Page 79 of You'll Never Know

We remain like that for an awkward moment before I say, “Well, I’d better get going. I’ve kept you long enough.”

Reed gives a slight shake of his head and blinks. “Right, yes. Of course. It was nice to meet you.”

“You too.” I reach out and set my hand on his forearm. “Thank you. I seriously don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along.”

“No problem. Happy to help.”

I let my hand linger a beat longer before stepping past him toward the car. I have to play this right. I can’t come on too strong. If I do, I risk rousing his suspicion. He needs to think he’s the one in control here. Not me. If he doesn’t ask me out now, I’ll make sure to bump into him again soon, in a week or so. It’s only a matter of time before it happens. Time, I realize, I don’t need the moment he speaks.

“Avery.”

I turn back. He looks flustered, one hand cupping the back of his neck.

“Would you maybe want to grab a drink sometime? I’d be happy to show you around town.”

My lips curl into a smile again—one I don’t have to force.

“Sure. I’d love that.”

Chapter 40

REED

Seattle, Washington

Age Thirty

Reed strode through the parking garage toward Evelyn’s BMW X7. She was gone, attending a graphic design conference in San Francisco. She’d flown out last night. It was why he’d picked today to leave. He’d planned it meticulously. He’d had the date marked on his mental calendar for weeks. An easy exit like always. And out of all the jobs he’d ever pulled, that’s what he needed with this one. An easy exit. Because what he was about to do to Evelyn would devastate her, and he knew it.

He opened the BMW’s trunk, placed his luggage inside, and stared at it. His entire life fit into a single suitcase. At thirty years old, it didn’t seem fitting. And after what he’d just done, it wouldn’t anymore.

Eight months. That’s how long it had taken Reed to uncover the investment account. With Donald breathing down his neck a little more every day, Reed knew he was running out of time. He should have left town already.

He hadn’t counted on the trust.

Evelyn’s inheritance sat inside the financial equivalent of FortKnox. Reed figured she’d be swimming in money—and in a way she was. She received a monthly stipend of thirty thousand for living expenses. A good amount of cash, sure, but nowhere near the retirement money Reed had counted on when infiltrating her life. Still, the monthly distributions seemed like more than she needed by a long shot. And she didn’t buy shit.

So where was all that money going?

“I invest it,” she’d told him one day when he’d asked her off the cuff, looking at him like it was the dumbest question ever—like there was no other alternative.

“Really?” he’d said. “I didn’t know you were into the stock market. It’s a passion of mine. I invest all the time.”

“Why haven’t you disclosed this before?”

He’d shrugged. “I didn’t know you were interested.”

“What are your primary sources of information?”

“I’m a big fan of Buffet.”

She’d snorted then. “Being a fan of someone isn’t a reliable way to make an investment decision, Adrian.”

She was right, so he started leaving investment books on the kitchen table, in the bathroom, near the mail. He slipped market analysis into their conversations. They spent hours discussing the S&P 500 and which ETF was the cheapest. They yammered about value stocks and P/E ratios. It was the auditory equivalent of watching paint dry, but Reed acted like he loved every second.

It took a month for her to show him her portfolio.

It took him another month to hack her password.