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Caroline’s eyes widen. “She’s writing a book? That’s so cool! She might be famous one day. Wait until I tell Sophie,” she says, and dashes out of the kitchen.
I wait until I’m certain she’s out of earshot before I turn the television back on. I’m rewinding Striker’s segment when there’s a knock at the back door.
“Hey, man,” Carter Leach says. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by. Since Marlowe’s out of town, I thought I’d check on you.”
I step out of the way for him to enter. “Come on in. You’ve gotta see this.” I return to the television. “Did Marlowe ask you to look into Julia Becker’s background?”
“He did. But I haven’t had much time.”
I click the play arrow on the remote, and Ethan Striker appears on the screen. “On the surface, Julia Becker seems like your ordinary stay-at-home mother, who spends her days making up fairytale romances,” Striker says. “But her story doesn’t check out. The police background check reveals gaping holes.”
When the segment ends, I power off the television. “What do you make of that?”
“I’m not sure. Are you still seeing this woman?”
“Nope. She broke up with me. Not that we were ever really together.” I remove two bottles of Miller Lite from the refrigerator and hand one to him. “We had a couple of cookouts with our kids, and we’ve been on one date. We weren’t sleeping together, but I really liked her. She seemed normal. I just lost my wife. I wasn’t looking to start anything with anyone new. But we hit it off. I figured why not?” I pause to take a sip of beer. “I need to know what’s going on with her, Carter. Why does she spend her mornings at a shooting range? Is she colluding with my in-laws to destroy my life? I’m not even sure her name is Julia Becker.”
“Don’t worry. I’m on it. If she’s hiding something, I will find out what it is.”
“You’re a good man, Carter. Thanks.” Setting down my beer, I place a pot of water on the stove to boil. “Can you stay for dinner? My housekeeper makes the best marinara sauce. Although this time she’s trusting me to boil the noodles. We’ll see how that goes.”
Carter laughs. “I appreciate the offer. But I’m meeting friends later.”
We talk about my case while I’m waiting for the water to boil. Carter seems hopeful Marlowe will find something to use against my in-laws. “He’s on a mission. I’ve never seen him this determined. This isn’t just about you, Will. The case became personal for him when he lost his job.”
“I’m sorry for him, but it definitely works in my favor,” I say, dumping a box of thin spaghetti noodles into the boiling water.
Carter drains the last of his beer and hands me the empty bottle. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I find out more about Julia,” he says and lets himself out the back door.
As the noodles boil, I replay Striker’s news segment in my mind. Who is Julia? And where is she really from? Buddy told Ashton they moved here from Texas, but Julia claims they are from Colorado. Was she ever married? Is Buddy really her son? And why is she spending so much time at the shooting range? Who or what is she afraid of?
Thoughts of Julia prevent me from sleeping a wink that night. Crazy scenarios assault my imagination as I toss and turn. But only one makes sense.
When the first rays of dawn creep through my blinds, I give up on trying to sleep and get dressed. I smile to myself when I see Ashton’s bedroom door open and her bed still made. I’m glad one of us is enjoying ourselves.
I go down the hall to check on the girls. As I’m tucking the covers tight around Caroline, I happen to glance out the window and notice Ashton getting out of her convertible in the driveway. Her dreamy expression tells me everything I need to know about her night with Sully. Good for her. I wish those two all the best.
As Ashton approaches the front stoop, two figures in dark clothing dart out from around the side of the house. His brown curly mop identifies Ethan Striker. The other trespasser with him is built like a weightlifter and carries a professional video camera.
I fly down the stairs and sprint through the center hallway. By the time I get out the front door, Striker has a microphone shoved in Ashton’s face, and he’s spewing questions at her about me.
“How much do you know about your brother’s mystery woman? And what is Julia Becker hiding? You must be hiding something as well, sneaking in here at the crack of dawn. Where did you spend the night last night, Miss Darby? Do you have a mystery man as well?”
I spin Ethan around and punch him square between the eyes. He collapses to the ground like dead weight.
Ashton lets out a scream. “Will! Stop!”
I drop down on top of him, pummeling him with my fists.
“Easy there, buddy.” The cameraman pries me off of Ethan, lifting me to my feet. “We’re leaving. Go inside and cool off.”
When I try to go after Ethan again, Ashton drags me inside the house. “Come on. They’re leaving.”
“Get off my property before I call the police,” I yell at them seconds before Ashton slams the front door.
I fall back against the door. “I’m so sorry, Ashton. I can’t believe he treated you that way.”
“I can. After what he did to Julia, I’m not surprised. So many journalists are scum these days.”
