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The door closed behind them with a gentle whish. Through the glass wall I watched Simon walk away down the corridor. His shoulders were hunched defensively.
“It’ll be okay, Jamie. Arnie Waugh’s the best. He comes highly recommended.”
“Good.” My voice sounded small. I cleared my throat. The door opened again, and a young man came in, took our coffee orders, and disappeared again.
“Should Simon give them his phone? It might be good to cooperate. Maybe they’ll clear him faster?”
Rory’s eyes slid away from mine. “They’re asking for a lot. His messages and phone calls. His search history, and any location data.”
“Right.” Still Rory didn’t look at me. “But he should probably give it to them, then, right? Because there’ll be nothing on the phone that can get him in trouble, because he didn’t do anything wrong. And maybe when they see that they’ll rule him out. Move on to finding out what really happened.”
“That would be great,” Rory said, heavily. “But it doesn’t always work like that. Sometimes, if a detective is convinced that they know what happened, they stop actually investigating and start looking for evidence that supports their theories. They could trawl through Simon’s phone and pull out little things that make him look like a bad guy. What if he and Nina had a disagreement over text one day, for example? Even the happiest couple argues. Arguments are a sign of a healthy relationship. But out of context it’s very easy to make things look like something they’re not.”
Rory and I never argued. Anyone looking at our phone messages would probably think we were colleagues who barely knew each other.
“Yes. But couldn’t he just give them his location data, or something? That way they’d see that he was exactly where he said he was. Wouldn’t that help?”
Rory shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that.”
I caught his gaze and held it. He was lying to me. They were both lying to me.
The door opened again, and we both jumped. Our coffees were delivered. We both managed polite, strained smiles and thank-yous, and waited in tense silence for the door to close again. Rory leaned forward in his chair.
“The problem is that if we give them only location data and hold back messages, they might use that to create a picture that Simon is hiding something. It’s all about manipulation of perception. Better to give them a wall of nothing. The less they have to work with, the better.”
“Rory, what’s really going on?”
He looked away from me. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“What does Simon think they’ll find if they get his phone?”
Rory’s eyes met mine again. I thought I saw an answer there, and my stomach turned over. We both jumped as the door whooshed open again. Another assistant, this time with a plate of petits fours. We had to wait for him to leave before we could talk again, and then Rory shut the conversation down.
“This isn’t the place to discuss it,” he said.
So I had to sit there in silence, turning things over and over in my head and waiting for Simon and Waugh to return. When they came back, Simon looked hunted and Waugh looked energized. He clapped his hand on Simon’s shoulder as they entered the room. Simon shrugged the hand off.
“Okay, well, that was a great start,” Waugh said. “Great to spend some time talking to Simon. We’ve agreed that it would be best for him to stay close to home for the next week or two. It’s a delicate time, and it’s important that all communication goes through my office. Yes?” He looked brightly from me to Rory. I mumbled my agreement, not really knowing what he meant.
“Rory, do you have a few minutes?” Waugh asked.
“Sure.”
“Excellent. If you could stay for a bit, perhaps we could iron out the rest of our arrangements. And Mrs. Jordan, you’re welcome to take Simon home.”
Just like that, he disposed of us all neatly. Rory gave me another kiss on the cheek and told me he’d see me at home. I didn’t want to leave without talking to him, but really, I didn’t have an option. Simon and I descended in a silent elevator and went back out into a day that felt cold and gray.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Jamie
I drove Simon home. I was tense and nervous, but something had changed since Simon’s private meeting with Arnie Waugh, because so was he.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
