Chapter 13: Keep Your Head Down

Thane's POV

On Wednesday morning Trevor Dunleavy sent me a text from a number I had never given anyone.

Lunch, Rayburn. My club, one o'clock. Let's talk like men.

Nadine had asked me to stay away from him until Friday.

I told her I would.

Then I read the auditor's one-page note again, and it said the only pool of money Trevor could still reach was the Marwick account.

If I wanted to know what he planned to do with it, the quickest way was to sit across a table and let him tell me.

I called the detective, and she said, "Keep your phone in your breast pocket and keep your hands to yourself."

I said I would do both.

His club was in Westerville, all dark wood and leather, with men in quarter-zip sweaters eating wedge salads.

Trevor sat at a corner table with two members at the next one over, close enough to hear.

He stood and held out his hand.

I did not take it.

"Sit, Thane," he said. "I ordered you the steak."

I sat.

"I'm told you have my wife's file in your car," he said, smiling for the members. "I'm told you've been very kind to her."

"I've been fair to her."

"Of course. Six years of fairness, and then one week of something else."

He cut his own steak into small, neat squares.

"Let's not waste each other's afternoon," he said, lower. "I'm a reasonable man."

"What do you want?"

"I want the audit to stay preliminary. A marital matter, a misunderstanding between spouses. You tell the board that."

"And what do I get?"

"I send Marwick a letter praising your firm. I withdraw the petition that names you, which would embarrass a man in your position."