Lie To Me. J.T. Ellison

she decided to do this.” A deep breath, a glance to her friends. “Did you hurt her, Ethan? Now is the time to come clean.”

      “Hurt her?” As he said it, he realized all three women were shivering. Rachel was downright shaking. A dawning realization. They were afraid of him. That’s why they’d come in hard and fast together—this was more than a confrontation. They were protecting each other.

      “I didn’t do anything to Sutton, and I believe it’s time for you to leave.”

      His sharp tone woke the infant, who wailed to life like the squawk of a siren. Filly shot Ethan a nasty glance, reached for her bundle of joy.

      “I’m serious. You lot, leave, right now. I can’t believe you’ve come over here to accuse me. I didn’t hurt Sutton. I’m worried sick about her.”

      Rachel, her voice quivering but her pointed chin inching up, said, “Sutton is a gentle soul. She’s been badly bruised by everything that’s happened the past year. And you’ve been fighting lately, she told me as much.”

      “All couples fight, Rachel. Ours are no worse than anyone else. You fight with Susannah all the time.”

      “That’s different. We have a sacred space for conflict, we have rules—”

      “Oh, for God’s sake. I didn’t hurt her. If anything, I’m more worried she went off and hurt herself.”

      Three uneasy stares. He shouldn’t have said that. It just came out.

      Ellen was the first to speak. “Are you saying she was suicidal?”

      Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. She isn’t. I’m saying I’ve thought about every possibility this morning. She left me. That’s what I know for sure. But Rachel is right. Sutton has had a very hard time since the baby... No, I don’t think she’d do that.” He was rambling. Shut up, Ethan. “I think she wants some drama, is all.”

      Wrong thing to say, take two.

      Filly clutched the crying baby closer. “You are a coldhearted bastard, Ethan Montclair. How could you say such a thing? Your wife is missing!”

      “That’s it. I want you all to leave.” When they didn’t move, he shouted, “Now!” at them, which had the effect of throwing a rock into a flock of pigeons.

      “This isn’t over, Ethan. Now that we know... Either you call the police, or we will.” Ellen threw in the last bit over her shoulder, and five seconds later the door slammed behind them. The finality of it shocked him.

      Bloody hell. Women.

      He paced the house for a few minutes, gathering himself, planning. He had to do something here, had to make a decision. Had she left him, as the note and $50,000 missing from their accounts indicated? Was she up for a bit of drama to punish him for his lack of attention lately? Or was it possible that she had hurt herself, and the money was for something else? Misdirection?

      A moment of actual sanity hit him. Sutton’s friends thought he’d hurt her. The police would, too. It was time to talk to the lawyer.

       BURN ALL THE LAWYERS

      Joel Robinson’s office was three blocks away. Ethan decided to walk. If the lawyer wasn’t there, he’d leave a note. He simply had to move, to get out of the house. Get away from Sutton’s shade, lingering about like a malevolent ghost.

      Robinson was short, round, red-nosed, a cheerful Santa Claus with white hair and a long beard. He worked out of the third story of a lovely Victorian on Fifth Avenue that had been converted to individual offices a decade hence. He had no secretary, opting to manage all of his clients in a state of utter secrecy. While they’d been social acquaintances for several years, Ethan never thought he’d grace the man’s professional door. Yet here he was.

      Thankfully, said door was unlocked, and Robinson himself was inside. What luck.

      Ethan rapped his knuckles on the door frame.

      “Joel? Am I interrupting?”

      “Ethan. Hello. Just prepping for a case, court later this week. What’s up? You ready to schedule that drink?”

      “I was hoping I could buy you lunch. I need to run something by you.”

      Robinson cocked his head to the side. “Sorry, no can do today. Client coming in shortly. Why don’t we shoot for tomorrow?”

      In his hesitation, something must have shown on Ethan’s face, because Robinson waved a hand and said, “But I have fifteen minutes now. Tell me your troubles.”

      Ethan gave a humorless laugh. “It seems my wife has left me. Here’s the note.”

      Robinson read it, brow furrowed, then handed it back. “That’s too bad. I always thought the two of you were thick as thieves. Don’t worry yourself too much. With any luck, she’ll see the error of her ways and come home soon.”

      “Here’s the issue, Joel. She’s left without her things. No wallet, no phone, no laptop. Fifty thousand is missing from our accounts. On the surface, this all looks standard, I know. But I have a bad feeling. Something’s wrong. She’s been very depressed and upset since our baby...since Dashiell died. My head says she left. My heart is concerned that she’s done something stupid.”

      Robinson tapped his fingers on the desk, rhythmic, endless, processing.

      “Suicide makes no sense. Why take money? If you’re planning to off yourself, why the cash?”

      “Exactly. I agree. Problem is, none of her friends know where she is, and get this, they think I had something to do with her disappearance. They came by to confront me. I could tell by the way they were acting, they’re scared of me. They said if I didn’t call the police they’d do it for me. I don’t—”

      A hairy white brow rose, and Robinson held up his hands. “Stop. I don’t want to know.”

      “I didn’t—”

      “Seriously. Stop. Right now.”

      “No. Listen to me. I didn’t hurt my wife. But I think it’s time to call the police. Get out in front of this. Just in case.”

      Robinson was shaking his head, eyes closed. “You’re screwed if you do. They will tear your lives apart.”

      “I can’t sit around and do nothing. I’m worried about her.”

      “Sit down.”

      Ethan hesitated for two seconds, then sat.

      “Here’s how this is going to go. If you call the police, they will immediately consider you a suspect. Every word you utter will be parsed. Say they find her living it up in Rio, all fine and dandy. But say something has happened to her. God forbid, I know, but if someone has harmed her—”

      “God, no. Don’t even say it.”

      Robinson sighed. “It’s a terrible thought, I know. But no matter the circumstance, you are going to be turned inside out. They will investigate you until warrants are coming out your ass, and if they find nothing, you’ll be convicted in the media regardless. You know how they love to spin things. Once word gets out on this, you can’t turn back. Have you tried looking for her?”

      “Not really. I mean, I’ve been giving her space. She asked me not to look for her. I’m honoring that request.” He sounded prim, like a schoolmarm, and Robinson shook his head again.

      “Come on, Ethan. Think. That’s a guilty man’s answer. The media will spin your hesitation into the story. They’ll claim you’ve been buying time, making sure your tracks are covered.”

      “What would you have me do then? Lie? Say I’ve been combing the town looking for her? If she left, that makes me look like an abusive asshole.”

      “Lose-lose,