The Last Thing She Ever Did(48)

The detective handed the Ohio man her card.

“Let me know if you are going to leave,” she said. “I might have a few more questions.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

MISSING: FIVE DAYS

Damon West poked his head into Owen’s office at Lumatyx. It was after ten in the morning—early for Damon, who favored a workday that lasted until after midnight. A row of red Japanese toy robots on a stainless steel credenza behind Owen bobbled as the air moved. The toys were an affirmation of the geekdom that surrounded Owen. He’d ordered the lot of them from eBay but pretended they’d been collected one at a time. In his heart, Owen Jarrett was not a techie. He could, however, play the part.

“You look like shit,” Damon said.

Owen knew that his business partner’s assessment was probably on the generous side. He’d had less than three hours of sleep. Before getting dressed, he stood in the shower for a full twenty minutes, letting the hot water cascade over him to peel away the sleep and the stream of consciousness that he had been unable to escape.

Liz. Charlie. Liz. Charlie. Murder. Liz.

“Thanks,” he said. “I feel like shit. Twenty-four-hour bug, I think.”

Damon took a seat in the Herman Miller Eames chair that was Owen’s first splurge in anticipation of the windfall he was about to collect on.

“You’ve been preoccupied,” Damon said, adjusting his new frames.

Owen blinked his bloodshot eyes. “Have I?”

“Everything all right? With you?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Liz?” Damon asked.

Owen glanced down at the face of his phone. A stream of texts from his wife filled its cracked surface.

“You’ll find out soon enough. She didn’t finish her bar exam. Got sick.”

“Shit,” Damon said. “She’s been studying her ass off.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. She’s at home now trying to figure out her next move. We both are.”

“I’m really sorry that happened,” Damon said. “It’s just a stumble. We’ve had them, and now look at us.”

“Yeah, the money.”

“Rolling in, baby. We’re set for life.”

“Money’s good,” Owen said.

“What’s the first thing you’re going to buy?” Damon asked. “After the car, of course.”

“I think I’ve spent every penny in my head a thousand times over. No idea what I’ll really do. After the car, that is. You?”

“I’m going to buy my mom a condo in Sunriver,” Damon said with a wry smile. “Close to me, but not too close.”

Sweat dripped from Owen’s armpits and his head throbbed. Even so, he managed a grin. “I figured you’d do something like that, Damon. The only thing we have in common is code.”

Damon laughed as he got up to leave. “Yeah. We’re about to have big, fat bank accounts too.” He looked closer at his business partner and friend. “Drink some water, Owen. You’ll feel better.”

Owen doubted that.

“Right,” he said.

Owen returned his gaze to his phone and started to scroll through Liz’s messages.

She had sent the first one only minutes after he left home for the office.

Liz: What have I done?

The next text came through ten minutes later.

Liz: I don’t know how to face Carole. I don’t know what I’ll say. I’ll tell her. I think I’ll tell her. Owen, I need you. I need your help right now.

Five minutes passed, then another was dispatched.

Liz: We’ve made this worse. We’re really screwed up here. I’ve thought about it. I should tell someone. But I won’t. I promised you.

Owen pressed his hand against his clammy and pounding forehead. His wife was unraveling when she needed to find a way to deal with the situation. Texting unremittingly was not the answer. In fact, it could make things far worse.

Someone could read them.

Liz: I’m going to take a valium and go over there. I’m going to hold it together. I am. Please don’t worry.

Valium was a good idea, but worry was all Owen could do. He picked up the office landline and dialed Liz’s cell. She picked up on the first ring.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice calm and controlled when inside he wanted to drive home and shake Liz hard and get her to snap out of what she was doing. “You need to get rid of your phone and go to the AT&T store and buy us each new phones. You need to do that before you do anything. Okay?”

Liz stayed quiet. “I don’t understand, Owen.”

Owen kept his cool. He had no choice. His irritation showed on his face but not in his voice. He didn’t need any pushback from Liz.

“Smash your phone with a hammer right after this call,” he told her. “Obliterate it. I’ll get rid of mine too. And, Liz, never text me anything about what happened. Do you understand? I said we couldn’t talk about it. That means texting. Especially texting.”

Silence filled the receiver.

“Did you hear me?” Owen asked.

Finally a response: “Yeah, I did. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that. I just needed to talk to you and I knew I couldn’t call you.”