Chapter 9 - THE PRICE OF A HUSBANDAnton Soren looked nothing like evil.
For about fifteen minutes, I did.
It was easier than being afraid.
“You should have told me.”
We stood in the hotel library while Detective Monroe coordinated with her unit in the adjoining room.
“Told you what?”
“That I might have made an enemy because I helped you.”
“I didn’t know.”
“But you knew Soren’s family.”
“Yes.”
“You knew they were dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“And you disappeared from my life after giving me a phone number.”
“To keep them from connecting you to me.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“That was why I never contacted you.”
My anger stumbled.
Luca continued.
“The diner had cameras. I had the footage removed before anyone could identify you.”
“You stole security footage?”
“I paid the owner for the recorder.”
“That is not better.”
“He seemed pleased.”
“Luca.”
“I’m sorry.”
He looked tired.
Older than he had two days earlier.
“I believed no one knew you helped me.”
“And Soren?”
“I thought Anton believed I escaped through the alley.”
“Apparently not.”
“No.”
I sank into a chair.
“So when Evan borrowed money…”
“Soren may have researched him.”
“And discovered me.”
“Possibly.”
“Then encouraged the insurance policies?”
“We need proof.”
I hated those words.
Proof.
Everything horrible required proof.
Pain wasn’t enough.
Fear wasn’t enough.
Truth wasn’t enough until it could survive a courtroom.
Detective Monroe entered.
“We got something.”
I stood.
“A location?”
“No. Better.”
She placed several printed pages on the desk.
“Evan’s encrypted messages were recovered from a cloud backup.”
“With Soren?”
“With someone saved as AS.”
Luca leaned closer.
The messages went back nine months.
At first they were about debt.
Extensions.
Payments.
Interest.
Then, six months ago:
AS: Your wife’s maiden name is Bennett?
EVAN: Yes. Why?
Later:
AS: Claire Bennett worked near Bellevue in 2017?
My stomach turned.
Then:
EVAN: What does this have to do with my loan?
AS: Maybe everything.
The later messages were worse.
Soren had suggested Evan take out “proper protection” on his wife.
Evan asked how much.
Soren referred him to a broker.
Then, three months ago:
EVAN: If something happens, how fast does insurance pay?
My vision blurred.
Two months ago:
AS: Depends how convincing the accident is.
And Evan replied:
EVAN: I can make it convincing.
I stopped reading.
“That’s enough.”
Monroe nodded.
“There’s more.”
“I said enough.”
Luca immediately slid the papers away.
I walked to the window.
My husband had not been manipulated into considering my murder.
He had volunteered.
That mattered.
Even now, part of me had been searching for an excuse.
Soren pressured him.
The debt frightened him.
He was desperate.
No.
Evan had typed the words.
I can make it convincing.
Detective Monroe’s voice softened.
“We have probable cause for additional charges.”
“Conspiracy?”
“We’re working with federal authorities now. Soren’s involvement crosses multiple investigations.”
“Where is Evan?”
“We believe he’s still in New York.”
“What about Soren?”
“His attorney says he’s in Switzerland.”
Luca laughed without humor.
“He isn’t.”
Monroe looked at him.
“You know that?”
“I know Soren. He wouldn’t watch this from another continent.”
“Then where?”
“If I knew, I’d tell you.”
“Would you?”
“Yes.”
She studied him.
“I’m going to pretend I believe that.”
A federal task force became involved that afternoon.
Suddenly my life filled with acronyms and people wearing practical shoes.
FBI.
Financial crimes.
Organized crime.
Insurance fraud.
My marriage had turned into a conference room.
An agent named Daniel Price interviewed me for three hours.
Then he interviewed Luca separately.
When Luca returned, he looked annoyed.
“They ask repetitive questions.”
“They think you’re a criminal.”
“Allegedly.”
“You really enjoy that word.”
“It has carried me through adulthood.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
Agent Price entered behind him.
“He’s also irritating.”
“I’ve heard.”
Price sat.
“We have a plan.”
I stopped smiling.
“Evan contacted you again.”
My phone had received three messages during the interviews.
I can give you Soren.
He’ll kill both of us.
Meet me and I’ll explain.
“What plan?”
“We let him believe you’ll meet.”
Luca immediately said, “No.”
Price ignored him.
“You will not actually be exposed.”
“What does that mean?”
“We select a controlled location. Surveillance. Tactical teams. You wear a wire. The moment Mercer arrives, we take him.”
“And if Soren comes?”
“That would be helpful.”
Luca stared at Price.
“You’re using her as bait.”
“I’m giving Mrs. Mercer the option.”
“Absolutely not.”
I turned to Luca.
“Stop.”
He did.
Agent Price looked at me.
“You can say no.”
I thought about Natalie.
The damaged life jacket.
The hidden cameras.
The urn on my kitchen counter.
Then I thought about the woman I had been three nights ago.
Hiding in a bathroom.
Whispering into an old phone number because I believed rescue had to come from someone else.
“What happens if I say yes?”
“We control every variable we can.”
“Not every variable.”
“No.”
“Will it help you arrest Soren?”
“Potentially.”
“And Evan?”
“Almost certainly.”
Luca’s expression was thunderous.
I ignored it.
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“A closed restaurant in Brooklyn.”
I laughed once.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“Nine years ago this started in a restaurant.”
Price nodded.
“Then maybe that’s where it ends.”
Luca followed me into the hallway afterward.
“You don’t have to prove anything.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t do this.”
“I’m tired of being afraid.”
“Being afraid doesn’t make you weak.”
“I know that too.”
“Claire.”
I faced him.
“You came through my door eight minutes after I called.”
“Yes.”
“You kept your promise.”
“Yes.”
“Now let me make one to myself.”
“What promise?”
“That I will never again organize my life around Evan’s temper.”
Luca stared at me.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“I hate it.”
“I noticed.”
“I’ll cooperate with the FBI.”
Agent Price, overhearing from the doorway, said, “That may be the most threatening sentence anyone has said to me today.”
Luca looked over.
“You’re welcome.”
The meeting was scheduled for 9 p.m.
At 8:52 the next night, I sat alone at a table inside a darkened Brooklyn restaurant wearing a microphone beneath my blouse.
Agents watched from hidden positions.
Evan had told me to come alone.
I had.
Technically.
At exactly nine, the side door opened.
A man entered.
My breath stopped.
It wasn’t Evan.
He wore a charcoal suit.
Gray hair.
Thin smile.
Luca’s voice came through the tiny receiver in my ear from the surveillance room.
“Claire, get out.”
The man walked toward me.
Agent Price whispered, “Stay calm.”
Luca said again, sharper, “That’s Soren.”
Anton Soren sat across from me.
He smiled.
“Mrs. Mercer.”
Every instinct screamed at me to run.
Instead I stayed seated.
“Where is my husband?”
Soren folded his hands.
“That depends.”
May you like
“On what?”
“Whether you still want him alive.”
