The investigation is dead; there is no evidence. Ramirez recognizes the cold, hard truth of that. But sometimes, after hours, he finds himself in Brooklyn Heights. Sometimes, after dark, he parks his car on a nearby street, walks to the Westcotts’ brownstone, and stands for a while in the parkette opposite, just watching.
Chapter Twenty-Six
THE FOLLOWING EVENING,Ted gets another text. The ping of it makes him startle, even though he realizes that part of him has been expecting it, waiting for it. He and Jill are in the kitchen, preparing dinner. They both hear it. They both stop what they’re doing. He reaches for his phone on the island, and she comes over to look.
The text, from the same unrecognized number, reads:YOU’RE NOT GOING TO GET AWAY WITH IT.
Ted hears the gasp come from Jill. He glances up at her, then back down at the message. ‘Fuck,’ he mutters. He wants to throw the phone against the wall but restrains himself. This is a problem. He’s not going to make it worse by losing his cool in front of his wife. So, it’s not a one-off, he thinks. This is someone who is going to try to make their lives miserable. They have to find out who it is. He must protect Jill.
‘Oh, God,’ Jill whispers, leaning back against the counter and pressing her hand to her mouth, against her closed lips. Aftera moment, she removes her hand and says, ‘Text him back, ask who it is.’
‘No. I told you I think it’s best that we don’t engage. Better to just ignore it.’
‘Then how will we know?’
Ted snorts. ‘As if he’s going to tell us.’ He pauses, thinking. ‘There must be a way to find out,’ he says to her. But he thinks he knows. It’s John Burnley. But how can he be sure? And what is he going to do about it?
‘Are you sure no one knows?’ Jill asks him, her eyes alarmed.
‘Of course I’m sure!’ He’s snapped at her; he didn’t mean to. He softens his voice. ‘Jill, there’s no way anyone can know. How could they? Whoever it is, is just trying to upset us. Youknowthat.’ He adds, ‘They’re probably just doing it for kicks. I don’t know what they hope to gain.’ He runs a hand over his face.
‘Maybe they’re hoping we have a guilty conscience,’ she says, ‘and that they’ll drive us to break down and confess.’
He looks at her closely, worried. ‘But we don’t. And we won’t.’ He takes her face gently in his hands, looks down at her. ‘Jill, you’re not developing a guilty conscience, are you?’
‘No.’ She says it firmly. ‘But Iamworried.’
He releases her, steps away. ‘You don’t need to be. I’ll deal with it.’
‘How?’
He takes a deep breath, lets it out. ‘I’ll find out who sent the texts. There must be a way. I’ll find a tech person, see if they can trace it. We won’t go to the police. We’ll find out who it is, and I’ll deal with him.’ As he says it, he imagines confronting JohnBurnley. Putting him in his place. Beating the shit out of him, if necessary. He imagines how good it will feel.
‘I’m worried about Lara,’ Jill says suddenly.
This surprises him. ‘Lara? Why?’
‘I think she suspects us.’
‘What?’
And suddenly she’s telling him in a rush, as if she’s held it in too long. She tells him what Lara has said, and how she said it. How she’s probed. As Ted listens, he feels increasingly uneasy. It’s that bastard Ramirez’s fault, stirring up suspicion with his visits, his questions, his innuendos. He’s like a fucking Iago. He says, ‘Jill, you must be careful around her.’
‘I know that!’ She folds her arms across her chest defensively. ‘I haven’t said anything to her.’
‘Of course not. You’re too smart for that.’
‘What ifshe’ssending the texts?’ Jill suggests.
The idea confounds him. ‘Why? Why would she do that?’ he asks.
‘Out of jealousy, maybe? Because of the money?’
‘But she’s your best friend. And they have plenty of money, don’t they?’
Jill regards him uneasily. ‘I don’t know. Maybe they don’t have enough. We didn’t.’
Ted enters a small storefront the next morning. He’d noticed the shop before, and the sign in the window:HARDWARE, SOFTWARE, SECURITY.There’s a man in his mid-twenties alone in the shop, at a large counter with laptops and cell phones strewn about.