“I’m worried that he won’t help even if I do tell him.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t. He’s surprisingly protective of the people he cares about.”
“You know our marriage isn’t like that.”
“Isn’t it? I see how he looks at you. He cares about you more than you think. Don’t let his colorful reputation put you off.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I say, almost in reflex, but I’m not really sure if she understands what I’m going through. No matter how hard I exercise my imagination, I can’t picture the man who wouldn’t believe every word out of her mouth and wouldn’t throw down his life for Elizabeth. She just naturally arouses a protective instinct in people.
“I’ll call when I come up with something. And I’m sorry you had such an unpleasant experience at my event.”
“Elizabeth, please don’t misunderstand. I’m not accusing you of anything.”
“I know. But I should’ve been more…selective.”
We end the call. Staring at the concrete wall on the other side of the windshield, I wonder if I’m paying the price for being less than cautious and deliberate with my decisions since my parents’ deaths. Right now it feels like everything that’s happening is for a reason—my past.
Chapter Sixteen
Elliot
It doesn’t take me more than four quick laps to come up with a way to disgrace and humiliate Annabelle Underhill and get her to stay the fuck away from me and mine. It is so simple that it’s almost laughable. I just need a little time and a few items to pull things together.
After a quick shower, I go to my office and call the front desk to speak to the supervisor of secu
rity at my building. The man is quite accommodating when I explain the situation.
Why, of course you can have the footage. Of course we’ll be more than happy to email it to you. Terribly sorry that you’re dealing with a stalker. Would you like us to blacklist her, should she try to harass you and your wife again?
I’m nothing if not gracious in the face of such cooperation. I thank the man, telling him I would love it if they would ensure Annabelle Underhill never enters the building again. It’s been distressing to my gentle wife, who isn’t used to such viciousness from people, you see.
Once that’s done, I reach out to Elizabeth for another piece I need to put my plan in motion.
“Elliot! Just the person I was about to call,” she says.
My eyebrows rise. “What’s up, sis? Need more funds for the poor?” She does hit me up often, and I give generously in support. She’s my sister, and I admire what she does to help those who are less fortunate.
“Actually, no…although I won’t refuse if you want to write another check. It’s about your wife.”
I’m instantly focused. “Information about her fall?”
“No, it’s something else. She called me half an hour ago to tell me about Annabelle Underhill. She wanted my help.”
For a stunned moment, I can’t process what she’s saying. Then the gears in my brain finally start rolling. “Damn it.”
I run a palm down my face. The fact that Belle turned to my sister—but not me—cuts deep. I tell myself we haven’t had a chance to talk, but I know that’s a lame-ass excuse. She’s had plenty of chances to lay it out and ask for my help.
A beat. Then Elizabeth says, “You know about what happened between them at the dinner?”
“Yeah. Paige told me.” Suddenly unable to sit still, I get to my feet and start pacing, the phone glued to my ear.
“Paige? How did she know?”
“She overheard.”
“Well, at least it was her and not somebody else. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to ask you to give me all the photos from Saturday.”