The Last Thing She Ever Did(60)

“He can’t be disturbed, Liz.”

Liz balled her fists and pounded the surface of the receptionist’s desk, as if she needed to make some kind of gesture to show how urgent the situation had become. Words couldn’t be used because every sentence that carried the truth was an indictment.

“Look, I need him,” Liz said. “It’s important.”

“Sorry,” the young woman said.

“Everyone is sorry,” she said, raising her voice. “We’re all so goddamn sorry!”

The receptionist blinked. Owen’s wife was scaring her.

“You need to see someone,” she called after Liz as she hurried away. “You’re coming unhinged.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

MISSING: EIGHT DAYS

The Liz drama lingered. Everyone at Lumatyx talked about it. After the off-site, the two partners returned to the conference room. It was after 8:00 p.m. Damon West shut the big glass door and turned around to face Owen, who sat at the end of the massive live-edge Douglas fir conference table.

“Thanks for sticking around,” he said.

“Fine. Seems serious. What’s up?”

“It is serious, Owen. Ordinarily it would be none of my business. I’ve got plenty on my plate right now. Now this . . . this needs addressing right now.”

Owen knew Damon enjoyed poking his nose in everyone’s business. He dug in deep like a tick. Always acting concerned. Soulful, caring eyes. In reality, Damon was no different from Owen. To be fair, he might have been at one time. But not now. Not when dollar signs replaced the work behind their ambitions. Owen studied everyone’s weaknesses. His arm around an employee’s shoulder was often a choke hold.

They didn’t know it, of course.

“What does?” Owen asked.

“This is hard for me,” Damon said.

You love this and you know it.

“What is it, man?”

“Just a reminder,” Damon said, looking serious and very concerned. “We have a lot at stake here. The VCs can get very touchy. They don’t want any trouble.”

“Trouble?” Owen leaned forward. He was not about to be pushed around by his backstabbing partner. “Why are you saying this to me? I get that. I know it as well as you do.”

“Do you, Owen?”

“Get to the point, Damon.”

“Your wife,” he said. “She’s becoming a problem. I know she’s wrapped up in the missing neighbor kid’s case. I’m sorry about that. Really I am. She scared Paula. She’s losing it, big-time, and people are starting to talk.”

“Talk about what? What do you mean? Get to the point already!”

“When she can’t get you on your phone, she calls the front desk. She’s always frantically trying to reach you. I don’t know what is going on with her, but it’s hit the office gossip circuit.”

Which you run like a side business.

“She’s devastated.”

“She seems to be unstable.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Owen said. Although you’re right, he thought.

“This wasn’t easy for me. We’re on the cusp of something big and I don’t have to remind you that if either of us makes a mistake that causes the money guys to have the slightest concern, we’re dead.”

“Not both of us, Damon. The one who causes the problem.”

“Morality clauses are vague. But yes. The one who gets in the way of everything we’ve fought for is out. Left with nothing.”

Owen quietly seethed.

“Just get her to pull herself together,” Damon said. “All right?”





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

MISSING: EIGHT DAYS

That night, Liz and Owen barely spoke. They sat in the living room for a long time. The sound of some last-of-the-season vacation renters roasting marshmallows a few doors down from the Millers’ leaked through an open window facing the river. Not a single word was uttered about what had happened at the office. Or what Owen had been doing when he was at his off-site meeting. It was hard to trust him when every time he spoke it was a suggestion on how to lie.

Despite his lies, Liz counted on Owen. She hoped against hope that everything would be all right—as he’d promised.

That night when they went to bed, Owen moved close to her as she lay on her side, facing the wall. He pushed his pelvis against her, a signal that usually indicated that he wanted sex. She wondered how he could even contemplate such a thing at a time like that. She could think of nothing but the couple next door and the little boy she’d accidentally killed.

Owen had told her that everything needed to be normal. Yet there was no normal anymore. She didn’t feel like making love to him. She wondered why he’d even want to touch her. She was poison.

Instead of tugging on her shoulder to roll her over, Owen leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“You need to toughen up,” he said. “If you crumble on me, I’ll kill you.”

Liz didn’t say a word. Didn’t breathe.

“I swear that I will, Liz,” he went on. “I’ll make sure your name is dragged through the mud before I do it, too. Your mistake is not going to cost me.”

He stayed close for a moment, feeling her body shiver under the sheets.