Chapter 2 - The Shark and the Bait
The moment the police left, I didn't cry. I walked upstairs, took a cold shower, and dressed in a tailored navy pantsuit. I applied my makeup with the precision of a soldier painting camouflage. Then, I drove straight to the most ruthless defense attorney in the city.
Evelyn Cross charged a thousand dollars an hour and had the bedside manner of a rattlesnake. I slapped my retainer on her glass desk and told her everything.
"He forged my signature," I concluded, sitting perfectly straight in the leather chair. "He and Samantha are using their little romantic scandal to cover up grand larceny, hoping the FBI locks me up while they sip mojitos in Nassau."
Evelyn leaned back, steepling her fingers. "The FBI has a 95% conviction rate, Catherine. If your name is on those offshore accounts, you are the prime suspect. Richard isn't just a cheating husband anymore; he is a fugitive, and you are currently his scapegoat."
"So, how do we destroy him?" I asked, not missing a beat.
Evelyn’s lips curled into a rare, dangerous smile. "First, you don't say a word to the police without me present. Second, we need to prove Richard had access to your identity documents to forge those signatures. Third, we find the money. Because right now, Richard is trapped. You froze his credit cards last night. If he’s in the Bahamas with twelve million in stolen funds, he can't access it through normal channels without tripping federal alarms. He is stranded."
The realization hit me like a shot of adrenaline. Richard and Samantha had landed in paradise expecting to live like royalty. Instead, because of my petty, scorned-wife reaction to cancel their credit cards, they were effectively broke in a foreign country.
"They need a way to get the cash clean," I murmured.
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"Exactly," Evelyn said. "And criminals always make mistakes when they are broke and desperate."
I left Evelyn's office with a plan. I wasn't going to sit at home waiting for the FBI to arrest me. I was going to hunt my husband down myself. I drove to Samantha’s apartment building. As her best friend, I still had her emergency spare key on my keychain. It was time to see what my best friend had left behind.
