“The FBI thinks he did,” Jay said.
“Well, they’re wrong.”
“They wouldn’t be charging him if they didn’t have evidence.”
“What evidence?” she charged back. “How could they have evidence? Who did they talk to? And when? There haven’t been any Federal agents around here.”
“Not that we can see.”
That stopped her. Closing a hand on her scarf, she said in a voice that was only marginally conciliatory, “You mean, they’ve been snooping around in people’s computers—hacking into our accounts—doing the same thing they’re saying Chris did? Isn’t that illegal without a warrant or something?”
“Cybersecurity still has lots of holes. Clearly, they were following a trail and saw something that led them to Chris.”
Grace pulled herself up straight. “And clearly you agree, which means you’re not the lawyer for me. Come on, Maggie, let’s go.” She had started to turn when Jay caught her arm.
“I do not agree,” he said. He went on slowly, firmly. “I don’t know what evidence they have, but I know how to discredit evidence. That’s what I do, sweetie. You need me.” They stood staring at each other, Grace smaller but no less ardent, with Jay, thin of hair and round of face, the blander of the two. Oh, he was pleasant enough to look at, but sexy enough for Grace to have slept with? I couldn’t see it.
Not that I was any judge. I was immune to sexy. I hadn’t been with anyone since Edward—hadn’t beenattractedto anyone since Edward—and the Edward who had just walked out of here was older, more tired, and clearly no more pleased to see me than I was to see him—which raised the question of why he was here. I didn’t buy into the new owner of the Inn thing. Edward was a venture capitalist, not a resort owner. There had to be a better explanation.
Sounding defiant, Grace said, “There are other lawyers in the state.”
Jay sighed, seeming to weary of the fight. “Yeah, well, since you and I have already played the ultimate game, now we can get down tobusiness. Do you want someone to get your son out of jail today or not?”
She gasped. “He’s in acell?”
“Not yet, but if we don’t get down there pretty soon, he will be. Are we going?”
“Yes, you’re going,” I said, seeing my out. “Indulge her, Jay. She’s frightened for her son. Grace, I’m going home.”
But the eyes that flew to mine held sheer terror. “No, no, Maggie, stay with me, just a little longer?”
Jay took his parka from a hook by the door. “Tell you what.” He shrugged it on. “Maggie will drive you to the station. I’ll follow in my car. Keep her calm, Maggie. Make sure she understands that when we get there, she has to keep her big mouth shut.”
***
I didn’t know whether Grace was heeding his warning or simply too upset to speak. But after climbing into my truck, she huddled against the door with her legs tucked tight and her arms pressed to her sides. Her mouth was a thin seam just above her scarf. Her eyes focused on the windshield and didn’t budge.
Mine did the same, if for different reasons. Forget Edward. Right here, right now, Grace was my responsibility. I negotiated the roundabout with care, waited for an opening, then fell into single file among the cars on South Main. There were more cars than usual for a Thursday afternoon—foranyafternoon—in Devon. I told myself that it was rush hour. But rush hour in Devon? That was a laugh.
With traffic holding the speed to a stop-and-go crawl, I darted a look at Grace. She didn’t see me in her periphery, didn’t blink, didn’t speak, any of which was so out of character that I worried she had gone to some far and irretrievable place. Needing her back, I said, “I’m sure there’s an explanation, Gracie. Jay will iron it out.”
She said nothing.
“Does Chris have his own computer?”
“You’ve been to the house,” was her solemn response. “You’ve seen it.”
“I’ve seen yours, not his.”
“The one on the kitchen table is his. Mine’s in my bedroom.”
I considered that as we crept along. “If his is in the kitchen, you must see what he does.”
“Like I understand it?” she said so quickly she might have been asking herself the very same thing.
“Homework, you mean.”
“Any of it.”
