Chapter 7: She Already Knew He Knew
Ethan changed the locks that night.
A locksmith came at eight, and by nine the front door, the back door, and the study cabinet all had new keys.
He kept one set and mailed a copy to Marcus.
He picked Maisie up from Marcus's house just after seven.
She had eaten dinner there and was drowsy in the back seat, her rabbit tucked under her arm.
Ethan watched her in the rearview mirror the whole drive home.
He had just put her to bed when Corinne rang the front doorbell.
He stood in the hallway for a moment.
Then he opened the door.
She looked at him and then at the new lock hardware, and something shifted in her expression — very small, very fast, but he caught it.
"Can I come in?" she said.
"Maisie's just gone to sleep."
"I won't be long." She didn't wait for an answer.
She stepped inside.
He closed the door and followed her to the kitchen.
She stood near the table, not sitting, her coat still on.
"You changed the locks," she said.
"I did."
"Why?"
"Security," he said.
"I should have done it sooner."
She looked at him for a long moment.
"Ethan.
Whatever you think you've found, I want you to hear my side before you do anything you can't take back."
"What do you think I've found?"
"I don't know," she said.
"But you're different today.
You were different this morning at your office." She set her bag on the counter.
"Marcus won't return my calls.
You're not answering questions directly.
And you changed the locks the same day I asked about the cabinet key." She spread her hands.
"I'm not stupid."
"I know you're not," Ethan said.
"Then talk to me."
"I'm not ready to do that yet."
Her jaw tightened.
"I love you.
I love Maisie.
Whatever you think happened, whatever someone has told you — people lie, Ethan.
People who seem trustworthy lie for their own reasons."
"Like Dana?" he said.
The name landed.
Her chin came up slightly.
"Dana called you," Corinne said.
It was not a question.
"She did."
"Dana has been jealous of me for years.
She resented everything I built.
Anything she told you—"
"She gave the police a bag," Ethan said.
"That you left at her apartment two years ago."
Corinne went very still.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said.
But her voice had changed.
The warmth was gone.
Something underneath it had surfaced, flat and careful.
"Victor Hale," Ethan said.
She said nothing.
Her hand moved to the strap of her bag.
"The police are looking for him," Ethan said.
"And the notary stamp on the trust amendment doesn't match any registered notary in the state." He watched her face.
"You changed that document without my knowledge.
You put your name on a line that would have paid out if I d*ed."
"You need to stop talking," she said quietly.
"And Eleanor's car was in the reservoir parking lot at 9:41 the night she d*ed.
Twenty minutes before the accident." His voice stayed level.
"You told Dana you'd been home all evening.
Your coat was wet.
It hadn't rained."
Corinne picked up her bag.
"I want a lawyer."
"Then call one," Ethan said.
"But you should know that Detective Callum is filing for a warrant tonight.
If you leave this house and go anywhere near Dana, near Marcus, near anyone connected to this — that will be noted."
She walked to the door.
Her hand was on the handle when she stopped.
She turned back, and for just a moment the careful arrangement of her face dropped entirely.
"She wasn't supposed to be on that road," Corinne said.
"She was supposed to be at her mother's.
That's what her calendar said." A pause.
"I want you to know that."
Ethan did not move.
May you like
"That's supposed to make it better?" he said.
Corinne opened the door and walked out into the dark.
