Page 68 of The Wife

“Forgive me if I don’t feel sorry for her.”

“Was Mr. Harris also here with you last night?”

“No, just us. We couldn’t fall asleep and watchedLa La Landin bed.”

“On TV?”

“We streamed it.”

“Where’s your son?”

“Camp. Upstate. He called last night,” she added. “My cell phone around seven thirty. You can verify that, too.”

Corrine nodded. She’d get the phone records and make sure the information lined up. “And he spoke to both of you?”

“Yes, of course. Now, if we’re done, I’d start looking more carefully at Ms. Lynch if I were you.”

“You mean,forMs. Lynch.”

“No, I meanather. Because I guarantee that whatever she’s pulling right now, it has something to do with the scam she’s running with her employer.” Angela stepped aside and gestured for Corrine to come in. “Feel free to take a look. I assure you, she’s not here.”

Corrine pursed her lips and nodded, realizing that she wasn’t going to get the response she’d been hoping for. “I know you don’t believe me, Angela, but I’m on your side. How well do you really know your husband?”

“I know he’s innocent.”

Corrine might have pressed harder if she hadn’t known about this woman’s past. “At some point, you’re no longer a bystander. You become an enabler. And after that, I can no longer help you. Don’t let Jason take you and your boy down with him.”

43

The second the door closed, I began shaking. I calmed myself by forcing myself to think through every task I needed to complete, in a very precise order.

Once the Impala was gone, I turned on my cell phone and waited for it to power up. I checked my voice mail. The only message besides the detective’s was from Susanna, asking if I was mad at her. Jason had respected my request to give me some space.

My first call was to Olivia Randall. I left a message telling her that the police had come to the house asking about Jason’s whereabouts the previous night, and that I’d explained that he’d been with me all night. My next call was to Colin.

“Hey, you.” His voice was gentle.

There was so much I wanted to say, but all I could think about was the fact that I had just lied to a detective. “Where are you?”

“A closing in midtown.” He sounded alarmed. “Are you all right?”

“Was Jason at your apartment last night?”

“Yeah. He said you had a fight. A really bad one.” He lowered his voice further. “At first, I was worried he came to me because of what happened with us yesterday. But he said he wanted to crash for the night. What’s going on?”

“Kerry Lynch is missing.”

“What? Since when?”

“I don’t know, but a detective was just here asking me where Jason was last night, and she also said Kerry was missing.”

“Since last night is hardly missing.”

“I was going to say he was at your apartment,” I said, “and then I realized how bad that would look. I was so done with him last night, but when she started asking me questions with that accusing tone, my instincts kicked in. I’ve gotten so used to jumping to his defense, I did it on autopilot. Should I call her and tell her the truth? I have her number.”

He paused, clearly weighing the options. “No. It’s fine. Whether he was with me or with you is irrelevant. Changing your story now will only look worse, and they could wind up targeting you for not coming clean in the first place.”

“But what if they find out I lied?”

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