The Stranger
Page 74

“Listen to me, Adam. Sit down, okay? Let’s just talk this out.”
“I keep thinking about Corinne’s reaction when I confronted her about faking the pregnancy. She didn’t bother denying it. What she really wanted to know is how I found out. She figured that you were behind it somehow. Sending her a warning. That’s why she called you. To let you know she’d had enough. What did you say back to her, Tripp?”
He didn’t bother replying.
“Did you beg her for one more chance? Did you ask her to meet you so you could explain?”
“You got some imagination, Adam.”
Adam shook his head and tried to hold it together. “All that philosophizing to me about how the sweet old lady or sports board member rationalizes embezzling funds. How it begins small. Gas money, you said. A coffee at the diner.” Adam moved a step closer. “Is that how it went for you?”
“I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Adam swallowed and felt the tears start to come. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”
Silence.
“You killed my wife.”
“You can’t really believe that.”
But Adam could feel his body start to quake from the truth. “We’re living the dream, right? Isn’t that what you always say, Tripp? How lucky we all are, how thankful we should be. You married Becky, your high school sweetheart. You have five wonderful kids. You’d do anything to protect them, wouldn’t you? What would happen to your precious dream if it got out that you’re nothing but a thief?”
Tripp Evans straightened up and pointed at the door. “Get out of my office.”
“It came down to you or Corinne. That’s how you saw it. Your family gets destroyed. Or mine. For a guy like you, the choice was easy.”
Tripp’s tone was colder now. “Get out.”
“That text you sent pretending to be her. I should have seen it right away.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You killed her. And then, to buy time, you sent that text. I was supposed to read it and figure she was blowing off steam—and if I didn’t believe that, if I thought something happened to her, the police wouldn’t pay attention. They’d see the text. They’d learn we just had a giant fight. They wouldn’t even bother filling out a report. You knew all that.”
Tripp shook his head. “You got it wrong.”
“I wish I did.”
“You can’t prove this. You can’t prove any of this.”
“Prove? Maybe not. But I know.” Adam held up his cell phone. “‘You take care of the kids.’”
“What?”
“That’s what the text says. ‘You take care of the kids.’”
“So?”
“So Corinne never called Thomas and Ryan the kids.” He smiled even as his heart sank. “It was always the boys. That’s what they were. Not her kids. Her boys. Corinne never wrote that text. You did. You killed her and then you sent that text so no one would start looking for her right away.”
“That’s your proof?” Tripp almost laughed. “You really think anyone is going to believe that crazy story?”
“Doubt it.”
Adam lifted the gun out of his pocket and took aim.
Tripp’s eyes went wide. “Whoa, just calm down and listen a second.”
“I don’t really need to hear more of your lies, Tripp.”
“Just . . . Becky is meeting me here in a few minutes.”
“Oh, good.” Adam moved the gun closer to the man’s face. “What would your little philosophizing say about that? Eye for an eye maybe?”
For the first time, Tripp Evans’s mask slipped off and Adam could see the darkness beneath. “You wouldn’t hurt her.”
Adam just stared at him. Tripp stared back. For a second, neither of them moved. Then something changed in Tripp. Adam could see it. Tripp began to nod to himself. He leaned back and grabbed his car keys.
“Let’s go,” Tripp said.
“What?”
“I don’t want you here when Becky arrives. Let’s go.”
“So where are we going?”
“You wanted the truth, right?”
“If this is some sort of trick . . .”
“It’s not. You’ll see the truth with your own eyes, Adam. Then you can do whatever you want. That’s the deal. But we gotta go right now. I don’t want Becky hurt, do you understand?”
They started out the door. Adam walked a step behind. He kept the gun on Tripp for a few seconds, but then he realized how that might look if someone walked by, so he put the gun in his jacket pocket. He still pointed it at Tripp through the pocket, like some guy in a bad movie using his finger to pretend he had a gun.
When they stepped outside, a familiar Dodge Durango pulled into the lot. Both men froze as Becky pulled in. Tripp whispered, “If you touch a hair on her head . . .”
“Just get rid of her,” Adam said.
Becky Evans had the cheerful smile on her face. She waved with too much enthusiasm and pulled up next to them.
“Hey, Adam,” Becky called out.
She was still so damn cheerful.
“Hey, Becky.”
“What are you doing here?”
Adam looked toward Tripp. Tripp said, “Something came up with the sixth-grade boys’ game.”
“I thought that was tomorrow night.”
“Well, that’s just it. We might get kicked out of the whole tournament because of some registration problem. Adam and I are just going to take a ride over there and see if we can work it out.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. We were going to go out to dinner.”
“We still will, hon. It shouldn’t take more than an hour or two. We’ll go to Baumgart’s when I get home, okay? Just the two of us.”
Becky nodded, but for the first time, the smile faltered. “Sure.” She turned to Adam. “Take care, Adam.”
“You too.”
“Give my best to Corinne. We really need to go out soon, the four of us.”
Adam managed to say, “I’d like that.”
With another cheery wave, Becky drove off. Tripp watched her. His eyes were wet. When she was out of sight, he started walking again. Adam followed. Tripp took out his key and unlocked the car. He got in on the driver’s side. Adam took the seat next to him. He pulled the gun out of his pocket and pointed it at Tripp again. Tripp seemed calmer now. He hit the accelerator and started out on Route 3.