“So, you’re into semantics, too.” I roll my eyes. “Where have you seen him before, and why?”
“I feel a cramp in my leg coming on,” he says. “Nurse! Nurse!”
I kick the ball from under him, sending him to the floor. Then I rush over to the door and lock it shut.
“I only have five minutes before I have to be elsewhere,” I say, ignoring his moans. “So, I suggest you suck it up and answer my questions so I can leave.”
“Fine…” He sits up, glaring at me in pain. “I owe him some money.”
“Some?”
“Millions.”
“Why?”
“That’s none of your business,” he says. “It’s a personal arrangement.”
“Was your ex-wife involved in that? Is that how she got caught up in this?”
“Caught up in what?” He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Autumn doesn’t know shit about my personal finances—or finances in general. I bet she can’t even balance a fucking checkbook.”
I’ll come back to that topic later… “Tell me a bit more about your ex-wife. Her name is Autumn Jane, correct?”
“Correct. What about her?”
“Have you ever known her to get involved in anything illegal?”
“Autumn?” He sucks in a slow breath, and I wait for him to spill, but then he laughs. Uncontrollably.
Nearly wheezing, he leans back against the rubber ball—still laughing as if I’m a comedian.
“Mr. Taylor, I need you to take these questions seriously.”
“My ex-wife is one of the weakest and most naïve women I’ve ever known,” he says. “She’s not capable of committing anything except being annoying.”
“You’re not aware of any legal issues she had in Canada, years ago?” I’m confused. “You were together when she was a senior in high school, correct?”
“She stole a few candy bars from a gift shop,” he says, laughing again. “Can you believe they kicked her out of the country for that?”
“You know, Mr. Taylor, I’m starting to think you never knew your wife at all.”
“The person you should be going after is whoever helped her with our divorce.” His smile is finally gone. “That’s who should be in trouble. Do you know who that is?”
“I have a sneaking suspicion.”
“Oh, well good. What other questions do you have?”
“None.” I step back. “Thank you.”For nothing…
I return to the parking lot, feeling uneasy and slightly manipulated. It’s one thing for Edward Rochester to do it, but...
Goddamnit.
I slide behind the wheel of my car and beat my fists against the steering wheel. Then I tap the call button on my dash.
“Kylie,” I say the moment she answers, “tell me you’re still in Buffalo.”
“I am.”
