She swallows the growing lump in her throat. “Looks like it.”
“How did he access the photos so easily?”
“My phone wasn’t locked. I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “You thought Phoebe was bad about her passwords. She and I had that in common.”
Before he can reply, the phone dings again. Nadia grabs it.
Jake: This was always about the money, okay? $1M should be enough. Just pay and these pics and your other secrets won’t become a problem.
Nadia reads the message aloud and then says to Wyatt, “The little shit is blackmailing us! He’s a lot braver on a keyboard, isn’t he?” She feels a little hypocritical given her own blackmail, but this is particularly brazen. And for him to say this was always about the money . . . does that mean he was only sleeping with Phoebe for financial gain? Nadia can’t help but be pissed on her sister’s behalf.
Wyatt rubs his face with both hands and then leans back in his chair. “Just agree to pay it. Get it over with.”
“Whoa, what?” Nadia isn’t sure, but she thinks Wyatt maybe just morphed into a complete moron.
“You said there was probably a reason they moved here—to get close to Phoebe. We know they needed money, probably after Ron botched those surgeries and lost his license in California. They were looking to relocate to Chicago and saw the whole Daniel Noble saga playing out in the news. They’re just like everyone else trying to pick at his carcass to see what coins fall out, and you know what? Let them. He spent his whole life exploiting people. It’s about time everyone else had a turn.”
She shakes her head. On one level, it does make sense, but something isn’t quite adding up. “Phoebe already tried to give them money, remember? Ron gave it back.”
“Maybe Ron isn’t in on the scheme at all. This could be some weird mother-son thing, with Jake softening Phoebe up one way while Vicki worked the best friend angle. Obviously something went wrong, or Phoebe would still be alive, but they’re hoping they can still cash in.”
Another message from Jake: An answer tonight would be nice. Let’s just make this all go away, all right? I can make things very difficult for you. Think Jesse Bachmann.
“Jesus,” Nadia says, showing Wyatt the phone screen. “This just keeps getting worse.”
“I’m telling you, just pay them the damn money. This doesn’t have to be messy. If they hadn’t gotten your phone, I’d say we still have a play, but their cards trump ours.”
She clenches her jaw and taps the reply field to ask where they want the money sent. But no matter how hard she tries, she can’t send the text. This wouldn’t be the end of it. She knows this down to her toes, and Phoebe would agree with her. Maybe the Napiers wouldn’t come calling again for a while, but this time next year or even a couple years from now, when that first million has run out, they’ll send another text. And then another. They’ll make sure she and Wyatt will never be able to rest. They’ll be prisoners.
She backspaces over what she wrote and types three simple words for a reply: Go fuck yourself. Pressing “send” this time is a piece of cake.
Wyatt sees this, and the color drains from his face. “Way to be a team player,” he says, and stalks from the room. A few seconds later, she hears ice slamming into a glass. He’s pouring himself a drink. She goes after him.
“Doing it your way wouldn’t have made me more of a team player.”
He shakes his head. “No, but you’re being reckless. Again. And now we’re both going to be fucked. My way would have at least bought us time to disappear.”
Another message: I really wish you hadn’t done that.
She doesn’t share that one with Wyatt. “Look, letting them lock us into a lifetime payment plan is not a solution.”
“And you’d rather be in jail?”
“We aren’t going to jail. I guarantee you, they’re bluffing.” She sounds more confident about that than she feels at the moment, but she isn’t about to let them slump off in defeat, either.
He knocks back his drink. “I’m not going to wait around and find out.” He walks off in the direction of his bedroom, and Nadia follows. When he tries to close the door behind him, she pushes it open. He doesn’t put up a struggle.
“What are you doing?”
He pulls a suitcase out of his closet and zips it open on the bed. “I knew I’d be packing this thing eventually.”
“So you’re just going to run away now? At the pier, you told Phoebe we’d figure out what happened.”
“I didn’t tell Phoebe. I told you. And I know enough now.” He pulls shirts out of the closet and tosses them into the open suitcase.
“You’re a goddamn coward, you know that?”
He pulls himself up to full height, opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it, and then shakes his head. “Forget it. It’s not worth it,” he mutters.
She folds her arms. “Yeah, like I said.”
A fist pounding hard on the door makes them both jump and look around. Wyatt glares at her. “Well done, Miss Go Fuck Yourself.”
“I’ll take care of it,” she says. Her voice is tough, but her guts are churning. That kind of strike on the door doesn’t come from a friendly visitor.
In the front hall, she peers through the peephole. It didn’t seem possible that they could slide even further off the rails than they already have, but now it seems they’re dangling over an abyss. The two men standing on the porch aren’t Napiers. They’re cops. One of them is a uniformed officer, the other one plainclothes, with a badge hanging from a lanyard around his neck. She wouldn’t exactly call his tactical vest, fatigues, and smoothly shaved head “plain,” though. If the idea is to blend in with people on the street so no one thinks he’s a cop, especially in Lake Forest, he’s failing miserably.
“Get ready for your close-up, Mrs. Miller,” Wyatt says from behind her.
CHAPTER 22
SHE OPENS THE door, putting on her concerned-but-friendly expression. “Hi. Is everything okay, officers?”
The plainclothes cop is frowning deeply, though maybe that’s just his default expression. It’s hard to tell with cops. “Ma’am, could you please state your name?”
“Phoebe Miller. What’s this about?”
“Who is that behind you?” asks the uniformed officer. “Sir, please step out.”
Wyatt appears beside her. So he ventured out instead of hiding in his bedroom. Maybe he isn’t a complete coward after all. “I’m Wyatt Miller, Phoebe’s husband. What can we help you with?”
“I’m Detective Bob Kelly,” says the plainclothes. “And this is Officer Dustin Watson. We’re with the Lake Forest police department. A call came through alerting us to a disturbance at your residence. Were you two having some sort of argument?”
She and Wyatt look at each other, matching their surprised expressions, and shake their heads. “Maybe the TV was too loud?” Nadia suggests.
“Everything’s fine here,” Wyatt says.
The two cops relax their postures, but only a little. Detective Kelly says, “There is another matter we’d like to discuss, if that’s okay with you. May we come inside?”
Nadia raises her eyebrows. “What sort of other matter?”
“I’m afraid it’s best discussed in private, ma’am, but if you don’t feel comfortable speaking inside your residence, you’re welcome to come down to the police station.”
Movement across the street catches her eye, and she sees Jake coming out to sit on the porch. He’s made a miraculous recovery from his dinnertime illness. Of course, he wants to watch his handiwork.
“No, you’re more than welcome to come in.” She stands aside to let them through, passing a brief glance to Wyatt, whose calm veneer is stretched so thin she can see the panic writhing underneath. If she can see it, Kelly and Watson probably do too. She leads them to the living room. “Can I get you guys
anything? We just brewed up some coffee a little while ago.”
“I’d like that, thank you,” says the detective. “With whatever dairy you have on hand.”
“Cream it is,” she says, suspecting he’s only accepting a refreshment to try to make this feel more like a civil gathering than an interrogation. “Would you like any coffee, Officer Watson?”
He shakes his head. “No thank you, ma’am.”
Nadia and Wyatt sit on the couch together, and he puts his hand on her leg, establishing that all-important sense that they’re a connected unit, when only a few minutes ago they were about to dissolve their little partnership. Kelly sits in the chair across from them and sips his coffee while Watson remains standing like a guard on watch. If his goal is to intimidate them by letting his essential “copness” permeate the space, it’s working on Wyatt especially. She can feel his heartbeat through her shoulder. Taking his hand, she gives it a brief squeeze.
Kelly looks at the ottoman. “Strange place for a knife,” he says.
Wyatt stiffens a bit. Nadia stifles a grin. This is a softball. All these questions can be softballs if she keeps her nerve. “I used it to open a package earlier. Wyatt hates it when I do that.”
“Yeah, I keep telling her thousand-dollar knives aren’t for cutting tape, but she never listens.” He laughs a little. Kelly doesn’t react one way or another.
“First, a little more about who I am. I’m actually a homicide detective. Watson here was assigned to the disturbance call, but I rode along.”
Nadia gasps. “Homicide?”
“I’ve been investigating the murder of a man named Jesse Bachmann. Are you familiar with the case, by chance?”
“The name rings a bell,” Nadia says. Wyatt murmurs agreement.
Kelly nods. “I figured it might. He was found stabbed at an Earthbound Foods recently. It’s been in the news.”
Nadia nods with recognition. “Oh jeez, yeah. I do remember hearing about that. Poor guy.”
“Truthfully, he was no angel,” Kelly says. “We even have reason to suspect he was involved in some unsolved sexual assault cases.” He leans forward. “If you ask me, I think one of his victims got the better of him.”
Nadia’s jaw drops. The shock isn’t an act this time. “Is that right?”
“Yes indeed. Unfortunately, we still have to do our jobs.”
Nadia can feel Kelly’s manipulation at work. He wants to make them feel like he’s letting them in on a little secret so they’ll be more comfortable opening up to him. It’s a good trick, effective on people who don’t know better. “But what does any of this have to do with us?” she asks. Clearly he was waiting for one of them to ask this.
Kelly sits back. “We’ve reason to suspect you might be connected with our main suspect, and possibly even harboring her.”
Reason to suspect, huh? Did he receive an anonymous tip? From a certain recently emboldened neighbor, perhaps? She does the only thing she can do in this moment of paralysis: laugh. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard. Honey, I think someone must be playing a prank on us.”
Wyatt chuckles too. It’s a little on the shrill side, but it’s natural enough for anyone to feel nervous when there are cops in their house. “Yeah, sounds like it.”
“I’m not surprised, given everything that’s been going on lately.”
Kelly raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe you were familiar with my late father—Daniel Noble?” She’s not sure how well it will work, but hopefully evoking the Noble name will inspire at least a little deference from these guys. And maybe a little sympathy too. “He’s been in the news recently. Unfortunately, he seemed to share some character traits with this Jesse Bachmann. And, well, all the media coverage of his misdeeds has made my life a little eventful, as you can imagine.”
Understanding fills Kelly’s face. “Ah yes, that. Well, I’m sorry for your loss at any rate, ma’am.”
“I’m only sorry that it’s created situations like this. My father was a, well, difficult person and we were never very close, but a few people around here must still want a scapegoat.”
“I understand, ma’am. Nevertheless, I must at least ask what you know about a woman named Nadia Pavlica.”
Wyatt stiffens, but all the attention is on her. Kelly has been speaking only to her since he got here. And the reason feels obvious. The woman he’s speaking to now and the woman he’s looking for have very similar faces, and Kelly’s eyes are crawling all over her features.
“I can’t tell you anything, because I’ve never met her.” The lie glides out so easily it shocks even her.
Kelly’s expression doesn’t change. “Are you sure? Any chance of a long-lost relation of some sort?”
She shakes her head. “Sorry, no. I can’t say I’m close to my extended family, but I certainly know every member.”
“I think you’ll understand my insistence when you see what Miss Pavlica looks like.” He holds up his phone to show them a picture. Nadia knows this picture well, because it graces her most recent driver’s license. Pale skin, dark hair, gaunt like she’s just on this side of malnourished, smudged eyeliner. It looks more like a mug shot of a drunk hooker.
“See a resemblance to someone you know?” Kelly asks.
Nadia peers a bit closer and then acts like she finally gets it. “Oh, I see. Well that’s a little unsettling, isn’t it, babe? Look at her.”
Wyatt examines the picture with a pursed mouth and then grunts. “Yeah, I guess she does look a little like you, if you were younger and going through a Goth phase.”
“She was last known to have blond hair. Would that change anything about your recollection?”
“I’m afraid not,” she says.
“And you’re sure you don’t have a sister?” he asks her.
She laughs. “I’m sure if I did, I’d know it. Everyone hated Daniel, but they all want a piece of the Noble estate.”
Kelly sighs and puts his phone away. “I study faces a lot in this job. I see some dead ringers now and then, but it’s just uncanny, the resemblance between you two. The only thing different is the hair.”
A frightening thought occurs to her. Can he ask for DNA or prints based on a hunch or a phoned-in tip? She doesn’t think he can, but if he does, she knows the game will really be over. “It’s pretty incredible,” she agrees. “But it’s also creepy. I don’t like the idea of having a doppelgänger who runs around town stabbing people.”
“Well, we don’t know for sure if she’s done that. We’d just like to talk to her.” He pulls a card from one of his vest pockets and hands it to her. “If you do see her or think of anything else that would help us out, would you call that number? It goes right to my cell.”
She takes the card with numb fingers. “Of course.”
As she leads the men to the door, Kelly says, “You know, we’ve actually met before, but I doubt you remember.”
“Oh really?” she asks, dreading the prolonging of this engagement.
“Your dad used to hold fund-raising events for the police department way back in my rookie days. He always brought this pretty blonde with him that I assumed was some young girlfriend or hired eye candy. But that was you, wasn’t it?”
Her grin feels frozen in place. “It might have been.”
He nods. “Yeah, it definitely was. I remember now. All the single guys were determined to get a dance with you. You even danced with me once, though I think I stepped on your toes a few times.”
She has no idea if any of this is true, but she suspects Kelly isn’t one to give up until he uses every tool in his kit, including making up an anecdote to trap her in a lie. “My dad dragged me out to a lot of events back then. They all kind of blur together in my memory. I think it’s when I developed my hatred for dresses and high heels. But I’m sure dancing with
you was the highlight of the evening for a young woman who probably secretly wanted to be anywhere else.” She opens the door to let them out. Jake is still sitting on his porch, though Vicki has since joined him, because of course she has.
Once he’s outside, Kelly turns around. “Like I said, ma’am, if you can think of anything at all, I’d appreciate a call.”
“Okay. Be safe out there.” She watches them walk back toward their cruiser and then waves at Jake and Vicki before closing the door and locking it behind her. “That was fun.”
Wyatt looks at her like a stern, merciless general who’s surveyed the battlefield and knows he’s lost. “Go pack your bags. This is over.”
“We aren’t going anywhere.”
“That cop saw right through you. He’ll probably be back with a warrant for your DNA and to search this place in the morning, if not sooner.”
“Oh come on. He has no evidence for a warrant! What, that I look kind of like the girl he’s looking for? A judge will laugh him out of the building.”
He rolls his eyes. “Your capacity for wishful thinking is astounding.”
“Listen, the improbability of this whole situation is what’s keeping us safe right now. No one would believe it if you told them.”
“Are you paying attention? We’re not safe at all! Those people across the street killed Phoebe. They have pictures of us with her body. They know who you are, and now they’re looking to get paid. The building is on fire and the whole thing is about to come down on our heads. We were stupid to stick around this long.”
Phoebe’s phone rings. Nadia doesn’t so much as twitch. She’s been waiting for a call ever since she closed the door behind Detective Kelly and his trusty mule. “Hold that thought,” she tells Wyatt, and then answers, putting the call on speaker. “Well hi, Vicki.” She lays on the saccharine extra thick.
“Hey, is everything okay over there?”
She rolls her eyes. After all this, the woman still wants to put on an act? “No one’s been arrested or shot if that’s what you were hoping for.”
The Other Mrs. Miller Page 24