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BOOK 2: Trashy Conquest
1. Lawyer Up
Cash
I’m surrounded by four slab walls. No windows except for the small rectangle of glass in the door. A camera blinks in the corner of the room, catching everything from its anchor in the ceiling. I spotted less intimidating rooms on the way in, so I’m guessing Detective Riley wants me on edge.
This isn’t happening.
Those three words are on repeat in my head, bouncing off the foggy walls of my mind. Riley is talking, but I’ve succumbed to a blanket of shock since they told me about the woman they found dead in our fucking living room.
The fact that my wife isn’t the one in a body bag right now is my only comfort. I wrap myself in that knowledge as I watch Riley’s lips move. A furrow forms in the space between his thick brows, but none of it registers. Even if it did, I wouldn’t recognize suspicion from sympathy anyway.
His forehead creases, and I realize he asked me something and is expecting a response. But what does he want from me? Am I supposed to be shocked? Worried? Terrified for my wife?
All I am is poleaxed, and not in a good way.
“I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?”
“Do you know where your wife is?”
“I already told you I don’t,” I say with a shake of my head. I’ve tried calling her cell, but it keeps going straight to voicemail.
He shifts in his seat across from me. “How did your wife know the victim?”
Lydia Hirsch.
The woman I interviewed two months ago for the personal assistant position.
The woman Monica said was a friend.
The woman who’s now headed for the morgue, and I can hardly wrap my head around it.
“I don’t know how they knew each other. Monica said Lydia was a friend.”
“You don’t seem to know much about any of this, do you, Mr. Montgomery?” There’s a sarcastic edge to his tone that I don’t miss. “Can you at least tell me where your wife might have gone?”
The photo of her with another man assaults my mind, and I resist grinding my teeth. “She was having an affair. I suppose it’s possible she’s with him.”
“Do you have an address for this guy?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know who she’s screwing either.”
“How do you know your wife is having an affair?” He’s watching me with keen blue eyes, as if searching for a telling sign.
“Someone sent me a photo.”
“I bet that made you angry.”
“It would make anyone angry.”
Riley’s expression levels out, and he gives me a slight dip of his chin. “When did you receive this photo?”
“About two months ago.”
“And you don’t know who sent it?”
“No.”
