I continued to stare at the last images of my husband. “Can I have copies of these?” I asked. “I’d like to show them to my children.” Butwould they want to see the photos now that they knew about the secret house? I’d called them every day since they’d found out about Lizzie Martins. Ayla barely picked up. Adam was always in a hurry to get off the phone.
“I’m sure that can be arranged.” She pointed to one photo with a red-tipped nail. “As I said, we’ve been able to identify almost everyone.” She tapped the face of a man next to Ali. “Do you know this man?”
He was a stranger to me. “No, I’ve never seen him.” My gaze slid over the photo until it landed on a familiar face. I scrutinized the image more closely, the baldness on top and band of dark hair curving around the sides. Chills scattered through me.
“I do know this man. But what was Bill Warren doing at a Channel Three event? He worked with Ali at the accounting firm. He had nothing to do with the TV station.”
“Who is Bill Warren?” Nasser asked.
I explained about Bill Warren and Fake Jake.
Nasser shifted in his seat. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I tried to on the elevator.”
“What exactly happened?” Detective Fox interjected.
“Bill Warren came to my house on two separate occasions. You can ask my sister.” I looked to Nasser. “Lulu was there the first time this guy came over. She saw him. He picked up Ali’s computer and dropped off things from his desk.”
“He said he was a friend from college?” Nasser seemed to search his memory. “I’ve never heard of the guy and I was Ali’s roommate all four years at school. I think I would have met him.”
Detective Fox scribbled some notes on a notepad. “Mrs. Abadi, did Bill Warren ask you for anything else or bring you anything else?”
I thought back. “He did ask if there were any of Ali’s work papers at the house. I looked but I didn’t find any.”
She stood up. “If you’ll excuse me for just a minute. I need to check something.”
After she left, I looked at Nasser. “Why would Ali’s coworker lie about who he is?”
“I can’t think of an aboveboard reason. Can you?”
“No.” I picked up the photo. As I stared at the grainy image of the only man I’d ever loved romantically, countless interactions with Ali flashed through my mind. The mundane. The loving. His smile. The way his mouth tightened when he was mad. How cherished he made me feel. How I could always depend on him. The depth of my love for him.
You know that I would never do anything to hurt you, right?His words from our second honeymoon came back to me.I never loved anyone more than I love you. Nothing means more to me than you and our family.
The common thread of reflections from the people who knew him best—Nasser, his college friends, and even his colleagues—flooded my thoughts.
Ali wasn’t the cheating type.
Ali loved Amira.
He wouldn’t cheat on her.
Seemed so into you.
Always so pleasant and thoughtful.
All Ali ever talked about was you and the kids.
Everyone thought he was a devoted family man.
Hard to believe that Ali led any kind of double life.
Something clicked in my brain and it was like I’d known the truth all along. If only I’d trusted my instincts from the beginning. Ali would never cheat on me. Iknewit in my bones. I sagged into the chair, relief flooding me. I felt light, almost giddy. But I still needed to prove what I knew in my gut, and to fully restore and protect Ali’s reputation, especially for his children.
Nasser’s voice broke into my thoughts. “Cuz looks good,” he said, peering over my shoulder.
I soaked in my husband’s face. The smile I missed so much. The man I knew had been true to me. “He looks preoccupied.” My throat clogged. “I hope his last hours were good ones.”
