and checked out the hot bars. Jessie was happy and probably could have stayed that way for a long time.
But then Kyle got a promotion at the company’s office in Orange County and insisted they move to a McMansion there. Jessie had consented, despite her apprehension. It was only then that Kyle’s true nature was revealed. He became obsessed with joining a secret club that turned out to be a front for a prostitution ring. He began an affair with one of the women there. And when it went bad, he killed her and tried to frame Jessie for it. To top it all off, when Jessie uncovered his plot, he tried to kill her too.
But even now, as she studied the wedding photo, there was no hint of what her husband was ultimately capable of. He looked like a handsome, amiable, rough-around-the-edges future master of the universe. She crumpled up the photo and tossed it toward the trash can in the kitchen. It dropped right in the center, giving her an unexpected cathartic rush.
Swish! That must mean something.
There was something freeing about this place. Everything—the new furniture, the lack of personal mementos, even the borderline paranoid security measures—belonged to her. She had a fresh start.
She stretched out, allowing her muscles to relax after the long flight on the tightly packed plane. This apartment was hers—the first place in over half a dozen years she could truly say that about. She could eat pizza on the couch and leave the box lying around without worrying about anyone complaining. Not that she was the type to do that. But the point was, she could.
The thought of pizza made her suddenly hungry. She got up and checked the fridge. Not only was it empty, it wasn’t even turned on. Only then did she remember that she’d left it that way, not seeing any reason to pay for the electricity if she was going to be gone for two and a half months.
She plugged it in and, feeling restless, decided to make a grocery run. Then she had another idea. Since she didn’t start work until tomorrow and it wasn’t too late in the afternoon there was another stop she could make: a place—and a person—she knew she’d eventually have to visit.
She had managed to put it out of her head for most of her time at Quantico but there was still the matter of Bolton Crutchfield. She knew she should let it go, that he had been baiting her during their last meeting.
And yet she had to know: had Crutchfield really found a way to meet with her father, Xander Thurman, the Ozarks Executioner? Had he found a way to reach out to the murderer of countless people, including her mother; the man who left her, a six-year-old child, tied up next to the body to face certain death in a freezing, isolated cabin?
She was about to find out.
CHAPTER THREE
Eliza was waiting when Gray got home that night. He arrived in time for dinner, with a look on his face that suggested he knew what was coming. Since Millie and Henry were sitting right there eating their mac & cheese with hot dog slices, neither parent said anything about the situation.
It was only after the kids were down for the night that it came up. Eliza was standing in the kitchen when Gray walked in after putting them to sleep. He had taken off his sport coat but was still wearing his loosened tie and slacks. She suspected it was to make him look more credible.
Gray wasn’t a big man. At five foot nine and 160 pounds he was only an inch taller than she was, though he outweighed her by a good thirty pounds. But they both knew that he was far less imposing in a T-shirt and sweatpants. Business attire was his armor.
“Before you say anything,” he began, “please let me try to explain.”
Eliza, who had spent much of the day turning over how this could have happened, was happy let her anguish take a temporary back seat and allow him to squirm as he tried to justify himself.
“Be my guest,” she said.
“First. I’m sorry. No matter what else I say, I want you to know that I apologize. I should never have let it happen. It was a moment of weakness. She’s known me for years and she knew my vulnerabilities, what would pique my interest. I should have known better but I fell for it.”
“What are you saying?” Eliza asked, dumbfounded as much as hurt. “That Penny was some seductress who manipulated you into having an affair with her? We both know that you’re a weak man, Gray, but are you kidding me?”
“No,” he said, choosing not to respond to the “weak” comment. “I take full responsibility for my actions. I had the three whiskey sours. I ogled her legs in the dress with the slit up the side. But she knows what makes me tick. I guess it’s all those heart-to-hearts you two have had over the years. She knew to brush her fingertip along my forearm. She knew to talk, almost purr in my left ear. She likely knew you hadn’t done any of those things in a long time. And she knew you wouldn’t be walking into that cocktail party because you were back home, knocked out on the sleeping pills you take most nights.”
That hung in the air for several seconds as Eliza tried to compose herself. When she was sure she wouldn’t yell, she replied in a shockingly quiet voice.
“Are you blaming me for this? Because it sounds like you’re saying you couldn’t keep it in your pants because I have trouble sleeping at night.”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he sniveled, backing down at the venom in her words. “It’s just that you always have trouble sleeping at night. And you never seem all that interested in staying up with me.”
“Just to be clear, Grayson—you say you’re not blaming me. But then you immediately transition into saying I’m too knocked out on Valium and don’t give you enough big boy attention, so you had to have sex with my best friend.”
“What kind of best friend is she to do that anyway?” Gray tossed out desperately.
“Don’t change the subject,” she spat, forcing herself to keep her voice steady, partly to avoid waking the kids but mostly because doing so was the only thing keeping her from losing it. “She’s already on my list. It’s your turn now. You couldn’t have come to me and said, ‘Hey honey, I’d really love to spend a romantic evening with you tonight’ or ‘Sweetie, I feel disconnected from you lately. Can we get closer this evening?’ Those weren’t options?”
“I didn’t want to wake you up to bother you with questions like that,” he replied, his voice meek but his words cutting.
“So you’ve decided sarcasm is the way to go here?” she demanded.
“Look,” he said, wriggling around for any way out, “it’s over with Penny. She told me that this afternoon and I agreed. I don’t know how we move past this but I want to, if only for the kids.”
“If only for the kids?’ she repeated, stunned at how many ways he could fail at once. “Just get out. I’m giving you five minutes to pack a bag and be in your car. Book a hotel until further notice.”
“You’re kicking me out of my own house?” he asked, disbelieving. “The house I paid for?”
“Not only am I kicking you out,” she hissed, “if you’re not pulling out of the driveway in five minutes, I’m calling the cops.”
“To tell them what?”
“Try me,” she seethed.
Gray stared at her. Undeterred, she walked over to the phone and picked it up. It was only when he heard the dial
