The Wife Who Knew Too Much(34)

An hour in, Nina had downed two mojitos on top of a Xanax and needed something in her stomach to beat back the creeping wooziness. The food was set up in the ballroom. She was working her way through the crowd on a path to the raw bar when a man in front of her turned abruptly, nearly crashing into her. It was Hank. She was shocked to see him. She’d invited him only out of obligation, expecting that he’d decline. Hank had never forgiven her for marrying Connor, and nowadays, they rarely spoke unless business required it.

Nina couldn’t deal with him tonight, not after what she’d read in the report. She turned on her heel and walked out, but he followed, buzzing around her like a fly.

“Oh, that’s rich. You won’t speak to me? I’m the one with the grievance. I’ve been hearing rumors that you’re planning to move against me at the next board meeting,” he said.

“That’s a lie.”

“It sounds pretty plausible to me. You want to replace me with your power-grubbing husband.”

If she didn’t need to keep it quiet, she would’ve told Hank then and there that she was divorcing Connor. That Hank had been right all along about Connor. Of course, he knew he was right. There were things he could’ve told her, and hadn’t, that would’ve exposed this whole scam years ago.

“You mean your little protégé?” she said.

“Connor—my protégé? You know I can’t stand him.”

“Not him. I have three words for you, Hank. Protocol Shipping Solutions.”

He looked flummoxed. “What about it?”

“It’s your company, isn’t it?”

“No. It’s an old shell company of Edward’s.”

Nina frowned. Was it possible the investigator had it wrong?

“But—you’re on the board,” she said.

“I was, years ago. On the paperwork. There wasn’t a board, not in reality. The company itself barely existed as I recall. Why? What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I—I think you know,” she said, but she was no longer certain.

Hank threw up his hands. “You’re talking in riddles. Don’t change the subject. I know you’re moving against me. Lauren is close with your husband, still. He tells her things. In a moment of pique, she threw it at me that he’s taking my job. Well, I’ve got news for you. That’s not gonna happen. Watch your back, Nina. If you try anything, you’ll lose. Badly.”

Hank walked away, leaving her stunned.

Lauren was probably lying about the whole thing. But it didn’t matter. Nina and Connor would be separated by tomorrow, and Hank would know for certain that it wasn’t true. Still, Hank was angry. And Hank angry could be dangerous.



* * *



The rain stopped. The party went on. Nina mingled with her guests.

She was talking to a balding hedge-fund tycoon and his pretty young wife when she caught a glimpse of Connor across the tent. It was the first time she’d seen him all night. He stood head and shoulders above the crowd, his handsome face bathed by spotlights from the bandstand. He must’ve felt her watching, because he turned to look at her, and she felt an aching twinge of déjà vu, thinking of the night they met—at this same party, two years earlier. As he moved toward her, the crowd parted, and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Feeling dizzy, and unsafe, she looked around frantically for someone, anyone, from the security team. But in the mass of swaying bodies, there was no one to be found.

“Are you all right, Nina? You look like you saw a ghost,” Mr. Hedge Fund said, touching her arm.

When the tabloids wrote the story of this night, she wanted them to say that Nina Levitt was serene and calm before separating from her second husband. But Connor was going to make that difficult. He strode up to them and grabbed her arm, a tense expression on his face.

“Can I talk to you, please?”

“Connor,” she said, her voice shaky, “do you know my friends—?”

Crap. She couldn’t recall Mr. Hedge Fund’s name.

“Darren Walder, and my wife, Stacy. Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Connor said, in a perfunctory tone, trying to pull her away.

She resisted. She needed to keep this conversation going until a security guard turned up. Floundering for a topic, she glommed on to the first one that came to mind.

“Darren, you mentioned ghosts. Did you know Windswept used to be haunted?”

“Really?” Stacy said.

“Oh, yes. When my first husband, Edward, brought me here, Windswept was under renovation. The main parts of the house were finished, but others were closed off, full of mice and cobwebs. At night, the wind would howl, and sometimes…” She paused for dramatic effect. “Sometimes, I would hear the faint sound of a child crying in the distance, even though no child lived in the house.”

“Oh my God, you just gave me a chill,” the wife said, with a squeal.

“Honey, it’s just a story,” Mr. Hedge Fund said.

“No, this is true,” Nina said. “Years ago, I used to hear a child crying in the night. I told Edward about the sound, but he didn’t believe me. He said it was the wind, that I was imagining things. Then, one night, the cries woke me from a dead sleep. This happened the night of a big dinner party. I’d had a lot to drink, so it’s possible my ears played tricks on me. I remember, I staggered out of bed and followed the sound to the west wing, on the opposite side of the house. The electricity was out there because of the renovations, and the only light was the moon pouring through the windows. It was so eerie. I tiptoed down the hallway, and I came to the door to the attic. The cries were coming from behind it.”