The Wife Who Knew Too Much(22)

A woman in a minivan had pulled off the road behind me. I could see kids in her car. She came toward me now, waving.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Did you see that? Did you see what he did to me?”

“He ran you off the road. Do you need me call an ambulance?”

She had a phone in her hand.

“No. I’m not hurt.”

“The cops, then?”

I leaned over, hands on my thighs, trying to catch my breath, and nodded.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“It was a black SUV, right?” she asked.

“Yeah, a Suburban.”

“With New York plates?”

“New York plates? Really? I didn’t see.”

“Orange and blue. That’s New York, right?” she said.

“Yes.”

New York plates. It couldn’t be Derek, then. Deep down, I’d known that. Derek wanted me back. Not dead. Who else could it be? The obvious answer was someone who worked for Nina Levitt. Was Connor’s wife trying to kill me? I couldn’t believe that. Correction—I didn’t like believing it. I hated that I’d done something bad enough to cause another person to want to kill me. But I had. I’d slept with her husband.

The police showed up and took a report. The woman in the minivan hadn’t gotten a plate number, and the Suburban was long gone. The officer asked if I thought it had been a random act of road rage. Did anybody have a grudge against me? I almost told. I almost said, Actually, the unstable woman who is married to the father of my unborn child has the means and the motive to hire someone to kill me. It had to be her. But I didn’t say that. Even thinking it, it sounded far-fetched. Instead, I mentioned Derek’s name, while telling the officer I didn’t believe it was him, because of the New York plates.

Once I was safe at home, I tried Connor’s number. I had so much to tell him—things he needed to know. I was expecting his child. I was being followed. Someone had tried to kill me—possibly the same person who’d taken the photo of us, who, in all likelihood, worked for his wife. Yet, each time I called, the phone rang only once before rolling over to voicemail. I tried texting instead, but the texts showed as undelivered.

It was almost like he’d blocked me. But that couldn’t be true. More likely, Nina was interfering with our calls. I wouldn’t put it past her to tamper with his phone so that my number was blocked, and he didn’t even know. There was only one way to get around that.

I had to drive down to New York and speak to him in person.





12



NINA

July 4

Nina closed her diary and stared at the photo the private investigator had given her. The one of Connor with her. She ought to be hardened to it. She knew the drill. Edward always had someone on the side, and it had never made sense. Nina was beautiful, witty, cultured, on every best-dressed list. What did these women have that she didn’t? The answer was nothing, nothing at all. He just wanted something shiny and new. With Edward, she’d ignore it. Redecorate a house. Buy a painting. Pretend to be a Parisian who didn’t care about fidelity. This was different. It cut, it burned. She’d wanted this love to be real.

She was angry with herself for getting so invested. She’d been warned about Connor, specifically. And though the source was untrustworthy—Hank, who had an obvious conflict of interest—she’d taken precautions, going so far as to hire a private detective to follow up on Hank’s research. When the PI hadn’t come back with anything conclusive, she’d gone ahead and married Connor, but with fingers crossed behind her back and an airtight prenup. What good was a prenup, though? The only thing it protected was your money.

A distant rumble of thunder made her look out the window of the tower room. To the east, the horizon was dark with clouds, and Connor was heading out for a swim. She raised the binoculars that she kept on her writing desk and watched as he stripped off his shirt, tossing it onto the lounge chair that the staff had set up for him. She appreciated his body as he waded into the surf and his elegant form as he struck out into the waves. Under different circumstances, she might’ve called from the window, or sent the housekeeper down to beg him to please not swim right now, the water was too rough. But she was angry. Let him drown out there. He wouldn’t, of course. He was an accomplished swimmer. And like all narcissists, he led a charmed life. Born to be a man of leisure, a momentary bump when his family lost its money, saved by marrying into the Levitt fortune.

That was no accident. She’d been set up. The plan was a classic. Meet a rich, lonely widow. Romance her. Marry her. Then murder her and inherit her money. The only thing she didn’t understand was, what was taking so long? Why hadn’t he made his move yet? It should be easy enough. You fake a suicide, or an accident. By waiting, he’d given her time to uncover the truth. They had. She now knew everything about them—the two of them. Connor’s girlfriend wasn’t who she claimed to be. They’d known each other for years and been lovers in the past. They saw each other in secret, as recently as six weeks ago at Hank’s ski place up north.

Nina didn’t trust Hank, either. Not then, not now. She didn’t trust Hank’s ex-wife, Lauren. The fact was, if she was smart, she wouldn’t trust anybody, including people who’d worked for her for years. It was impossible to know how far this conspiracy went, or where it ended. But she knew where it started—at her July Fourth party, two years ago tonight.