The Stranger

Bob turned toward him. “Hey, Adam. Whoa, you startled me there. What’s—?”

Adam punched him hard in the mouth, knocking the big man onto the driver’s seat. Bob’s eyes went wide with shock. Adam came up to his door and stuck the gun in his face.

“Don’t move.”

Bob’s hand was on his mouth, stemming the flow of blood. Adam opened the car door behind him and slid him into the backseat. He pressed the gun against Bob’s neck.

“What the hell are you doing, Adam?”

“Tell me where my wife is.”

“What?”

Adam pushed the muzzle of the gun into the back of his neck. “Just give me a reason.”

“I don’t know where your wife is.”

“CBW Inc., Bob.”

Silence.

“You hired them, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what—”

Adam struck him in the bony part of the shoulder with the butt of the gun.

“Ow!”

“Tell me about CBW.”

“Goddamn it, that hurt. That hurt a lot.”

“CBW is your cousin Daz’s investigation firm. You hired him to dig up dirt on Cori

Bob closed his eyes and moaned.

“Didn’t you?”

Adam hit him again with the gun.

“Tell me the truth or I swear I’ll shoot you dead.”

Bob lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Adam.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I didn’t mean it. It was just . . . I needed something, you know?”

Adam pressed the gun against his neck. “Needed what?”

“Something on Cori

“Why?”

The big man went quiet.

“Why did you need something on my wife?”

“Go ahead, Adam.”

“What?”

Bob turned and faced him. “Pull the trigger. I want you to. I got nothing anymore. I can’t find work. Our house is in foreclosure. Melanie is going to leave me. Go ahead. Please. I bought a good insurance policy from Cal. The boys will be better off.”

And then the niggling started up again.

The boys . . .

Adam froze and thought about Cori

The boys . . .

“Do it, Adam. Pull the trigger.”

Adam shook his head. “Why did you hurt my wife?”

“Because she was trying to hurt me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The stolen money, Adam.”

“What about it?”

“Cori

“So you figured, what, get her before she got you?”

“I had to fight back. So I told Daz. I asked him to look into her, that’s all. He didn’t find anything. Of course not, right? Cori

“Did you steal the money, Bob?”

“No. But who’d believe me? And then Tripp confided in me what Cori

And then the niggling in Adam’s brain stopped.

The boys . . .

Adam’s throat went dry. “Tripp?”

“Yeah.”

“Tripp said Cori

“Right. He said we needed something, that’s all.”

Tripp Evans. Who had five kids. Three boys. Two girls.

The kids . . .

The boys . . .

He thought about that text one more time:

MAYBE WE NEED SOME TIME APART. YOU TAKE CARE OF THE KIDS.

Cori

She always said “the boys.”

Chapter 55

The agony in Adam’s head had grown monstrous, grotesque.

Every step sent a fresh lightning bolt through his head. The EMT had given him a few pills to hold him over. He was tempted to take them, grogginess be damned.

But he had to hold on.

Just as he had two days before, he drove past MetLife Stadium and pulled into the low-rent office space. That awful Jersey swamp smell smacked him in the face again. The snapped-together rubberized flooring squeaked under his feet. He knocked on the same ground-level office door.

And again when Tripp opened the door, he said, “Adam?”

And again Adam said, “Why did my wife call you that morning?”

“What? Jesus, you look awful. What happened?”

“Why did Cori

“I told you already.” Tripp stepped back. “Come in and sit down. Is that blood on your shirt?”

Adam entered the office. He hadn’t gotten inside before. Tripp had tried his best to keep him out. Little wonder. The office was a dump. One room. The carpet was worn. The wallpaper was peeling. The computer was dated.

Living in a town like Cedarfield cost big bucks. How had Adam not seen the truth before?

“I know, Tripp.”

“Know what?” He studied Adam’s face. “You need to see a doctor.”

“You stole the lacrosse money, not Cori

“Jesus, you got blood all over you.”

“Everything was the opposite of what you told me. You asked Cori

“Listen to me, Adam. Sit down, okay? Let’s just talk this out.”

“I keep thinking about Cori

He didn’t bother replying.

“Did you beg her for one more chance? Did you ask her to meet you so you could explain?”

“You got some imagination, Adam.”

Adam shook his head and tried to hold it together. “All that philosophizing to me about how the sweet old lady or sports board member rationalizes embezzling funds. How it begins small. Gas money, you said. A coffee at the diner.” Adam moved a step closer. “Is that how it went for you?”

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Adam swallowed and felt the tears start to come. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

Silence.

“You killed my wife.”

“You can’t really believe that.”

But Adam could feel his body start to quake from the truth. “We’re living the dream, right? Isn’t that what you always say, Tripp? How lucky we all are, how thankful we should be. You married Becky, your high school sweetheart. You have five wonderful kids. You’d do anything to protect them, wouldn’t you? What would happen to your precious dream if it got out that you’re nothing but a thief?”

Tripp Evans straightened up and pointed at the door. “Get out of my office.”

“It came down to you or Cori

Tripp’s tone was colder now. “Get out.”

“That text you sent pretending to be her. I should have seen it right away.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You killed her. And then, to buy time, you sent that text. I was supposed to read it and figure she was blowing off steam—and if I didn’t believe that, if I thought something happened to her, the police wouldn’t pay attention. They’d see the text. They’d learn we just had a giant fight. They wouldn’t even bother filling out a report. You knew all that.”

Tripp shook his head. “You got it wrong.”

“I wish I did.”

“You can’t prove this. You can’t prove any of this.”

“Prove? Maybe not. But I know.” Adam held up his cell phone. “‘You take care of the kids.’”