Chapter 2 - THE QUESTION MY HUSBAND SHOULD NEVER HAVE ASKED
My husband stood in our kitchen smiling, but all I could think about was the strange material floating in that glass of water.
And the tiny holes in the gold pendant.
Holes that would have rested against my skin.
"You're awfully quiet this morning," Julian said.
I forced myself to reach for the coffee maker.
"Didn't sleep well."
He leaned against the counter, studying me.
"Maybe you need a vacation."
"Maybe."
"We could take one after we sell the cottage."
There it was again.
My grandmother's cottage.
The one thing in my life he couldn't turn into another business opportunity.
"Julian, we've discussed this."
"I know." He raised both hands. "I'm just trying to make things easier for us."
I looked at his face.
Eight years earlier, I would have believed him.
Now I wondered whether the man standing three feet away had deliberately given me something dangerous.
He kissed my forehead before leaving the kitchen.
"Don't forget your necklace."
When he disappeared into the spare bedroom, I quietly closed the cabinet containing the glass.
Then I went into the bathroom and locked the door.
My hands were shaking when I called Nina Torres.
Nina worked with me at Lakefront Construction. She was forty-two, divorced, practical, and the only person at the office who knew how much money Julian had borrowed from me.
She answered on the second ring.
"You're calling before seven. Somebody better be bleeding."
"Nina, I need you to listen carefully."
Something in my voice changed hers.
"What happened?"
I explained the woman on the bus, Julian's gift, and what I'd found in the water.
Nina didn't interrupt.
When I finished, she said, "Have you touched whatever came out?"
"No."
"Good. Don't touch it. And don't put that necklace on."
"I wasn't going to."
"Morgan, I'm serious. You need to speak to someone who understands what you're looking at."
I sat on the closed toilet lid.
"You think he did something to it?"
"I think you have an unknown substance inside a piece of jewelry, and your husband is acting strangely. That's enough to take seriously."
She told me to call Poison Control and explain exactly what had happened.
I did.
The specialist couldn't identify the material from my description. She advised me not to handle the necklace or contaminated water, to avoid possible exposure, and to contact emergency services if there was an immediate threat.
She also recommended preserving the photographs and having professionals examine the object.
When I hung up, I felt slightly steadier.
I wasn't imagining what I'd seen.
Something was wrong.
Before leaving for work, I checked my purse.
My wallet.
My keys.
My grandmother's old brass cottage key.
And the small silver bracelet Clara had given me on my eighteenth birthday.
It carried one tiny charm shaped like an apple.
I rarely wore it anymore, but I always kept it close.
For some reason, I fastened it around my wrist that morning.
Then I went to work.
Nina was waiting beside my desk.
One look at my face, and she led me into an empty conference room.
"Show me the pictures."
I opened my phone.
She examined the photographs carefully.
The cloudy water.
The loosened backing.
The dark-stained material.
Then she enlarged the image of the pendant.
"What's that?"
I leaned closer.
Near the bottom edge of the backing was a tiny engraved symbol.
It looked like two letters joined together.
E.W.
"I didn't notice that," I whispered.
Nina sat back.
"Could be the maker's mark."
"Or someone's initials."
"Either way, it's somewhere to start."
I searched local jewelers during my lunch break.
Most results were ordinary stores.
Then I found a small business in Oak Park called Ward & Bell Jewelry Restoration.
Its website looked twenty years old.
The owner was listed as Evelyn Ward.
My stomach tightened.
E.W.
I called the shop.
A man answered.
"Ward & Bell."
"May I speak with Evelyn Ward?"
Silence.
Then he said, "Mrs. Ward doesn't work regular hours anymore."
"Could you tell her I need to ask about a gold necklace?"
"What kind?"
"A small oval pendant. It has her initials inside."
His response came too quickly.
"Where did you get it?"
"My husband gave it to me."
Another silence.
Then the man asked, "What's your husband's name?"
I hesitated.
"Julian."
The line went quiet long enough that I thought he'd hung up.
Finally, he spoke.
"Bring the necklace here."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because something was hidden inside it."
I heard a chair scrape.
"Ma'am, I think you'd better come in person."
He ended the conversation without giving his name.
I told Nina everything.
"Don't go alone," she said.
"I won't."
But before we could make plans, my office extension rang.
It was my supervisor, Daniel.
"Morgan, could you come upstairs?"
Daniel was usually friendly, but when I entered his office, he barely looked at me.
A stack of invoices sat on his desk.
"Have you authorized any payments to a company called Westbridge Consulting?"
"No."
"You're certain?"
"Absolutely."
He slid a document toward me.
It showed a consulting invoice for $18,750.
Under the approval section was my employee identification number.
And my name.
Morgan Hale.
I stared at it.
"Daniel, I never approved this."
"That's what I wanted to hear."
"Why?"
"Because we've found three more."
My mouth went dry.
The four invoices totaled more than $80,000.
All had been approved through my employee account during the previous six weeks.
"I didn't do this," I said.
Daniel looked exhausted.
"Our auditor is reviewing the records. I need you to stay away from the payment system until we know what's happened."
It felt like being accused of stealing from a company where I'd worked faithfully for eleven years.
I asked to see the vendor information.
Daniel hesitated, then turned his monitor.
Westbridge Consulting had a Chicago mailing address.
I recognized the building.
It was where Julian rented a desk for one of his supposedly promising businesses.
Suddenly, the invoices didn't look like an unrelated problem.
They looked like part of the same trap.
I walked out of Daniel's office with my heart pounding.
Nina met me near the elevator.
"What happened?"
I showed her the vendor's address.
Her expression changed.
"That's Julian's building."
"I know."
"Morgan, you need to call the police."
I agreed.
But I wanted one more thing first.
I went back to my desk and opened the photographs I'd taken that morning.
I examined the velvet box.
Something was tucked beneath the lining.
A narrow white label I'd barely noticed.
I enlarged it.
There was a handwritten number.
And below it, one printed word.
GREYSTONE.
I'd heard that name before.
A month earlier, Julian had described a man named Victor Sloane, a private investor who supposedly could rescue his struggling businesses.
Victor worked for Greystone Development.
And according to Julian, Victor had recently become his closest friend.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Julian.
Are you wearing your gift today?
I didn't answer.
Another message appeared.
We need to talk about the cottage tonight.
I forwarded the photographs and messages to Nina, then contacted the police to explain the necklace and the suspicious financial records.
An officer arranged to meet me at the apartment.
I left work early.
As I approached our building, I saw Julian's car already parked outside.
That was unusual.
He rarely came home before six.
I took the elevator upstairs.
Our apartment door was slightly open.
I heard movement in the kitchen.
Then Julian appeared.
He was holding the drinking glass.
The cloudy water was still inside.
The damaged necklace lay at the bottom.
For the first time in eight years, my husband looked frightened of me.
Not angry.
Not confused.
Frightened.
He glanced at my silver apple bracelet.
Then at my phone.
"Where did you hear about this?" he asked.
I stood motionless.
"Hear about what?"
He lifted the glass.
May you like
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Morgan, who told you to put the necklace in water?"
