“You’re a dick, Walton,” Ben mutters.
Well, at least Ben and I agree on one thing.
Aubrey slumps in her chair and her tears are falling freely now, with no attempt to wipe them away. Then she gets up and disappears from view. Seconds later, the video ends.
It’s impossible not to feel sorry for her. For what she’s been through.
Ben doesn’t move for several minutes, just seems to stare at the frozen screen. Finally, he spins around in his chair, and I can see his face. His head leans against the back of the chair and his eyes are closed. There is tension in his features that wasn’t there before watching the video.
After several minutes, he straightens and focuses on the desk in front of him, shuffling the pile of papers while muttering to himself every few minutes.
“Fuck!”
He screams so loud I swear it reaches the attic. Ben stands up abruptly, his right hand sweeping across the desk, causing papers to fly off the surface before floating gently to the floor.
Oh, he’s pissed.
Deep, heaving breaths rush in and out as he stares at the mess. It takes a few minutes for him to get himself back together, then he takes his time picking up each individual piece of paper like he didn’t just lose it. One by one, he stacks them neatly on the corner of his desk. Finally, he turns back to the laptop on the credenza behind him, ejects the drive, then drops it on his desk.
Once everything is back in order, he goes to the bar cabinet in the bookcase that lines the side wall. He pours a healthy amount of whiskey in one of the cut crystal tumblers I gave him the first Christmas we were married. The same pattern that matches the wineglasses from our registry. He throws the drink back in one swallow, letting out a quick cough after it goes down.
I thought the drunken night at the DU banquet was odd, but it’s definitely out of the norm for him to hit the hard liquor midafternoon. Honestly, though, I’m going to need several drinks myself when I get out of this attic.
Ben refills his glass and takes his time with round two, pacing in front of his desk while he sips his drink. When his glass is empty again, he seems to contemplate a third drink but instead turns away and heads back to his chair behind his desk.
He pulls out some of the papers from the same envelope that held the drive. “Aubrey, you just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” he mutters to himself.
Okay, here we go. While the delivery of the Mustang threw me off, it seems we’re back on track. Aubrey believes he wanted me out of the house today because Ben was finally getting his hands on the evidence Paul says will set him free. Knowing that if that evidence implicates him in some way, Ben won’t hesitate destroying it. It’s why I’m here, armed with cameras to try to get what we can. While Paul would need something that would be admissible in court to change his fate, I won’t. I just need enough evidence of his illegal activities to trigger that clause in my prenup.
After he reads through the document in front of him, Ben picks up his phone and places a call. Thankfully, it’s on speaker.
The call is answered on the second ring. “Yeah.”
Ben doesn’t bother with hello, just goes straight into the reason for the call. “When did she visit the cops in Corbeau?”
“Couple of months ago. My contact didn’t hear about it until a few days ago. The whole department is chaotic right now ever since Walton took over.”
I know Ben keeps a couple of PIs on the payroll and I’m guessing this is one of them.
“I’m not paying you for old information.” Ben gets up from his chair and paces behind his desk. “You assured me Aubrey didn’t know anything significant. That Paul hadn’t told her anything specific. She told Walton someone connected to Paul’s case went to see him! That’s pretty fucking specific! How hard do you think it would be to get a list of Paul Granger’s visitors?”
It takes a moment for the man to reply. “Not much slips past my guy, but this did.”
“Now we have to give Aubrey something or she’s going to become a problem. I don’t relish making that girl’s life any harder but I need her to stop questioning this.”
Whatever small part of me thought we could have gotten whatever this is all wrong just vanished.
“I hear you and I’ll take care of it. When are you going for the safe?” the PI asks.
Ben glances at his watch then gets up and heads to the kitchen, taking his phone with him to continue his conversation. He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and twists open the top, taking a long drink. “Got a couple of meetings here first, then I’ll head over there around six.”
He’s leaving? And what safe is he talking about?
He can’t leave. I have the cameras set up here.
“Foster’s place will be empty, right?” Ben asks. “I’m going to be pissed if I drive all the way to Corbeau and someone’s there.”
What.
