No One Knows

by J. T. Ellison

  Aubrey pulled in a breath. She couldn’t believe the words she’d just heard. Had he just admitted . . .

  “All those times I thought I saw you—”

  “You did. That was me.”

  “Cruel,” she whispered. Something inside her started to break, an unbearable rift forming. “How could you be so cruel?”

  “I thought you’d understand. I thought you loved me.”

  “You used to be an honorable man, Josh. One who wanted to help people. One who wasn’t seduced by the trappings of wealth and privilege. That’s the man I loved. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

  Loved. She heard the past tense and realized it was true.

  “I can’t pretend this is all okay. You’ve been gone so long. I don’t want to live a life on the run. I want to settle down. To have a family. Remember all the things we used to want? The dreams we had together?”

  He was begging, pleading. “We’ll have them now, Aubrey. It’s over. I can finally give you the world.”

  “I don’t want the world. I want to know that I can trust you. And I can’t.”

  He set his glass on the table. “Of course you can. I’m the only one you really can trust.”

  She shook her head. “You always said that. I don’t think it’s true.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She looked at him, let all the walls down, let all the hurt and anger and fury and loss crowd into her eyes.

  “You do understand.”

  “It’s Chase. You want to be with him instead of me.” His voice was tinged with frost.

  She started to laugh. She didn’t find his statement humorous, far from it.

  “You have it all wrong, Josh. Yes, I have feelings for Chase, but that’s not what this is about. You’ve betrayed me, in the worst possible way.”

  Pain in his eyes, sharp and intense. “Don’t do this,” Josh pleaded. “Don’t do this to us. Not now. Not when I’ve made it all work.”

  She saw Arlo enter the room, with several plainclothes cops.

  She stood. “Josh, you did this to us. Not me. I was just along for the ride.”

  He looked up at her. He had aged so much since he left. There was gray at his temples, lines on his face. Lines and gray they should have earned together, not apart.

  “Aubrey, I still love you. Only you. You’ve been the love of my life since I was a boy. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

  Without her. He’d done everything without her. Made life-altering decisions, turned into a criminal, disappeared.

  “You managed for the last five years. Six, really, if you count all the lies you spun before you died.”

  He was starting to panic. Gone was the smooth man, replaced by the little boy she’d grown to love, the one who’d fallen prey to his fears.

  “Aubrey, we’re bound together. We always have been. We’re meant to be together. You waited for me, for Christ’s sake. How can you do this?”

  “How can I do this?”

  He was crying now. She couldn’t handle that. It thrust forth the memory of the day he found out his father wasn’t dead after all, but alive and well and fresh out of jail, and he’d just collapsed to the ground in the park, empty and broken, and cried. She couldn’t do this. She just couldn’t. The pressure was building, the words forming in her throat.

  Don’t. Don’t. Don’t say it.

  People were starting to watch them now, forks poised above plates, glasses held in midair. She saw Arlo and his men out of the corner of her eye, waiting. This was how it had to be. Josh had to pay for his crimes. That was the right thing. And she had to pay for hers.

  She nodded at Arlo, and he approached the table.

  When Josh saw his best friend, he froze in place. His face turned white, his eyes wild.

  “Oh, Aubrey,” Josh whispered. “What have you done?”

  What have I done? What have I done? He’s right. I did this. It was all my fault.

  Arlo stepped closer to the table. “Don’t fight me, Josh. We’ll get this worked out. But you’re going to have to surrender yourself to Metro. It’s time for you to come with me.”

  Josh looked frantically from Aubrey to Arlo. “This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. You turned me in? Oh, my God, Aubrey. How could you?”

  How could you, how could you, how could you?

  She felt the tearing of her soul, the rage spilling into her bloodstream.

  “How could I? You son of a bitch! You left me here all alone. You lied to me. You promised!”

  The dam broke, and she launched at him, fists meeting his face, the fury of the past five years unleashing at last. Her voice was a wail, and her emotions, unchecked at last, allowed the words to come out. She couldn’t stop them, couldn’t stop herself; she was screaming them, over and over and over, sobs wrenching from her as she pounded her clenched hands against his chest.

  She screamed until Arlo wrapped his arms around her and dragged her forcibly from the restaurant. Screamed until the men came to take her away, and shoved the needle into her arm with the sedative, and even then, as she faded into the darkness, she couldn’t stop.

  “We had a deal, Josh. We had a deal. We had a deal. We had a deal.”

  CHAPTER 70

  Josh and Aubrey

  Five Years Ago

  Josh paced the living room. He had no choice; he couldn’t do this himself. It would take time, and coordination, and he’d looked at every angle, every option, and there was nothing to be done for it. Aubrey would need to be involved.

  Would she go for it? Or would she take a knife to his balls in the middle of the night? He really didn’t know for sure.

  He straightened at the sound of the garage door, the gorgeous specialty doors that looked like the front of a barn, stained a dark brown to match the front door and the stone face of the house. She’d taken the Audi to Whole Foods, would be laden down with bags of healthy food.

  He needed a drink.

  He went to the wet bar in the corner, poured a Scotch, drank it down. Liquid courage.

  His wife’s voice, sugar and light. “Hon, are you here?”

  “In the living room,” he called.

  She came in with a smile on her face, holding a sheaf of paper. “Did you see this? Can you believe it? They screwed up the insurance, your mom’s name isn’t on it. They put me down as beneficiary. Daisy is going to shit herself when she realizes.”

  “Aubrey, honey. Come here. Sit down. We need to talk.”

  The smile fled. The gravity of his tone was no comfort; he couldn’t help it. There was simply no good way to broach the subject, so he rushed in. He reached for her hand, caught it.

  “The bank didn’t make a mistake. I made you the beneficiary.”

  “What? Why?”

  He took a deep, steadying breath. “You’re going to be furious with me, but I need your help. I’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake.”

  He felt rather than saw her withdraw, her whole psyche pulling away from him. Then she carefully extricated her hand from his and drew her arms across her chest, to protect herself, to shield herself from him. The motion made him sick to his stomach. Her hair was wildly curly today—rain must be coming.

  He choked back a sob. How was he going to do this? How was he going to forfeit the woman he loved, the life he’d fought for? Even something as simple as knowing the weather by the state of his wife’s hair . . . He bit his lip, hard, pushing back his emotions. There was no other way.

  He gestured toward the sofa, and after a moment’s pause, Aubrey sat, curling her feet under her.

  He sat on the opposite end. “I need your help.”

  “What is this about, Josh? Are we in trouble?”

  We. Thank God in heaven, she said we.

  The story came out, from the
start, each word bitter, each moment agony. She listened, pale, a hand to her throat. Toward the end, she’d compulsively scratched at her neck, and there were streaks of red lighting up the tender skin.

  When he finished, he felt light, giddy. She hadn’t slapped him or walked out, not even when he told her about the photos, about how he’d cheated on her.

  She sat, still as stone, processing. He didn’t push; he knew her well enough to know she needed time to adjust to her new reality.

  That her husband was a criminal, a cheat, and a liar who needed her to help him disappear.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Aubrey. I know how badly I’ve fucked up.”

  “You could kill yourself. Save us a lot of trouble.” Her voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear her.

  “I’ve thought about it.”

  She looked up, eyes on fire. “Don’t you dare. That’s the coward’s way out. We’ll . . . We’ll figure something out. Right now, I need you to leave. I need some space.”

  He didn’t argue, didn’t try to kiss her. He grabbed Winston’s lead, snapped it on the dog, and took a walk.

  • • •

  Aubrey wanted to kill him on the spot. That’s why she’d asked him to leave, so she wouldn’t accidentally take a knife to his throat. Of all the stupid, idiotic things. Josh in a criminal enterprise was an absolute joke. Figured he’d managed to blow it.

  She needed Tyler. Needed his brain. He’d know how to pull this off. But he was in jail, again. She’d have to figure this one out herself.

  She had an idea. But she couldn’t do any online research—that was too easy to trace. And she couldn’t do a thing out of character. From this moment forward, she was on stage, and she had to give the best performance of her life, or they’d both go down in flames.

  He’d asked for her help. She looked around their grandly appointed living room, still devoid of much furniture. After all he’d done for her, now he needed her help.

  The tiniest bit of pride swelled in her chest. They could do this. They could find a way.

  And to start with, no one would question her going to the library.

  She wrote Josh a note and took the car. She was a regular fixture at the Vanderbilt library—she even had a book in the backseat that was due. Perfect.

  She had an idea of where to look. She remembered one of her friends in the group home, if you could call her that, bragging about a book she’d read that would help someone disappear without a trace. Where would it be, what section? She couldn’t do a search; she’d have to rely on her memory of the library’s stacks and deduce where it could be under the guise of browsing.

  She parked her car, walked in, swiped her card. She returned the book, smiled at the librarian behind the desk, casually pulling out a notebook and heading toward the children’s section. They were used to her finding material for her kids. No one would bat an eye.

  Walked down the aisle and made a right turn, back to the adult world.

  She thought her best chances were in two areas in the library: travel and psychology. Travel didn’t give her what she was looking for, other than a nice guide to various Caribbean islands, which she was tempted to check out just for fun, but she hit pay dirt in psychology. There were three slim volumes by different authors about personal security, and one specifically about how to disappear. Bingo.

  She pulled it from the shelf and held it against her chest so no one could see it. She found an unlocked carrel, entered, closed the door behind her, took a deep breath, and started to read.

  • • •

  It was dark when Josh heard the garage door open again. He’d fed and groomed the dog, put away the groceries, cleaned the kitchen, and made tacos, just to kill the time. He’d been so relieved by her controlled reaction, but as the minutes ticked away, he started to wonder if Aubrey was even going to come back, or if she’d bring home the cops and just have him arrested and call it over.

  She came in with a yellow notepad clutched to her chest, curly hair sticking out in all directions, face carefully blank. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her look more beautiful.

  “Light a fire. Read all of this. Then burn it. I’m going to take a shower, and then we’ll talk.”

  • • •

  He read the pages. Each sentence made him more afraid. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t pull it off. It was too easy to trip up, to make a simple mistake that would cost them everything. Don’t Google yourself, don’t Google the case, create disinformation—every step would take years to plan out. Panic started to build in his chest. He had to turn himself in. That was the only choice.

  Aubrey came down the stairs as he was feeding the pages into the fire. He turned, saw her floating his way, as ethereal and mysterious as the day he first saw her. He’d failed her. He’d failed himself.

  He shoved the remaining pages haphazardly into the flames. “I can’t do it.”

  “You can. And you will. Because I’m not ready to give up on you. I’ve forgiven your transgressions, Joshua Hamilton. Now you’re going to pay me back.”

  • • •

  It took them a week to make all the plans. In truth, it was simple, and elegant. He watched Aubrey lay out precise lines, marveling at her ability to separate what he’d done from who he was, who he wanted to be for her.

  He needed money, which meant he had to double-cross Allen, but that wasn’t a problem. He hated the man for getting him into this mess; he was happy to fuck him over.

  Finally, they had it all nailed down. He’d already taken out the insurance policy. Everything was signed, sealed, and delivered. All they had to do was get the date of the meeting, and he’d pull off the heist and be gone. Tennessee would declare him dead after a few years, earlier if his mother fought hard enough, which he figured she would, and then Aubrey would join him, and they could start life over again.

  He didn’t know how he was going to live without her that long.

  • • •

  Late one night soon after, lying in bed together, sated and warm, her leg thrown casually over his, the soft sheets kicked to the bottom of the bed, he started to worry again.

  “They’re going to think you did it.”

  Aubrey gave him a drowsy “Hmm?”

  Josh sat up. “Wake up. We need to talk.”

  Aubrey dragged herself to an elbow, saw his face, and sat up the rest of the way. “What’s wrong?”

  “The police. When they investigate. They’re going to think you were in on it.”

  She smiled languidly, dragged her hand up his thigh. “I am in on it.”

  “I’m serious. I won’t do this if there’s any chance you can be caught up in it. You have to swear to me you can make this work, and not get drowned in the process.”

  She grew serious. “All right. Worst-case scenario. They might think I was involved. They always look at the spouse first. I’m going to have to play this perfectly. That’s my responsibility. You just have to stay alive and get out of town.”

  “No.” He shook his head and got out of the bed, went to the window. Stared out at the moonlit night. “No, I can’t let it happen.” He rushed back to the bed, dropped to his knees. Took her hands in his.

  “Aubrey, I swear, if you’re arrested, if it goes so far as a trial, I will come back and turn myself in. I swear it. And if I don’t come back, you’ll know I’m dead. Because that’s the only thing that could keep me away from you. Only death can keep us apart.”

  “Josh—”

  He kissed her, hard. “This is a deal breaker, Aubs. I’m willing to try this, running away, faking my death, the whole thing, but I won’t let you go down for me. I swear it.”

  “You’re not kidding, are you?”

  He wrapped his arms around her, put his head on her chest, felt the strangeness of her body, sinewy and soft and his, her heart beating softly un
der his ear. He felt like he could hold her there forever, safe.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, Aubrey. Ever. Deal?”

  She kissed his forehead gently. “Deal. Now come back to bed. I’m cold.”

  EPILOGUE

  Nashville

  Three Months Later

  They were on the patio, in the slope-backed chairs with extra cushions, the way she liked it now. The summer was intensely green, overwhelmed by the water. It had been a summer of rains and tornado warnings, of pain and withdrawal, of finding themselves. Establishing their relationship, one nonstop flight at a time.

  Chase had brought the first printing of his article. It would run in the Sunday Tribune, a special report. It was good, solid investigative work—his editor was going to submit it to the Pulitzer committee. He couldn’t think about that now. All he wanted was to let the joys and horrors of the past few months fade away.

  He held the newspaper in his hands like it was a precious biblical tablet, cleared his throat, preparing to read the story out loud. She gave him a proud smile and nodded.

  “It’s called ‘Love, Drugs, and Insanity: The story of a Nashville couple who deceived their whole world, and nearly got away with it.’ A Tribune Special Report in Three Parts, by Chase Boden, with Shane Gert and Monica Page, Tribune Investigative Staff Reporters.”

  “I’m glad you got top billing.”

  He smiled. “Me, too. Okay, here goes . . .”

  Nashville, TN: She seemed incapable of deceit. Innocent, damaged, dragged through life by her heels, Aubrey Marie Hamilton, a curly-headed twenty-nine-year-old Montessori teacher, was anything but what she looked like. She deceived everyone, including this reporter, over a five-year period after her husband, Joshua Hamilton, went missing. Acquitted of his murder, she’d resumed her life, waiting for the moment her husband was officially declared dead to capitalize on a $5 million life insurance policy and the money he stole from his partners in a pill-mill operation out of Vanderbilt University Medical Center. The story that ensued would make an excellent novel, but I’ve reported faithfully everything I’ve learned on this case.