Lie To Me. J.T. Ellison

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СКАЧАТЬ you heard from her yet, Ethan?” Filly had both her babies, the one born alongside Dashiell, only a few days apart, and the accidental second baby, still a newborn, conceived the first time she and her husband had sex after the gynecologist cleared them. Of course Filly had waited the proscribed six weeks. She was not a rule breaker. Not like Sutton... And never mind that it might cause him pain to see the perfectly wrapped cherubs in their ridiculously expensive running stroller.

      “No, I haven’t.” He noticed the little yellow-haired girl from across the street playing on the sidewalk in front of her house. She stopped and stared at him, then burst into tears and rushed into her garage. Jesus, was the whole world convinced he’d done something wrong? Or was he just being paranoid?

      Focus, Ethan.

      He stepped aside and let them in. Ellen was all darting eyes and pinched mouth, as if she expected Sutton’s body to be hanging and twisting in midair from the upstairs banister. Filly entered as if this were her castle, her domain, bumped the stroller over the threshold, marched straight through the foyer, and veered off toward the kitchen. Rachel, though, locked eyes on Ethan and didn’t break the gaze. Was she just stoned, or was she trying to discern something? Probably reading his aura or predicting his demise from the numbers of hairs standing up at the crown of his head or some such nuttiness. He blinked first, and she followed him into the kitchen.

      They formed up, half circled him, a scrum prepared to take him down. Filly had been nominated as spokesperson for the group. She was standing slightly in front of the other two, aggressive, even for her. She cleared her throat importantly.

      “We’ve talked it over, and we think you should go to the police.”

      All three women nodded. The elder baby woke, gurgled, and cooed.

      He leaned against the counter. “What would you like me to tell them? My wife left me a note and said she didn’t want me to look for her, then disappeared. There’s $50,000 cash missing from our accounts, by the way. She’s done a runner.”

      Ellen—cool, logical Ellen, her hair in a simple ponytail, crisp and clean—spoke at last. “She hasn’t been happy. It’s possible she’d leave. But to not tell us? I don’t know that I buy all of this.”

      “Meaning what?” Ethan asked.

      She waved a hand. “You expect us to believe she up and left, without a word to any of us, without her things? You say she left a note. Now you tell us she took money, too? It just doesn’t feel right to me. Sutton would confide in us if she decided to do this.” A deep breath, a glance to her friends. “Did you hurt her, Ethan? Now is the time to come clean.”

      “Hurt her?” As he said it, he realized all three women were shivering. Rachel was downright shaking. A dawning realization. They were afraid of him. That’s why they’d come in hard and fast together—this was more than a confrontation. They were protecting each other.

      “I didn’t do anything to Sutton, and I believe it’s time for you to leave.”

      His sharp tone woke the infant, who wailed to life like the squawk of a siren. Filly shot Ethan a nasty glance, reached for her bundle of joy.

      “I’m serious. You lot, leave, right now. I can’t believe you’ve come over here to accuse me. I didn’t hurt Sutton. I’m worried sick about her.”

      Rachel, her voice quivering but her pointed chin inching up, said, “Sutton is a gentle soul. She’s been badly bruised by everything that’s happened the past year. And you’ve been fighting lately, she told me as much.”

      “All couples fight, Rachel. Ours are no worse than anyone else. You fight with Susannah all the time.”

      “That’s different. We have a sacred space for conflict, we have rules—”

      “Oh, for God’s sake. I didn’t hurt her. If anything, I’m more worried she went off and hurt herself.”

      Three uneasy stares. He shouldn’t have said that. It just came out.

      Ellen was the first to speak. “Are you saying she was suicidal?”

      Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. She isn’t. I’m saying I’ve thought about every possibility this morning. She left me. That’s what I know for sure. But Rachel is right. Sutton has had a very hard time since the baby... No, I don’t think she’d do that.” He was rambling. Shut up, Ethan. “I think she wants some drama, is all.”

      Wrong thing to say, take two.

      Filly clutched the crying baby closer. “You are a coldhearted bastard, Ethan Montclair. How could you say such a thing? Your wife is missing!”

      “That’s it. I want you all to leave.” When they didn’t move, he shouted, “Now!” at them, which had the effect of throwing a rock into a flock of pigeons.

      “This isn’t over, Ethan. Now that we know... Either you call the police, or we will.” Ellen threw in the last bit over her shoulder, and five seconds later the door slammed behind them. The finality of it shocked him.

      Bloody hell. Women.

      He paced the house for a few minutes, gathering himself, planning. He had to do something here, had to make a decision. Had she left him, as the note and $50,000 missing from their accounts indicated? Was she up for a bit of drama to punish him for his lack of attention lately? Or was it possible that she had hurt herself, and the money was for something else? Misdirection?

      A moment of actual sanity hit him. Sutton’s friends thought he’d hurt her. The police would, too. It was time to talk to the lawyer.

       BURN ALL THE LAWYERS

      Joel Robinson’s office was three blocks away. Ethan decided to walk. If the lawyer wasn’t there, he’d leave a note. He simply had to move, to get out of the house. Get away from Sutton’s shade, lingering about like a malevolent ghost.

      Robinson was short, round, red-nosed, a cheerful Santa Claus with white hair and a long beard. He worked out of the third story of a lovely Victorian on Fifth Avenue that had been converted to individual offices a decade hence. He had no secretary, opting to manage all of his clients in a state of utter secrecy. While they’d been social acquaintances for several years, Ethan never thought he’d grace the man’s professional door. Yet here he was.

      Thankfully, said door was unlocked, and Robinson himself was inside. What luck.

      Ethan rapped his knuckles on the door frame.

      “Joel? Am I interrupting?”

      “Ethan. Hello. Just prepping for a case, court later this week. What’s up? You ready to schedule that drink?”

      “I was hoping I could buy you lunch. I need to run something by you.”

      Robinson cocked his head to the side. “Sorry, no can do today. Client coming in shortly. Why don’t we shoot for tomorrow?”

      In his hesitation, something must have shown on Ethan’s face, because Robinson waved a hand and said, “But I have fifteen minutes now. Tell me your troubles.”

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