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“That’s horrible. How has she been pulling this off?”
“Oh, she’s had a whole smorgasbord of tricks, but mostly it involved the events she organized, which is clearly why she wanted to hang on to that responsibility. She’s apparently been in cahoots with the event planner she was using, and they’d been getting kickbacks from some of the vendors. She also regularly padded the charges that were submitted.”
Emma presses her lips together, thinking. This explains why Justine was distracted at work and probing so much lately about Tom, eager to know where he was and with whom. She must have surmised that the jig might be up.
“Wait,” Emma says, as a thought practically explodes in her head. “Do you think there’s any way Taylor’s death could be connected to the embezzlement?”
Tom blows out a gust of air and leans back wearily on the banquette, his head resting in his hands.
“Based on what we’ve determined, it doesn’t appear anyone but Justine and the event planner were involved—and since Taylor didn’t have anything to do with company finances, it would have been nearly impossible for her to help Justine funnel off money or play some kind of role. Regardless, I need to fill in the police.”
“You must feel really overwhelmed right now.”
“Yes, especially by my own failure to spot it earlier—and because I know it’s affected things between us. Please know how sorry I am, Em.”
“I appreciate you telling me.” Because what else does she say? She has no reason to doubt this information about Justine, but it doesn’t alter the bigger picture or do anything to quiet her fears.
“There’s something else,” Tom says, sweeping a hand through his hair. “Over the last few days, I’ve realized what a mistake it was to have Brittany stay here during the first summer in our new home. I should have offered to get her an apartment in town or simply told her the timing wasn’t right.”
At the moment, Brittany is the least of their problems, Emma thinks and manages a small smile. “Tom, you did the right thing, and I don’t fault you for it.”
He picks up the empty Diet Coke can and traces a coupleof circles on the table with it. “But in some way, it’s shoved Diana in your face, and I know that troubled you.”
“What?” Emma shakes her head. “No, Diana’s not an issue for me. She never has been.”
“Really?” he says, looking dubious.
“I swear. I’ve never minded—”
“I know you were in my office the other night.”
Emma flinches. So he had heard her in there, pulling drawers open to see what evidence she might find.
“Tom...”
“You don’t have to say anything, Emma. I assume you came across a few of the things that I’d squirreled away in there—mementos from my life with Diana. I’m sorry. I just hadn’t been able to part with them.”
She’s too dumbfounded to speak. He’s wrong again, completely misunderstanding her motive.
“There are things I’d like to keep,” Tom continues, and his eyes brim with tears. “Photos for instance, a few cards and letters. But today I gave away something that belonged to Diana—a scarf that I suspect you saw in the office. I realize it was almost morbid to have held on to it, to have something so personal of hers here in the house with you.”
Relief sluices through Emma. The scarf belonged toDiana, not Taylor. Tom wasn’t trying to get rid of evidence from a murder scene, but rather removing a keepsake from his life with his first wife, just to make Emma feel more comfortable in their home.
But there are still other questions she doesn’t have answers to.
Her hands are in her lap, and she squeezes them together. Considering what’s going on with Justine, she’s not going to be able to question her about the Stowe weekend. The man she married is sitting across from her, and she needs to hear the truth from him, or at least his version of it, and then judge for herself.
“Tom, that wasn’t why I was in your office. I actually went in there to try to get a better sense of whoyouare. Because lately I’ve felt I don’t know you at all.”
“WhoIam?” he says, clearly flabbergasted by the comment. “You don’t think you know me, Emma?”
“My conversation with Scott really threw me. It sounded like you’d been keeping tabs on me in some weird way, that you orchestrated my involvement with Halliday.”
“But I already told you that wasn’t the case.”
“You have a wholefileon me, Tom—one that goes back several years.”
He narrows his eyes, as if he has no clue what she’s talking about, but a second later he nods.
