Page 21 of Dirty Liars

“I don’t think so,” I countered, shaking my head. “I took samples of seminal fluid from Chloe. Theo showed no signs of recent sexual activity. I’ve got enough DNA to see if it’ll match with Theo, but my gut says no.”

“Love, money, and revenge are the top three motives for murder,” Jack said thoughtfully, closing the file. “Now we have to figure out how sex ties into a tattoo and a ritual killing.”

“A lover scorned,” Doug said, shaking his head with the wisdom of someone who’d only experienced relationships through movies and TV shows. “I’d be a little upset too if the lady I was romantically involved with ran off and married another dude.”

Jack took out his phone, his fingers already scrolling through contacts. “We need that wedding guest list. Most likely whoever she had sex with was at the wedding.”

“That’s cold,” Doug said, wincing slightly.

“You need to eat something besides brownies for dinner,” Jack said absently, not looking up from his phone as he scrolled through numbers.

I suppressed a smile. Brownies seemed like a perfectly okay dinner to me, especially after the day I’d had, but I figured I’d indulge Jack. He was new at the whole pregnancy thing too, and his protective instincts were in overdrive.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll eat a sandwich.”

Jack looked at me skeptically and left the room to make his call. I turned to Doug with a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ll pay you twenty bucks to make me what you’re having. And drizzle some honey on top.”

“You got it,” Doug said with a grin, already reaching for the ingredients. “There’s one banana left.”

“What? We just bought a bushel yesterday,” I said, genuinely baffled at the rate of banana consumption in our household.

“Yeah,” he said, grinning unrepentantly as he peeled the last banana. “Those things went fast. You’ve got to eat bananas quick or they’ll go bad.”

I just sighed, watching him assemble my contraband sandwich with practiced ease. For all his computer genius, Doug’s culinary talents were largely limited to items that could be slathered with peanut butter or drowned in syrup—a fact for which I was currently grateful.

While Doug crafted my sandwich, I dutifully went to the fridge to pull out turkey and cheese and all the healthy things Jack liked on his sandwich. I arranged them on a plate with mechanical precision, my mind already circling back to the bizarre case we were facing.

Jack returned to the kitchen just as I slid his plate across the island, the perfect picture of a dutiful wife providing a nutritious meal. If he suspected anything about my imminent peanut butter banana transaction, he didn’t let on.

“I was able to get in touch with the wedding planner,” he said, pocketing his phone. “She just emailed me the guest list. Let’s work in the office. I’m going to try and put some pressure on the guys from the State Department to get me Theo’s full background. And I want to go talk to the parents first thing in the morning.”

“Sounds like you might need a little preview into State Department records,” Doug said, cracking his knuckles with exaggerated significance. He grabbed an unopened bag of chips and a soda from the fridge, his eyes glinting with the thrill of a potential digital heist.

“Not yet,” Jack warned, fixing Doug with a look that brooked no argument. “We’ll give them a chance to do things the easy way first. We’ve got plenty of work to do without you having to hack into the State Department.”

Doug shoved another brownie in his mouth, his expression noncommittal, and then left the room with his chips and soda, the lack of verbal response speaking volumes.

I caught Jack’s eye as Doug disappeared down the hallway, and we shared a knowing look. Doug’s silence almost certainly meant he’d already hacked into the State Department databases—probably on a daily basis, just to keep his skills sharp. Some kids practiced piano—Doug practiced circumventing government security systems.

Jack must have gotten that impression too because he looked at me and said, “Bring your sandwich.”

“Doug has the chips I want,” I said.

“You’re meaner than him,” Jack said. “Just take them from him.”

I had no idea why Jack’s statement hit me wrong. I knew somewhere in my brain that he was just teasing. But I started crying and couldn’t seem to stop. Which made both of us very uncomfortable because I’m not a crier. The buildup from the day had reached its peak and had no place left to go except to leak out my eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked. “Are you hurt?”

I felt crippled with the weight of emotions that were pressing down on me, and I hunched down and hid my face.

“God, Jaye,” he said, physically picking me up and moving me to the closest chair. “Do I need to call the doctor? Tell me what you need.”

My cheeks were flooded with tears, and Jack’s face blurred in my vision. “You…you said I was…you said I was mean.” And then a fresh burst of tears escaped and I buried my head in my hands.

I could feel Jack close beside me, but I couldn’t see what he was doing or his expression. The not knowing made me cry harder.

Jack scooped me up and then took my place in the chair, setting me on his lap. “Umm, Jaye? You’re going to have to help me out here. I have no idea what to do in this situation except apologize.”

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