Page 10 of The Awful Truth

She slid into her squeaky office chair and put her handbag in the bottom drawer of her desk, then turned on her computer and waited for it to boot up. The Director was on a phone call with the door shut, jotting something down in a small black notepad that flipped open from the top. It was the type beat cops used, and he told her once he never found something better than that, even though it had been over thirty years since he walked the streets in uniform on the lookout for trouble. His package of Marlboros was already on his desk, waiting for two p.m., when he would allow himself to go out for a smoke, a sign that The Director was extremely stressed.

A slow smile crossed her face. The notepad would stay. And it would have what Luka needed.

Petra busied herself filling in her timesheet for the week while she waited for him to burst through the door, gripping his cigarette package.

Finally, at quarter after two, he was gone. She sat perfectly still for an entire minute, barely even daring to breathe. This was it. She was about to cross a line and if she got caught, it would mean the end of her job. Her father would be furious. Her brother-in-law would forever make snide comments about her ruining the family’s good name. Her sister would roll her eyes at her and tell their mother she knew Petra would do something stupid like this. Her mother would cry and ask her what she had done wrong to make her end up this way. She would never live it down. The whole thing would be awful.

But then the image of Luka, sitting on the edge of the bed with a huge smile, touching her arm, kissing her so passionately, rolled through her brain like the tide coming in, smoothing out the sand and sweeping up the seaweed as it retreated. She stood and hurried into The Director’s office. The notepad was on his desk, clasp closed, as if to say none of your business.

Petra sat at the desk and opened the clasp with shaky hands, then flipped to the last page that had been written on. Only there was nothing there about a yacht or a murder or some famous people. It was a recipe for a protein shake: frozen mango, frozen kale, almond butter, plain yogurt, and frozen blueberries.

She swore under her breath and glanced out into the outer office to see if anyone was watching her. The constables in the far corner were having a laugh about something on one of their phones, and the other secretary had gone for her coffee break. Looking back at the book, her heart pounding in her ears, she suddenly noticed the page after the recipe had been ripped out. Which meant whatever was on that page was so sensitive, he must have pocketed it.

Her mind leaped to an episode of an old mystery show her dad used to watch—to one particular scene in which the amateur sleuth (a librarian, if she was remembering correctly) had used a pencil to shade in the words on a legal pad that the bad guy had been writing on. She glanced back up, knowing she couldn’t exactly sit here shading in the page. She had to rip it out. But what if he noticed another piece of paper missing?

She looked at the entrance again to make sure he wasn’t coming, then she carefully ripped the paper in one clean line and pocketed it. Standing up, Petra hurried toward the door, only to get to it just as The Director was walking back in, looking much more relaxed. Maybe she should take up smoking. It certainly seemed to do him a world of good.

His eyes landed on her as she stood frozen in the doorway of his office like a stupid statue. His expression hardened as he walked toward her, but Petra gave him an easy smile. “Your phone was ringing.”

“Who was it?”

“Not sure. They hung up before I got to your desk.”

He grunted something that sounded like okay, then walked back into his office and closed the door.

THREE DAYS BEFORE THE INCIDENT

“If you can’t say something good about someone, sit right here by me.” ~ Alice Roosevelt Longworth

4:00 P.M. — SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 9

SPLIT, CROATIA

CHARLOTTE EVANS

“So far I don’t love Croatia,” Antonia muttered as she, Ted, and Charlotte rushed through the crowded airport with overloaded luggage carts in search of the exit.

“It’s hardly the entire country’s fault,” Ted answered.

“I was being hyperbolic.”

The flight arrived in Split on time, but there was a technical problem with the gate, and they’d sat on the tarmac in the baking sun for an excruciating ninety-two minutes—without the benefit of air conditioning.

Charlotte, who had been fast asleep until the plane landed, and was already a little too warm, was overheated, groggy, and grumpy by the time the door finally opened, allowing a rush of fresh air into the cabin. The next twenty minutes had been frantically searching for their bags at the luggage claim, and making phone calls to the car service to ensure a limo would be waiting for them. The entire time, Antonia made little disapproving comments under her breath. “What is with these people? Do we have to stand so close together?” “Honestly, can they not just find someone to get us our luggage already? Don’t they know we’ve been delayed?”

“You should leave a review of the airport on TripAdvisor,” Ted told her sardonically.

Charlotte bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. She couldn’t laugh. Not now. Not with Antonia, the world’s greatest Karen, in a mood again. God, she was a bitch. She could find a way to be miserable in Disneyland. What’s with these people? Why are they smiling so much? Why are there so many children?

Finally, they found themselves settled in the back of a cool, quiet limousine, speeding toward the marina.

“Can you see if there’s water in the fridge please, Charlotte?” Antonia asked, even though she was the closest to it.

“Certainly.” Charlotte scooted forward until she was perched on the edge of her seat. She tried to yank the door open, and when it wouldn’t budge, she felt her pulse speed up. She pulled again and again without any luck.

Ted leaned forward and flicked the lock at the top. “There you go,” he said in his friendly, ‘I’ve got you’ voice. It was the single most attractive thing about him. His older man know-how. His kindness too (well, to Charlotte anyway). Since she first got hired as a PA on The Marriage Whisperers, Ted had been unfailingly good to her—protective, understanding, sweet, and funny. At first, it felt like he was the father figure she should have had. And he just knew how to do stuff the men of her generation didn’t. Like opening the mini-fridge in a limo. And pleasuring her with his mouth. He knew what he was doing. And even though Charlotte knew it was all kinds of wrong, she let him do it.

He was a terrible husband, but she didn’t blame him for that. She was sure he had started out as an amazing one (well, decent, at least), but year after year with a disapproving wench like Antonia would cause a saint to abandon his morals.