“Read it now,” Mac said. “Dave is asleep. Read it.”
It was eleven forty-seven. Dave had gone to bed forty minutes ago and the apartment was quiet and Cloe was at the kitchen table with her laptop open and Mac sitting across from her with his elbows on the table and his eyes on her face.
She had been looking at the email for twenty minutes without opening the last attachment.
She did not know why she was hesitating. She had read everything else Caroline had sent. The backdated contract, precise and damning. The side letter, Sandra’s signature clear at the bottom of a document that proved a financial arrangement designed to trap a woman in a marriage that had already ended in every way that mattered. She had read all of it and sent it to Ruth and Ruth had called back in nine minutes with
