Chapter 10: Vaughn's POV

Vaughn's POV

Dillon Lowry stood in front of my wife and could not say one sentence.

I watched it from the car door with my keys in my hand.

His throat worked. His lips moved on a word and stopped.

Gillian waited a full minute.

Then she said, quietly, "Go home, Dillon," and walked past him into my building.

She did not look back.

She had learned that from me, and I wished she hadn't.

I stayed on the pavement.

"Stroud," Dillon said. His voice was ragged. "Don't dig."

"Why not?"

"Because it won't help her. It'll only hurt her. And it'll hurt my mother."

"Your mother tried to buy my wife for two hundred thousand dollars."

"She's frightened."

"Of what?"

He shook his head.

"I would rather lose her than say it," Dillon said. "That's the truth. I would rather lose her."

"You already have."

He went white.

He nodded, once, and walked off down the street with his shoulders hunched.

I did not call after him.

At eleven that night, when Gillian was asleep, I sat at my own kitchen counter and called my head of security.

She picked up on the first ring. She always did.

"I need a date pulled," I said. "October eleventh, eleven years ago. A crash, probably. A couple named Danvers. Lake Shore Road."

"Do you want the paper?"

"I want the court record."

"It might not be public."

"Then find me who made sure it wasn't."

I hung up and stared at the dark window.

Gillian was in the next room with her hair across my pillow and a drawer in her flat she had never opened.

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