“I know what this is about,” said Christine, nodding.
She still wasn’t looking at me. The wind picked up and blew the lapels of her jacket. She hugged herself and blinked through the cold, holding her jaw tightly closed so that her teeth wouldn’t chatter. I thought she must have been so pissed off at Sinton’s PA that she’d run out of the office without even grabbing her coat. Her eyes watered, and I wondered if it was from the easterly wind blowing through the man-made canyons of Manhattan, or because of the life that we’d once had, and lost. Seeing her, smelling her, listening to her voice and knowing that right then we weren’t together—it was like grieving.
At that moment, I had a strong urge to lean on David, to save her. I resisted; it was a false hope and a foul thought. With the right moves, I could save them both.
There was no anger in her voice. She spoke softly. “It’s not like you, but deep down I think you’re jealous, Eddie. You think now that I’ve got a career, I might not want you, or maybe that I don’t need you. You don’t have to feel that way.”
“This isn’t about us. Something bad is going on in your firm. I can’t discuss it here. Do me a favor. Don’t go back to work. Get Amy and disappear for a couple of days.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is Harland and Sinton you’re talking about.”
This was the worst place to have this conversation. I didn’t know who was around, listening. I couldn’t risk telling her any more. She swung toward me, and I could see the disappointment building in her gaze. Whatever progress we’d made in the last few weeks, she thought I was throwing that away by being stupid.
“I’m asking you to trust me. I’ll explain everything tonight.”
“No, you won’t. This ends here and now. Send the client back to Gerry Sinton and then we’ll talk,” she said.
“I can’t. Trust me, this…” My voice fell away as her hand dipped into her bag and came out holding a ring. Her wedding ring. I wore mine every day. Never took it off. She’d stopped wearing her ring a long time ago.
“After you left the other night, I put this on. Just for few minutes. I wanted to know how it felt.”
I said nothing, just tried to stop myself from taking her in my arms.
“It felt good, you know? Like when we were first married. I’d stopped wearing it because it reminded me of all the bad times. Now I can put it on and think that there might be something in the future—something good, for us and Amy. I put it in my bag and I’ve been carrying it around. I don’t want to have to put it back in a drawer, Eddie. Send the client back to the firm, please. For us,” she said, pushing herself off the pillar and heading for the street.
Ignoring me as I called after her, she held out a hand to hail a cab. A taxi driver stopped and she got into the cab and left.
A digital chime sounded.
I checked my cell, but there were no messages, no texts, and no e-mails.
Scanning the crowd for faces as I moved, I turned my back to the street and carefully checked the phone I’d taken from Gill. It was a burner, Nokia, cheap, no GPS, no trace.
There was one new text message.
I clicked on OPEN MESSAGE.
We’re outside.
There was no name beside the message, just a cell number. It was, however, the second message in a text conversation. The first message had been sent three minutes ago.
A single statement in capitals. Three words that sent a ripple through my spine that lodged itself at the base of my neck like a block of ice. I gripped the phone so hard I almost cracked the screen.
KILL THE WIFE.