Pretty Little Wife

by Darby Kane

  “Forgotten.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  TOBIAS WAS RIGHT. LILA DIDN’T FLINCH. GINNY REALIZED THAT as she watched Lila play with the glass in front of her. They’d put her in a room and left her alone, and she sat there, one leg crossed over the other, swinging back and forth in the air.

  Ginny said they would wait for Tobias to arrive, but Lila said to go ahead and he could join them. An interesting choice, but Ginny didn’t question her luck.

  Minutes ticked by, and Ginny waited on Pete’s report. She’d expected it an hour ago, and still nothing. But she needed Lila here. Out of the way, with or without Tobias.

  When Ginny reentered the room, she took her sweet time sitting down and pretending to read through her file. She knew the contents by heart, but this wasn’t about preparation.

  After a few seconds she glanced up to find Lila staring at her. “Is there anything you want to say to me?”

  Lila lifted the glass. “The water tastes funny.”

  Smooth as always. Not a hint of worry in her voice. No panic. Also, no sign of concern about her missing husband.

  There was a game to play here, one that would make her life easier and dim the spotlight glaring on her, but Lila refused to join in. Her personality telegraphed a level of disconnectedness that Ginny hadn’t seen before. She’d handled sociopaths. Dealt with people with a host of issues, toxicity, and illness. Lila didn’t fit neatly into any box. She wore the emptiness inside her like a badge of honor.

  Finding a road in proved almost impossible. Ginny had tried flipping the questions and throwing her off, and none of it worked.

  She aimed for the one potential weakness in the shell Lila had created. “We’re conducting a search of Ryan’s house right now. I’m guessing something there will point to you and provide more than a hint of a relationship.”

  Lila held the unblinking stare. “Okay.”

  With anyone else, Ginny would view that answer one way. With Lila, Ginny had to ask. “Okay, what?”

  Lila pushed the glass away from her. “Ryan and I have been sleeping together for months. We meet at out-of-the-way places, usually a few times a month.”

  An admission. Within seconds, Lila shifted from her usual nondenial denials to spilling the truth. Ginny’s brain lagged behind the conversation then caught up in a whoosh. “You’re in a relationship.”

  “We have sex.”

  Of course she’d make that distinction. “I’m guessing you see those as two different things.”

  Lila smiled. “They are.”

  “It feels like we’re playing verbal gymnastics.” Again . . . still . . . for every second since they’d met. They continued the dance they’d done from day one.

  Lila sighed and shifted in her chair as if settling in for a long talk. “When I first started out in criminal defense, I worked for a small firm. When you do that, you sometimes get stuck taking on cases outside of your area of expertise.”

  Stalling. A new tactic, but still a tactic. “This has something to do with Ryan?”

  “I ended up handling some divorce cases. Horrible work. People fighting over their kids like they’re curtains. It’s soul-sucking.”

  Ginny played along. “I’ve heard.”

  “One of the things I learned, mostly from another attorney in the office, but I found it to be true, is that people marry for different reasons. It sounds simple, but it’s subtle.”

  “Explain it to me.”

  “Some marry for money. A lot of times those of us looking from the outside see it and call the wife arm candy or some other derogatory term. But, reality is, many times it’s a mutual understanding between the parties.”

  More disconnection from any emotion or empathy. “The couple.”

  “They’re parties to a transaction. Whether people marry for stability or money, to escape or for children, it’s a deal made between the parties in that marriage. A deal only they know the terms to.”

  The conversation circled and swooped. Ginny got sucked in, fascinated even though she fought it. “You’re using the word ‘transaction.’”

  “Because marriage is exactly that.” Lila’s foot fell to the floor, and she leaned forward, balancing her elbows on the table between them. “Absent abuse or addiction, the transaction terms are violated when one of the parties wants a new or different deal. The trophy wife gets older and doesn’t want to sit and collect jewelry.”

  “You mean when she doesn’t want to be a trophy anymore.” Made sense. It could also explain Lila’s ambivalence about her marriage from the start. She looked like a trophy wife, but nothing else about her fit the role.

  “Exactly. She has a kid, gains a few pounds, and her priorities change. His don’t, and he wants out so he can find new arm candy.”

  The back-and-forth cut off, and the reality of all she said caught up in Ginny’s head. “That’s not very romantic.”

  “Romance as a necessary piece of the marriage contract is a relatively modern idea.”

  They’d spun and talked and not gone anywhere. “You sound like a textbook. And I’m still not seeing what this has to do with Ryan.”

  “Aaron and I married for security and comfort.”

  Those were not the reasons Ginny would have picked. She wondered if Lila and Aaron had different reasons for marrying that maybe even Lila didn’t understand.

  “We came from strained backgrounds and wanted companionship that was uncomplicated.”

  Every word chipped away at what little motive existed in the case, which Ginny assumed was the point. “Are you saying you and Aaron don’t have a romantic relationship? Like, no physical contact?”

  “We have sex.” Lila’s voice vibrated with a lack of emotion. So hollow and void of life. “But I wouldn’t leave Aaron for another man.”

  Ginny wasn’t sure how to assess that comment. “That’s your view, but Ryan may have been a threat to Aaron. He could have seen Ryan that way, even unexpectedly.”

  Lila’s eyes narrowed, but the amusement never left her tone. “Does Ryan strike you as a threat?”

  “Most people would panic at the idea of having their affair uncovered.” That came straight from the playbook relating to usual cases. Problem was, there was nothing usual about this case or the woman in front of her.

  Lila shook her head. “Not me.”

  “Then why not be honest with me and disclose the affair from the beginning?”

  “Because there’s a target on my back, and I’m not stupid enough to make it bigger.”

  A knock at the door interrupted Ginny’s response. Pete stuck his head inside and gestured for her to come into the hall.

  “That took forever,” she said. The energy pounding off Pete wiped away her frustration at his bad timing. “What is it?” She kept talking, too invested to let him answer. “You found something.”

  “The boxes are coming in now, but I thought you’d want to see this.” He handed her a thick file.

  “What is it?”

  Pete smiled. “Page through it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  LILA DRUMMED HER FINGERS ON THE CONFERENCE TABLE. She’d been stuck in this room for over an hour. Ginny had called and asked her to come in. The curiosity proved too hard to resist, but boredom gave way to anxiety. Being here when she wanted to be somewhere else started a churning deep inside her. The shadow of doubt moved over her, darkening inch by inch.

  Her choices raced in her head. She could get up. She hadn’t been arrested. They had no cause to keep her there, and Tobias was going to kill her for talking without him. But Ryan and the search warrant. That combination kept her in her seat.

  What felt like hours later, the door opened and Ginny came in with a new folder in her hands, this one thicker and tucked under her arm like a precious gift.

  Lila tried to ignore Ginny’s lighter walk. The cloud of tension that usually flowed around her had lessened. That could not be good. “Did he find my clothing at Ryan’s house? I rarely slept the
re, but I remember leaving a—”

  Ginny cut off the conversation by dropping the file on the table with a smack. She pushed it over in front of Lila.

  Tobias picked that moment to breeze in. He was out of breath but managed to come off as cool and fine with the idea of his client blabbing to law enforcement without him. He flashed Ginny a smile then glared at Lila.

  She felt his displeasure to her toes. She didn’t blame him. She’d kill a client if they did this to her.

  “Where are we?” he asked as he sat down next to her.

  Lila was too busy staring at the file. Her hand hovered over it, but her fingers refused to close around the edges. “What’s this?”

  “Ryan’s file.” Ginny pulled out the chair and sat down again. “On you.”

  On her. “What?”

  Her life. Her.

  Lila’s mind shot to the rows and rows of books lining the shelves in Ryan’s office. The ones about poisons and manners of death. Actual cases. Some would have her fingerprints because she’d used those volumes as her personal library, picking out the pieces to help her plan.

  The file in front of her didn’t look familiar.

  Tobias pulled it closer to him. “You’re saying this is a diary?”

  That sounded wrong to Lila. “He hardly seems the type.”

  “It’s research.”

  The lightness in Ginny’s voice had Lila on edge. Her gaze bounced down to the unidentifiable cover then back to Ginny. “I don’t understand.”

  “I think you do.” Ginny looked at the file again. “It’s background on your parents. Notes about your upbringing once you went to live with other relatives.”

  The shaking started in Lila’s hands. The jangling of her watch as it hit against the table. She clamped her fingers together and moved them to her lap.

  Tobias covered her hands with his. “Did he say why he had all of this intel?”

  “It looks like he’s writing a book. About Lila and her family. One that focuses on her dad and all that happened years ago.” Ginny’s gaze moved over Lila’s face. Whatever she saw there had her eyebrow lifting. “You didn’t know?”

  “You’re assuming,” Tobias said.

  “Educated guess, but you can see that it’s the most obvious explanation for collecting that sizeable stack. Taking those notes about Lila’s behavior and the things she said.”

  At Ginny’s urging, Tobias opened the cover and paged through. His frown deepened with each sheet he turned.

  The life drained out of Lila. She forced her body to still, redirecting her energy to lifting her hands. She pretended to look over Tobias’s arm at the file. “I didn’t know.”

  She lost sensation in her fingers. Papers passed by her in a blur.

  Tobias glanced at her. “He has information in here on Aaron and your life now.”

  “It looks like he was following you, talking to people about you, when you weren’t around.”

  The steady drum of Ginny’s voice echoed in Lila’s head. The words bounced off her, refusing to process. “I can read.”

  Ginny reached over, paging through the pile and pulling one sheet out. “There’s even a diagnosis in there for you, though that might not be the right word since he isn’t that sort of doctor.”

  “Let’s not—”

  Lila pulled the page closer, cutting off Tobias’s argument. The note jumped out at her. PTSD. Anxiety disorder. Possible attachment disorder and dissociative state.

  The meetings. The meals. The laughter. Time with him let her step outside her life and experience a taste of normality. A peek into how others lived.

  Memories tumbled through her. The park. His office. That hotel in Syracuse. None of it was real. He’d used her. Lied to her. One more man who’d disappointed her.

  A scream rumbled up inside her. It pushed against her chest and battered her throat. Every muscle ached and strained to keep it in.

  “You were work to him, Lila,” Ginny said.

  Yeah, she got it. He viewed her as a case study. As a way to make money and prove whatever point he intended to make in a new book. It was all about tenure. His work. His research. Money or fame.

  The message blared in Lila’s head: he viewed her as some sort of crime statistic.

  She’d never played the role of girlfriend and never wanted a boyfriend. They didn’t share a great love. She didn’t even know what that meant, but they’d been clear their relationship operated on a different level. But she expected respect. She believed in comfort, in bed and out. Wanting and desire, listening and caring on a fundamental level of at least human decency.

  It had all been a lie.

  She talked over and around the unexpected body blow, refusing to let Ginny see any reaction. “And? I’m assuming you have some grand point in showing this to me.”

  “If he was watching you so closely with the idea of writing about you, making money off your life, I wonder what else he knows.”

  A headache thumped through Lila. She tried to find the right answer through the thoughts and worries swimming around in her brain. “I don’t know where Aaron is.”

  Ginny smiled for the first time that afternoon. “But maybe Ryan does.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  THE SCREAMING IN LILA’S HEAD WOULDN’T STOP. SHE COULD hear Ginny’s taunting voice and see the panic in Tobias’s face when she told him about Ryan’s research. After the meeting, Tobias gave her a long lecture about talking to Ginny alone then stayed at the sheriff’s office, trying to get some information about what else they’d pulled out of Ryan’s house.

  She wanted to march over and burn Ryan’s office down. She called and used their emergency signal, but he didn’t call back. Not that she could stay rational and focused if he did pick up.

  Seeing the old newspaper clippings about her father and Amelia in that damn folder had set her off. He even had a copy of her name change paperwork, which was supposed to be sealed. He’d likely sweet-talked some clerk into giving it to him. She’d told him about how she could no longer be connected to her old name and old life but never suspected he would go hunting.

  She’d told him so much. About the way her moods swung from furious to hollow after the policewoman told her about her mom. About the sucking pain that doubled her over when she realized that her mother would rather be dead than be her mom.

  She thought they were sharing and she could trust him. They connected for sex, but she could talk to him. He listened. He didn’t understand surviving dysfunction the way Aaron did because he hadn’t lived through it, but Ryan didn’t judge. He asked open-ended questions and let her talk.

  Now she knew why.

  The longer she stood in the middle of her family room, the louder the voices in her head became. A riot of shouting and banging. The worst parts of her life ran in fast-forward through her mind. Her father’s voice. Aaron’s sick laugh on the video. The way Ryan reassured her as he smiled at her across the coffee shop table.

  Men using her. Lying to her. Screwing her. Desperate to break her.

  Shutting her eyes and covering her ears didn’t stop the fever pitch. The room spun, and rage crashed over her. It slithered up her body and danced in her throat. Darkened every inch of her until that scream trapped inside her clawed and fought to get out.

  Unable to choke the fury back for one more second, she reached for the vase on the end of the mantel. Grabbed it with both hands and smashed it as hard as she could against the stone of the fireplace. Let out a pain-soaked yowl.

  Her screeching echoed through the quiet house.

  The satisfying crack rang in her ears.

  Blue glass shattered, sending shards over the hardwood floor and bouncing under the couch and into the fireplace. Pieces pricked at her legs, and she felt a slashing low on her cheek.

  She blinked, trying to focus. Forced her breath to slow and her body to keep from crumpling on a heap on the floor. When she did, she saw the fallout from the shower of glass. Pieces stuck everywhere. Some
crunching under her feet.

  Her body suddenly weighed too much. It was difficult to keep her eyes open and keep her head from bobbing. With careful steps, she walked over to the kitchen and out of the middle of the debris field. The glass crackled as she tried to maneuver around the worst of the mess and make it to that bar stool across the room.

  A few minutes later, she sat at her kitchen counter recovering from the aftermath. To cut through the thoughts cramming her head, she flicked the switch and let someone else talk.

  This is Nia Simms and Gone Missing, the true crime podcast that discusses cases—big and small—in your neighborhood and around the country.

  After days glued to this stupid podcast, she heard that opening in her dreams. She’d roll over and Nia’s deep voice would call to her. The line between real and nightmare shifted and blurred.

  Today is our weekly call-in show. Let’s talk about the investigations and the three missing women. And since we’re talking about mysteries and missing neighbors, let me know if you have any thoughts about Aaron Payne. Are the disappearances in our area tied? Should the task force be reviewing all of these cases together? What do we need to know to bring these people home?

  Even on this podcast where Nia worked so hard to keep the names in the news, three women missing, and Aaron’s name was the one in the spotlight. He sucked up all the energy in the room, and he wasn’t even there.

  Nia did the initial hard work. She pushed the theory of the connection among the three. She forced the issue, kept them in the news and the public’s mind, after they’d become voiceless, hardly mentioned. But now she and the people who called in broke into a frothing frenzy talking about the men who might have perpetrated the violence. Their interest turned into something feral and disconnected from the women as people. Ignoring the loss to those families.

  Karen Blue. Julie Levin. Yara James.

  Lila vowed to remember their names.

  The theories droned on. She listened as the calls morphed into one big guessing game. Anyone talking about Aaron talked about her. They made assumptions. Made her out to be some pathetic loner who was happy some man had paid attention to her and who had killed her husband to keep the other man’s interest. All bullshit and maddening.