PART 2 — THE WOMAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH

Her sister arrived at 6:40.

She stood outside my front door, staring at the new lock as if it were a loaded gun.

“Your key doesn’t work,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“Theo, please.”

She stepped inside when I opened the door, but she didn’t take off her coat.

She kept looking toward the staircase.

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

Her face changed.

Not surprise.

Fear.

That was the first thing that made me pause.

“You know where she is,” I said.

She shook her head.

“No. I don’t.”

“Then why are you afraid?”

She looked at the watch sitting on the coffee table.

Her eyes went straight to it.

And then she started crying.

Not the angry crying I’d expected.

Not the offended crying of a sister defending her family.

She covered her mouth and whispered,

“Oh God.”

I picked up the watch.

“You recognize it?”

She didn’t answer.

“It’s her boss’s.”

“I know.”

“How?”

She stared at me for several seconds.

Then she sat down.

“Because I’ve seen it before.”

“Where?”

She wiped her cheeks.

“In your house.”

My stomach tightened.

“When?”

“Three weeks ago.”

I felt the room become strangely quiet.

“What was he doing here?”

She looked toward the hallway.

“He wasn’t alone.”

I didn’t speak.

She lowered her voice.

“Theo, your wife wasn’t cheating on you.”

I almost laughed.

It wasn’t funny.

“You’re standing in my house telling me my wife isn’t cheating on me while I’m holding her boss’s watch.”

“He isn’t her lover.”

“Then what is he?”

She looked directly at me.

“He’s the reason she disappeared.”

My fingers tightened around the watch.

“What does that mean?”

Before she could answer, headlights swept across the living-room wall.

A car had stopped outside.

My wife’s car.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

“She came back?”

Her sister stood up so quickly she knocked over the chair.

“No.”

“What?”

“That isn’t her.”

The front door opened.

My wife walked inside.

Her hair was wet.

Her face was pale.

And she was wearing the same clothes I’d seen her wearing two days earlier when she told me she was staying home for the night.

She looked at me.

Then at her sister.

Then at the watch.

And she froze.

“You weren’t supposed to be home until Sunday.”

“I know.”

She swallowed.

“Where were you?”

She didn’t answer.

I stepped toward her.

“Where were you last night?”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“I can’t tell you.”

“You can.”

“No, Theo. I really can’t.”

“Then tell me one thing.”

She nodded.

“Is your boss involved?”

She closed her eyes.

That was answer enough.

Her sister whispered,

“Tell him.”

My wife shook her head.

“I can’t.”

I held up the folder containing the bank statements.

“Sixty-one thousand four hundred dollars.”

She stared at it.

“You found it.”

“I found the money.”

Her face went completely white.

“You shouldn’t have looked.”

That sentence stopped me.

Not I can explain.

Not you’ve misunderstood.

Not even I’m sorry.

You shouldn’t have looked.

“Where did it go?”

She began shaking.

“I had to.”

“Had to what?”

“Move it.”

“Why?”

She looked at her sister.

Her sister nodded slowly.

Then my wife finally said the words that changed everything.

“Because someone was trying to kill me.”

I stared at her.

For a few seconds, neither of us moved.

Then I heard a car door slam outside.

My wife turned toward the window.

Her expression changed instantly.

“Is he here?”

“Who?”

“My boss.”

“No.”

She looked relieved.

Then the phone in her pocket started ringing.

She pulled it out.

One number.

Blocked.

She didn’t answer.

It stopped.

Then came a message.

She looked at the screen.

And dropped the phone.

I picked it up.

The message contained only six words:

YOU BROUGHT HIM HOME EARLY. BIG MISTAKE.

My blood ran cold.

Because whoever sent it knew I had come home early.

They knew where I lived.

And they knew my wife had come home.

My wife grabbed my arm.

“Theo.”

“What?”

“There is something else.”

“What?”

She looked toward the staircase.

“Someone has been inside this house.”

I stared at her.

“The locks were changed at two-thirty.”

“I know.”

“No one could get in.”

She shook her head.

“They didn’t come through the doors.”

“What are you talking about?”

She pointed upstairs.

“Your office.”

We climbed the stairs together.

The door to my office was open.

I knew I’d closed it before leaving for my trip.

Inside, everything looked normal.

My desk.

My laptop.

The books.

The framed photograph of us from our honeymoon.

Then my wife walked straight to the bookshelf.

She reached behind three old financial books.

And pulled out a small black device.

A recording device.

I stared at it.

“What is that?”

Her hands were trembling.

“It was hidden here six months ago.”

“By whom?”

She looked at me.

“I don’t know.”

Then she pressed the button.

A man’s voice filled the room.

My voice.

But I hadn’t said those words.

The recording was from our kitchen.

And it was dated three months ago.

I heard myself say:

“She’s starting to suspect something.”

My wife covered her mouth.

I listened again.

My voice continued:

“Once the money is moved, she’ll have nowhere to go.”

I looked at my wife.

She was crying.

“That isn’t me.”

“I know.”

“But that’s my voice.”

“I know.”

Then another voice came through the recording.

A man’s voice.

Calm.

Cold.

And unmistakably familiar.

Her boss.

He said:

“Don’t worry. By the time Theo comes home, he’ll believe she betrayed him.”

The recording stopped.

Nobody moved.

My wife looked at me.

And whispered:

“They planned all of this.”

I thought about the watch.

The missing money.

The motel charges.

The cold bed.

The strange messages.

Everything I’d spent nine months believing.

Someone had built a story for me.

And I’d walked straight into it.

Then my phone buzzed.

An unknown number.

One photograph appeared on the screen.

It was a picture of me standing in my office.

Taken from inside the room.

The timestamp was two minutes ago.

Underneath it were four words:

NOW YOU KNOW TOO MUCH.