He’d done the same with Jacquie when he’d divorced her. At the time Marcie had been young and stupid and thought he was being strong, but she’d been entirely wrong. He’d simply been too weak to face the woman he was leaving.