Chapter Forty
JOHN HAD RESPONDED suggesting they meet at the Promenade in Brooklyn Heights.
He might not have planted the cameras, Ted thought when he saw the text the next morning, but he knows where I live. He felt dread in the pit of his stomach, wondering if he was making a desperate mistake.
It’s a cold, ugly day, and Ted is in a cold, ugly mood. Jill had gone off to work with hardly a word to him this morning, as if she couldn’t wait to leave the house. They feel uncomfortable in their own home, estranged from each other.
There aren’t as many runners and dog walkers out on the Promenade now that the nice weather is over.
No one is here to simply enjoy the stunning view of Manhattan across the East River.
Ted is nervous; he feels a bit like a spy in a novel, standing on a bridge waiting to meet another spy.
His own life doesn’t feel real to him any more.
John doesn’t appear until ten minutes past the appointed time. Ted was already wondering if he was going to stand him up again, like before. But then he sees John sauntering casually toward him, smiling in that sly way he does. Ted is not smiling. Ted loathes John, but he needs him.
‘Hi, Ted,’ John says. He pulls out a cigarette, lights it with a click of his fancy gold lighter, battling a little against the wind. ‘Ready to do business?’ he asks.
‘Let’s cut the bullshit,’ Ted snaps. ‘We both know you don’t have what I want.’
John smiles more broadly. ‘It was fun while it lasted. But no, you’re right. I don’t have what was on those cameras. I guess you feel like an idiot right now.’ Ted feels his entire body stiffening. John continues. ‘But someone has those files, and you’re all panic stations, am I right?’
Ted waits, reluctant to commit himself. They stand quietly side by side, looking out at the view.
‘I imagine you could use some help with this,’ John says eventually.
Ted says, ‘It depends.’
‘It depends,’ John repeats. ‘On what? From where I sit, you don’t have a lot to work with.’
‘Fine,’ Ted says. ‘Can you help me? And how much will it cost?’
John blows out a stream of cigarette smoke. ‘Let’s worry about the cost later.’
‘What are you going to do?’ Ted asks nervously.
‘Maybe the less you know the better,’ John says, then tosses his spent cigarette to the ground and grinds it out with his foot. ‘Let me see what I can find out. I’ll get back to you.’
Ted watches him walk away, feeling like he’s lost all control of everything.
John is pleased as he walks away from the Promenade.
Nice of Ted to reach out. He knew as soon as Ted texted him for a meeting how it was going to go.
He’s not going to tell Ted his methods, or what he’s going to do.
He’s not squeamish, but Ted might be. He’ll get to the bottom of this.
He will discover who the blackmailer is and obtain those digital files – and any copies – for himself.
And then he’ll laugh all the way to the bank.
He imagines Ted’s face when he tells him he has the files. John is interested in seeing what’s on them. He imagines showing Ted a short clip, and smiles to himself. He already knows where to start.
That night, Jill is lost in worry, preparing dinner, and Ted is helping with the salad. They hardly speak. There’s a pall over them in this house. They don’t know who is doing this to them.
Ted says slowly, ‘Do you still think it could be Min?’
She turns to face him. She’d always liked Greg’s ex. But she remembers how cold Min had been to them at the memorial last week, how she and her boyfriend had wanted to avoid them. She’d wondered at the time if Min blamed them for not being able to save Greg. ‘I don’t know.’
Ted says, ‘She lost a lot of money on that deal I did for her. Greg was furious about it, and so was she. Remember how he came after me at that dinner?’
Jill remembers that awful dinner with Greg at the Odeon all too well. She tries to think. Is it possible that her ex-sister-in-law might be behind all this?
‘Why don’t we call her tomorrow,’ Ted suggests, ‘see if we can visit?’
It’s all too much for Jill.
As she sets the kitchen table, she remembers how she and Ted had sat at this same table, months ago, and planned how to push Greg off his boat. How comfortable they’d felt in their own home then. How much they’d loved each other. How much they’d had to live for.
So much has changed.
If only they had been able to see how it would all turn out.
If only they’d been able to see themselves a few months into the future, the way they are now.
Strangers in their own house. Terrified.
There are videos out there with their reckless confessions on them, held by someone who is staying in the shadows, waiting to take everything they have.
Jill’s phone is on the kitchen island. It pings, and once again time stands still.
She picks up the phone, her hand shaking, but it’s only work, about a painting that has been sold. Jill can’t take much more of this. She’s going to lose her mind.