Lisa Gardner - Touch & Go

“Why did you keep her texts on your phone?” I asked suddenly. “You must’ve known I might see them.”

My husband’s turn to look away.

“You wanted to get caught,” I murmured, understanding finally dawning. “You wanted me to find out what you’d been doing.”

“Haven’t there been moments in the past few months when you swore to yourself you’d stop? Not take another pill? Clean up your act, live the straight and narrow?”

Slowly, I nodded.

Justin raised his head, met my eyes. “Me, too. I hated being a liar, Libby. I hated knowing I was hurting you. I don’t know… I can’t explain all of it. Maybe we all turn into our parents in the end. Or maybe, I’m just weak. But I’d meet a girl…and one thing would lead to another… And immediately afterward, I’d feel terrible. A liar, a cheat, a failure. I reached a point… I didn’t want to feel that way again. So, yes, I think some part of me wanted you to catch me. I hoped it would force me to get myself under control. I would take responsibility, you would finally forgive me and then I wouldn’t have to feel so lousy anymore.”

Justin, still gazing at me. “Do you know what my mother did when my father died?”

I shook my head.

“She took a fifth of vodka and poured it on his grave. She hated him, Libby. Absolutely, positively hated him. I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want to be the kind of guy who’s not even missed by his own wife. I never wanted to be that man.”

Justin sighed heavily. He placed his hands on my shoulders and gazed at me so seriously. So somberly. Had I ever seen him look like this? Eighteen years of memories, and yet…

“I love you, Libby. I was stupid. I screwed up. And I failed. But I love you. Whatever happens next, I want you to know that.”

My first ping of alarm. “Don’t talk like that—”

“Shhh. I need you to tell me you’re going to quit the pills. You must be already detoxing, yes?”

“Yes—”

“Then promise me when you get home, you’ll continue. You’ll take care of yourself. You’ll be there for Ashlyn. You’re right. Our daughter needs us.”

My second ping of alarm. He sounded like a man who’d already made a decision. A man who was now simply preparing himself for the consequences. “ Us, Justin,” I countered sharply. “As in, we’re all going home tomorrow. No doing anything rash. We need you, Justin. We need you.”

My husband, still eyeing me intently. “Are you going to quit?”

Myself, still thinking of oranges, the taste of my pain. “Yes.”

He pulled me into his arms. “Good girl,” he whispered against the top of my hair. “Don’t worry about the rest. No matter what, tomorrow, you and Ashlyn will be safe. I promise you, Libby. I swear it on my life.”

Chapter 35

THEY BROUGHT ANITA BENNETT in for questioning at 10:15 P.M. They did it properly, two dark-clad FBI agents appearing on her doorstep and requesting her presence at the FBI field office. It was difficult to say no to FBI agents and finally, shaking and uncertain, Anita had acquiesced, kissing her husband lightly on the cheek, telling him it was nothing, she’d be home shortly.

The investigative team was already waiting in the Boston field office. Special Agent Adams, Special Agent Hawkes, then Tessa and Wyatt. They were seated in the viewing room, another trick of the trade—forcing the suspect to confront a new set of interrogators, which would add to her confusion.

The FBI had a dedicated fraud squad, a whole team of financial wizards who lived and breathed corporate embezzlement, money laundering, white-collar crime. It had been Special Agent Adams’s idea to let them take the lead—they could ask more specific questions concerning Denbe Construction’s P and L. Also, if they could keep Anita on the defensive, switching up focus while retelling parts of her story to a fresh set of investigators, they increased the odds of her tripping up, muddling a minor detail that might open major floodgates to what really happened to Justin and his family.

One thing they all agreed on: Time was ticking.

Ransom exchange was now a mere seventeen hours away. The life insurance company had agreed to play ball, but the overall mood remained skeptical. The terms of the exchange were too broad, with not enough safeguards for the Denbe family in place.

And now, given this whole embezzlement angle… Wyatt had already expressed what most of them feared: The kidnapping was not a kidnapping case at all. Ransom was merely a smokescreen to cover the real motive: Anita Bennett had been stealing from Denbe Construction for the past two decades. Justin had finally caught wind of the scam, perhaps even confided in his wife, Libby. Meaning he and his family now had to disappear. Their untimely demise might invite undue attention from the police. Hence a kidnapping for ransom. How many times had Anita herself tried to say Justin’s disappearance might have nothing to do with the firm, that he was a target simply because he was wealthy?

And of course, in kidnapping-for-ransom cases, exchanges didn’t always go as planned. Sometimes, wealthy victims even wound up dead. Say, Justin, Libby and Ashlyn Denbe. Tragically killed, 3:00 P.M. tomorrow, during a botched rescue attempt.

The firm would soldier valiantly on, Anita Bennett now securely ensconced as CEO, where her first major decision would be to fire Ruth Chan. Then, the firm would be all hers, as well as her eleven-million-dollar secret.

A lot of motive for murder. Certainly, entire families had been killed for less.

Anita Bennett was escorted to the interview room. The two agents, Bill Bixby and Mark Levesco, produced paperwork. Anita agreed to be interviewed on camera. She’d been informed of her rights, understood anything she said could and would be used against her in a court of law. She could end the interview anytime and maintained the right to call an attorney. Anita signed the form. They were off and running.

Bill was an older agent, Mark his younger counterpart in a pink-and-gray Brooks Brothers tie. Bill took the lead, striking a collegial tone. Sorry to interrupt Anita’s evening. Thanks so much for her cooperation. Surely she understood time was of the essence and they were all working diligently toward the safe return of Justin, Libby and Ashlyn Denbe.

Anita nodded. She’d changed out of her church clothes from the morning for a somber pair of gray knit slacks and a blush-colored turtleneck. She looked older to Tessa, as if the day had already worn her down. She also appeared wary, her face clearly guarded as she accepted Bill’s statements but didn’t immediately gush information.

The FBI had had only six hours to prepare for this moment, but they’d done their homework well. The second Tessa and Wyatt had called Nicole Adams with news from their interview with Ruth Chan, the CFO had been whisked off to the Boston field office, where she’d spent the next few hours ensconced with the financial agents, going over the books and explaining what she’d found. Additional agents had immediately pulled Anita Bennett’s records, compiling lists of bank assets, major purchases and, of course, trips to the Bahamas. They were still only at the tip of the iceberg, according to Special Agent Adams, but given the time pressure, they decided it was better to ambush the COO sooner versus later.

They weren’t as interested in a confession of corporate embezzlement as they were an admission of a physical address for the safe return of the Denbe family.

And they still had a few tricks up their sleeves.

Anita’s initial responses were pretty much as Tessa had anticipated. Collegial cop, Bill, wrapped up his spiel, and young guy, Mark, started to smack down financial reports. What did Anita know of this transaction? Was she aware of this vendor? Had she heard of this company? Where was she on June 12, 2009? What about this project, what about this new automobile, what about this transaction, had she really visited the Bahamas twice in 2012, on and on.