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After seeing him attack Ethan on the news last night, I’ve had some serious reservations about Will’s innocence. It’s possible a man harboring that kind of anger could’ve hit his wife over the head or pushed her overboard. But that’s between Will, his wife, and God. I want no part of it.
“Tempting, isn’t it, Mrs. Bishop?” Whitfield says, jerking me out of my reverie.
“My name is Julia Becker. And no, I’m not tempted. If I lie in court, I’ll be accused of accessory to murder. When I’m sent to prison, the Beaumonts are off the hook for the bribery payout.”
He gives his head a grave shake. “That’s not the way it works. I can guarantee you will not be charged.”
“How can you guarantee that?”
“You have to trust me on this.”
“I don’t trust you. I don’t even know you.” I jump to my feet. “Now, you need to leave.”
“I understand you need time to think about it. I’ll be back in touch in a couple of days.” Whitfield stands and takes a business card out of his wallet. “In the meantime, if you have questions, you can reach me at any of these numbers.” He hands me the card.
I take the card and tear it in half. “I won’t have any questions and I won’t lie in court. My integrity has a very high price, a price even your wealthy clients can’t afford.”
Whitfield places another business card on the coffee table. “You’ll change your mind in due time. But don’t take too long. The amount of our offer will decrease with every passing day.”
I march across the room and open the front door. “Please leave. And don’t come back.”
I wait until his fancy sports car has disappeared from the driveway before closing the door and collapsing against it. Conrad comes flying out of his room and flings himself at me, wrapping his arms around my legs and crying, “Mommy, are we in trouble again?”
I stuff the handgun back in its holster and wrap my arms tight around him. “I don’t know for sure yet, son. Maybe. I need to figure out a few things first. But I don’t want you to worry.” I hold him at arm’s length. “Are you hungry? What say we order pizza?”
The offer of pizza usually works with my son. And this time is no different. His lips turn up in a sad smile, and I get the impression he’s being brave for my benefit. “Pizza sounds good, Mommy.”
I paste on a fake smile as we go about our evening. Conrad is unusually quiet, and I can tell his mind is occupied with troubled thoughts. When I’m tucking him into bed, he says, “It’s okay if we have to move again, Mommy. Just don’t let them take you away from me like they did Daddy.”
My throat swells, and I force back tears. “No one is going to take me away from you, sweetheart.” Kissing his forehead, I stretch out beside him and wait until I’m certain he’s asleep.
Locating my phone, I go outside to the porch to call Eleanor. The minute I hear her voice, I burst into tears. “I’m in big trouble, Eleanor.” In between sobs, I fill her in on everything that has happened. “I made a huge mistake in leaving WITSEC. Is there any chance Conrad and I can come back?”
“I’m sorry, Julia. Helping you escape nearly cost me my job.”
Eleanor goes silent, and the sound of my uncontrollable sobs fills the line.
“Let me see what I can find out. Try to get yourself together. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”
Despite my best efforts to calm myself, I’m hiccup sobbing when Eleanor calls me back thirty minutes later. Between breaths, I manage to choke out, “I’m sorry, Eleanor. The dam burst, and the emotion I’ve been holding in for so long is overflowing.”
“I understand. You’ve been through a lot. After we hang up, lie down on your bed with a warm washcloth covering your eyes. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
I wouldn’t dare cover my eyes with a washcloth. I need to be on the lookout for intruders. “Did you find out anything?”
“Based on our intelligence, the cartel has not yet discovered your location. Of course, that could change at any minute. I suggest you reach out to Delilah Hart. She’s an independent journalist investigating The Six. Be honest with her. Tell her your story. She may be able to help.”
I have no intention of contacting the journalist, but I don’t want to be rude to Eleanor. It’s not her fault she has nothing else to give me. “Do you have her contact information?”
“No. You can message her through social media. She’s on nearly every platform.”
“Okay. Thanks, Eleanor.” I end the call feeling worse than before. I knew it was a long shot, but I was hoping WITSEC would accept me back into the program. I’m truly on my own now.
THIRTY-TWO
WILL
Officer Chrome Dome arrives early on Monday morning to escort me to magistrate court.
