No One Knows Part 27

It was Thursday. Chase was coming today, and the money that would change her life would be coming tomorrow.

She had a flash of Daisy lying incapacitated, and realized there would be no legal battle for the cash anytime soon. If Aubrey wanted the money, she could take it. Disappear forever. Five million dollars was a lot of money for a girl like her. Think of the life you could lead.

She shook off the voice. That voice had always created issues for her. Real and imagined.

Meghan shook her head. "I don't think you want to come. It's going to be technical, no fun at all. How about I meet you later?"

Aubrey bristled at Meghan's tone. "You don't want me there?"

Meghan raised her hands, palms first. "Hey, chill. I'll be honest with you. I don't know what he's going to say, and I didn't know if you wanted to put yourself through that night again."

"Sorry, Meghan. I'm just on edge is all."

"I understand."

"But I want to be there. I checked out of this so long ago. It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair to Josh. If I can help discover what happened to him, maybe I can start moving on."

Meghan pushed her hair out of her eyes. "Fine, you can come. Leave the car here, we can walk. We're meeting for coffee at the Hermitage Hotel."

"Nice. Hope he's picking up the check."

"Yeah, me, too."

"Let me call Tom, give him an update on what we've found."

Tom didn't answer, though Aubrey wasn't surprised. The ICU was very strict about where phones could be turned on. She left him a message, and they set off in silence.

Aubrey hated thinking about the night Josh went missing, but it was more important than ever that she focus on every little detail. Like Tyler's revelation. Maybe there was even more that she'd missed. Anything could be the key.

The key to what, Aubrey? The voice again, that chatty little devil who loved to sit on her shoulder and throw spears at her. Clearing your husband's besmirched name? Resurrecting him for the masses? Or are you doing all this for yourself?

Yes, she wanted to go along. She was so close now. So close to finding out the truth.

It took five minutes to make the walk, mostly uphill, and Aubrey's legs felt the pleasant burn of exertion. She needed a run, something to clear her head, to help her focus. Running had become a crutch for her, but more than that, it was her sanity.

The doorman greeted them with a smile, and Aubrey realized how they were dressed: she in jeans and a T-shirt, Meghan like a punk rockabilly singer. All in all, they'd probably assume Meghan was the talent and simple, austere Aubrey the assistant. Which suited her just fine. She was used to Meghan drawing all the attention.

Meghan must have realized it, too, because she put a little extra swing in her hips and added a lascivious wink as they entered the lobby. Always on, that was Meghan for you.

The Oak Bar was downstairs, to the right of the Capitol Grille, nestled in the corner of the hotel, and Meghan led the way. The place was legendary, dark and paneled and quiet, breathing out an air of mystery and charm. Just to be in the Oak Bar was a statement of belonging: to the city, to money, to class.

Aubrey had only been there once.

Josh had taken her for their first wedding anniversary. They'd sat in the corner, eating double-stack cheeseburgers and drinking peaty Scotch until they were legless. It was, as Aubrey recalled, an absolutely perfect evening.

Of course, all evenings with Josh were perfect.

That picture.

The idea of him enjoying someone else's attentions made her grit her teeth. She realized she was standing still, staring into the room as if she knew she didn't belong. Meghan was already taking a seat at a table on the far side of the bar, back in the alcove, where they couldn't be readily seen from the bar's entrance. Aubrey breathed a sigh a relief; for a moment she'd thought Meghan was going to sit at the table she and Josh had shared seven years ago. She couldn't have handled that. She could barely manage the memories she had.

Meghan was watching her curiously. Aubrey smiled and started toward the table, noticed Meghan's attention shift to somewhere behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a man coming up fast. She stopped, thinking to turn and introduce herself, but he came flying by and made a beeline for Meghan.

Meghan stood and said, "Daniel Cutter? I'd like to introduce you to Aubrey Hamilton."

Cutter stopped short and turned. She could have sworn he looked shocked to see her, but he quickly composed himself and started back her way, hand outstretched.

"Mrs. Hamilton. It is such a pleasure to officially meet you. Let's sit down, and I'll tell you what I know, okay?"

Aubrey crossed her arms and sat. Meghan and Cutter ordered food, but she settled for tea; she didn't think she could handle anything more.

Once the waitress had disappeared, Meghan leaned forward. There was an edge to her voice that Aubrey didn't recognize. "So, Daniel. What have you found out?"

Aubrey put up her hand. "Can I ask a question before you start?"

Cutter was a stocky guy with a sure jaw and penetrating blue eyes. He turned them on Aubrey. "Of course."

"Was my husband involved in a drug ring?"

Cutter didn't move. "How did you come to that conclusion, Mrs. Hamilton?"

Aubrey shook her head. "I was told my husband might have been involved with some less than savory people, from a friend of mine who overheard a jailhouse rumor."

"Would you mind telling me what you were told?"

"Would you mind telling me if my husband was killed because of a man named Derek Allen?"

Boundaries established, he sat back in his chair. "Your husband was a very interesting man, Mrs. Hamilton."

Aubrey shook her head. "What does that have to do with Derek Allen?"

"Well, everything and nothing. You see, your husband vanished the same night Mr. Allen was found in an alley in downtown Nashville with a hole in his stomach."

Aubrey looked over at Meghan, whose mouth was open in a small O.

Aubrey was tired of playing games. "Mr. Cutter. Either tell me what the hell Derek Allen is doing and what his tie is to my husband, or I'm leaving."

He held up his hands. "Sorry. I needed to know if you were up to hearing all of this. Derek Allen was a drug dealer. And, as you already suspect, your husband worked for him."

Aubrey shook her head. "Impossible."

"It's very possible. It's true, as a matter of fact."

"And you knew this how?"

"Let's just say I had an interest in Allen's business and leave it at that." He tapped the side of his nose. Aubrey felt Meghan's body grow very still.

Cutter shrugged. "I'm clean now, Meghan. I've been in treatment. I'm working the program, like you always wanted."

Aubrey grabbed Meghan's hand under the table, tried to send her a silent I don't care, it doesn't reflect badly on you.

Meghan squeezed her hand back and unfroze. "If Josh Hamilton was working for a drug dealer, why wouldn't this have come up years ago? During the investigation, or the trial?"

"Because Derek Allen is very good at keeping his silent partners silent."

"Did he kill my husband?" Aubrey asked.

"I don't know."

Aubrey shook her head. "I'm having a hard time believing your story. It's rather fantastical. Josh was a doctor."

"Where did he tell you he went all those nights?"

"He had a second job. At the morgue."

Cutter gave her an opaque look. "Which he was using as the delivery service."

Aubrey was trying to wrap her head around that tidbit when he suddenly leaned forward. "Have you considered that your husband might still be alive?"

He's alive.

Aubrey tried to keep the emotion from her face. She glanced at Meghan, sucked in her breath, and scooted back in her chair. "I think Derek Allen is trying to make me believe that he is."

She let her voice waver, tears threatening. "I'm sorry. Please, would you excuse me?"

She stood and practically ran to the ladies' room, bypassing the world-famous men's room, a black-and-green art deco masterpiece. Josh had taken her in there the night they'd come for their anniversary, made a big show of announcing a lady was present, all of it. She didn't think it was as beautiful as some did, preferred the quiet serenity of the women's modern nude space next door.

She slammed the door behind her and locked it. Son of a bitch.

She splashed water on her face. Pull it together, Aubrey. You know he's dead. You know it. The insurance payout comes tomorrow. Derek Allen is just sniffing around, hoping for a cut.

Using her, using Tyler.

That thought made her very, very angry. Aubrey didn't like herself when she was angry. She punched cops and stole from her mother-in-law and landed herself in psychiatric wards.

She stared at herself in the mirror, willing the hectic red spots on her cheeks to go away. She shut her eyes and ran her hands through her hair, her fingers catching on the corkscrew curls.

Breathe, Aubrey. Breathe.

Her cell phone trilled, shattering the silence, making her jump.

She cursed and dug it from her bag.

Chase.

Oh, shit. With all that had happened, she'd totally forgotten the time.

She swallowed and answered, trying to sound normal.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself, sweetheart. I miss you."

"You, too."

"Everything okay? You sound tense."

"Ha. Wow. You can hear it, huh?"

"Yes. What's the matter?"

What's the matter? Oh, wow. How to answer that? Let's see. People are starting to find out my husband was involved with a drug lord. I think I might be in danger. I don't think I should see you again. I want to see you so badly my skin itches.

She finally found her voice.

"Daisy. Daisy had a heart attack, or something like it. She's still in surgery, they found a hole in her heart. She's not doing well. I was there all night. I'm just really tired."

Her first lie to Chase. She should mark it on the calendar.

"Where are you now?"

"Um, at the Hermitage Hotel, of all places. Having tea with Meghan."

"Why aren't you at the hospital?"

"Meghan needed me. I'm just in the bathroom for a second. Listen, I should go."

She could hear the hurt in his voice. "Oh, sure. I understand. I just wanted to let you know I'm catching an earlier flight. My meeting was cancelled this afternoon. I got a car, you won't need to pick me up." He hesitated a moment. "That is, if it's still okay with you that I'm coming. Last night, well, I know it sounded ominous."

Aubrey bit her tongue. Tears burned in her eyes. She didn't know what to do. She had to make a decision, and do it quickly.

"It's fine. Great. So I'll see you at the house?"

Relief flooded his tone. "Definitely. Four thirty. I can't wait to see you."

"Me, too, Chase. Fly safe."

She hung up the phone and slumped down into one of the chairs in front of the makeup mirrors.

Pull yourself together, Aubrey.

It was no use. Her head began to spin, and her breath came short. The walls of the room began to close in around her. The waves of anxiety plowed through her. Her rational mind said, Aubrey, you're having a panic attack. Breathe. But her nervous system was already in overdrive.

It was all too much. She couldn't handle this. Tears came, and with them, short little breaths that finally got some oxygen to her brain. It took another minute to get her breath back, then another reassembling herself, using the mouthwash to erase the taste of bile that lingered in her throat. She had to get back out there, or they'd get suspicious.

You can do this, Aubrey. You're close. You always wanted to know what happened that night. And now, you're going to find out.

With a last look in the mirror, she squared her shoulders and headed back to the bar.