Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

AINSLEY

"S omeone's here to see you."

I peeked my head around my desk, searching through the glass that separated me from the lobby, looking for a familiar customer. To my surprise, there was only one person waiting in the lobby, a woman with a wavy, black bob and steely eyes.

"Did she say what she needs?"

"She didn't. She asked if you worked here…"

I inhaled sharply then composed myself. "Thank you, Tara." Placing the phone down, I stood from behind my desk and stepped out into the lobby, my hands clasped together in front of me. My heels clicked across the lobby without caution, the smile on my face showing warmth and peace. I'd always been able to control the way I came across to people, even when I was the complete opposite internally.

"Hi," I said, extending my hand toward her. "I'm Ainsley Greenburg. How can I help you today?"

She made no attempt to smile. Instead, she stood from the stiff couch in the center of our lobby, returning the hand shake and clearing her throat.

"My name's Illiana De Luca. Perhaps we should go inside your office."

I nodded, my throat too dry at the sound of her name. Was it a coincidence?

"Of course," I squeaked. I turned, gesturing that she should lead the way. Once we were inside my office, away from prying ears, she sat down across from me, clasping her hands together in her lap. Breathe, Ainsley. "Now, was there something I could do for you?"

"There is, actually. I was hoping you might be able to tell me where my husband is."

A chill swept over me at her words, and I stared at her brown, sorrow-filled eyes, making sense of their cool quality. I remembered her name from the news, but I didn't want to believe it.

Keep it together. You have no idea who her husband is.

"Your husband? Does he have an account with us?"

She shook her head, pressing her lips into a thin line. "Don't patronize me, Ainsley. I know you were sleeping with Stefan. Do you know where he is? Why he isn't returning my calls? Why he hasn't shown up for work in three days?"

I tried to collect myself while refusing to break eye contact. I wouldn't let her see the lie in my expression. "I'm so sorry… I don't know where he is. We weren't sleeping together. I had no idea he was married, but we only went out on one date. We didn't even kiss."

The woman's tone grew more frustrated. "I don't care about any of that. Stefan and I had a complicated marriage. I know he went to visit you on the night he disappeared."

My whole body tensed, fear palpable in the room. I wondered if she could feel it, too. "If he did, he either never made it to me or he missed me. I only saw him one time…" I paused, chewing my bottom lip. "Does he have family? Friends? Maybe he went out of town?"

"That wouldn't explain him not answering my calls," she snipped.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know him well, but I hope he is found safe. He was…very kind to me." I looked down for the first time, forcing away thoughts of his kindness on our first date. "Again, I'm so sorry about the circumstances. I had no idea about you. I'd never…" I shook my head. "I didn't want anyone to get hurt—you included."

Suddenly, I was thinking about what we'd done. What we'd taken from her. What would I do if someone took Peter from me? If the woman he'd dated had caused his death? My lips pressed together until it was painful, and I released them.

"I doubt that," she said, not bothering to try and hide her disgust with me. "You're married, too, aren't you?"

"H-how could you know that?" Realization swept over me. "I'm sorry, how did you even know about me? How did you find me?"

"My husband was a cop, Mrs. Greenburg. Do you think we didn't look into the women he was seeing? Made sure they seemed normal? Sane?" She studied my expression. "I know all about you."

"I'm sorry, women? Plural? He was seeing multiple people? And you knew about it?"

"The intricacies of my marriage are none of your concern—"

"Of course not, I would never, I—"

"But what should be your concern is the fact that I'm going to tell the detectives working his case all about you. I'm going to tell them where you live, your children's names, your husband's name. We're going to get to the bottom of this. I wanted to give you a chance to come clean, to tell me the truth without involving the law. If you know where he is and you're hiding it from me, or if you've done something wrong and you're lying, we'll figure it out. But not before your life, your children's lives, are dragged through the hassles of a criminal investigation."

There was no doubt in her eyes, no sign that she was bluffing. She was going to make sure the truth was found out. She was going to make sure I went down for it.

"Are you sure you don't have anything you want to tell me?" she asked, reaching for the brown, oversized handbag she'd placed in the seat next to her.

"I'm sorry, I have no idea…" I whispered half-heartedly.

She sighed, standing up. "Well, if you think of anything, you should be sure to tell Detective Chad." She pulled a card from the bag and laid it down in front of me. "I'm going to give him your contact information tonight." She turned, grabbing hold of the doorknob without another word.

"Wait," I cried, standing up. She spun back around, a knowing look in her eyes. "I can't talk here… I don't know a lot, but I might know something. I'll tell you everything I know, but I can't do it here. This is my place of business. I have customers waiting."

"My husband is missing," she argued. "I hardly care about overdraft fees."

"I understand. I want to help. Please, just… Please. Come to my house this evening. We can talk alone. Me and you. We can discuss everything." She hesitated, watching me closely with a dubious expression. "I know you don't know me that well, and I don't know him that well, but he seems very sweet. I want you to find him."

She nodded slowly, wary of the offer. "Fine. What time do you get off?"

"Five. I can meet you at my house at six."

"Fine," she repeated.

"My address is—"

"I know." Without allowing me to finish, she pulled the door open and marched out. "I'll see you at six."

As I watched her disappear from the lobby, a sharp, ragged breath escaped my lungs, and I clutched my chest. I hurried over to the door, watching her climb into a red Hyundai Santa Fe and realized it matched the description of the car my employees had seen outside the branch Saturday morning.

How long had Illiana De Luca been looking for me?

And what was she planning to do now that she'd found me?