Page 16 of The Wife

I didn’t realize I was still scrolling through Wilson Stewart’s Facebook page until I stopped suddenly on a photograph. He was drinking from a highball glass—something dark, maybe scotch. His eyes were glazed, trying to focus on the screen for the selfie he was taking. A thin arm was draped around his waist from behind. A head of dark shiny hair was visible over his shoulder, pale skin pressed against his neck as two lips found the lobe of his ear. No ring, not yet. It was Rachel Sutton.

I clicked “About” on this friend of Rachel’s profile page. He was also a graduate student at NYU. Current work: Fair Share Strategies.

“Jason, do you know someone named Wilson Stewart?”

“He’s one of the interns. Why?”

I rushed to the door when I heard keys in the lock. Jason wrapped his arms around me so tight that I felt a pinch beneath my ribs. I thought I heard him choke back a sob. When he finally let me go, he pressed his forehead lightly against mine and cupped the back of my head with his palm. “Don’t worry, babe. Everything’s going to be okay.”

I could tell he didn’t quite believe it, and was only saying it for my benefit. He knew all I ever wanted was a nice, quiet life together.

10

When I opened the front door for Colin forty minutes later, he gave me a quick hug. “How are you holding up?”

I shrugged.

“Where is he?” Colin asked, his eyes moving up the staircase.

“Kitchen. Eating ice cream.” That was usually my nervous habit, not his.

“How about Little Man?”

“I sent him to school this morning, thinking it would look bad to keep him home. Now I feel selfish.”

“You did the right thing. No use in him sitting around the house worrying about his parents.”

In the kitchen, we found Jason at the breakfast table. He greeted Colin with a “Hey, man” and an extended carton of peanut-butter-cup ice cream.

Colin declined the offer. “A defense attorney named Olivia Randall is on her way over.”

I had already googled her. Based on the number of newspaper articles about her celebrity clients and high-profile trials, she seemed like a heavy hitter.

“Does it make Jason look guilty to hire a lawyer so fast? Especially a big-name criminal defense lawyer?”

Jason apparently had the same concern. “It looks like I’m admitting I did something wrong.”

“Some girl’s trying to destroy you, Jason, and you’re sitting here with Häagen-Dazs like you’re in aCathycartoon.”

“Ack ack,” Jason said as he got up to put his ice cream away.

“You’re in denial, friend. This girl started a war with you. She needs to be swatted down like a bug. Olivia Randall will do it.”

I had seen photographs of Olivia online. Dark hair, intense. Pretty. Not entirely unlike Rachel Sutton. I pushed the thought away. What mattered was that she was a good lawyer, and that’s what Jason needed right now.

She arrived fifteen minutes later, dressed in a fitted black skirt and a bright green silk blouse. After quick introductions and professional handshakes, she skipped the chitchat and went directly to business.

“I’m sorry about this, Angela, but you can’t stay—”

Jason immediately interrupted. “I’ve already told Angela everything.”

“It’s not a matter of trust. To protect attorney-client privilege, Colin and I need to speak to Jason alone. And, no, it doesn’t matter that you’re his wife. In fact, having Colin or me around while the two of you speak destroys the privilege each of you shares with the other.”

I already felt like the stupidest person in the room. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

Colin placed a protective hand on my shoulder. “Angela’s the one who found something online about this Rachel girl that might be helpful. Why don’t we go over that first, and then the three of us can speak privately.”

I opened my laptop from the coffee table as we all got seated. Wilson Stewart’s Facebook page was already pulled up. “This is one of Jason’s other interns at his consulting practice. I found him by clicking on a recent photograph he was tagged in on Rachel’s page.”

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