The Life She Wants Read Free Page A

him.
    â€œHave you given any thought to what kind of job you’re going to get?” he asked.
    â€œWell,” she said, taking a thoughtful sip. “I was considering being a life coach. What do you think?”
    â€œYou can certainly provide plenty of experience with what not to do,” he said.
    â€œI can honestly say I haven’t felt this relaxed in years,” she said.
    Lyle was quiet for a moment. “Emmie, I don’t know what it’s going to be like for you around here. It’s a quiet town, but not without its resident gossips and petty meanness. Know what I mean?”
    â€œI grew up around here, remember?” she said. “No matter where I go, it’s going to follow me. But I was never indicted for any crime. And believe me, they looked hard and long.”
    â€œI just want you to be ready. In case.”
    â€œIn case people are nasty to me or snigger when I walk by? That’s why I came here rather than trying to find some new place where I could be a stranger with a new identity—everyone figures it out eventually. Lies don’t last—Richard was proof of that. Let’s just get it over with. I was married to the late Richard Compton, the infamous broker and thief. There’s no way to undo it. And I didn’t have to think about it long—the stress of trying to keep it secret is something I’m just not up to. I could change my name, color my hair, even get a nose job if I had any money, but eventually everyone is going to know it’s me. It’s hopeless, Lyle—Google me and see for yourself.”
    â€œUnder Emma Shay?”
    â€œAnd Emma Shay Compton, Emma Compton, Emma Catherine Shay.”
    â€œDear God,” he groaned. “I hope it dwindles away quickly,” he said.
    â€œIt’s all on the record. Anyone who’s curious is welcome to read all about it. There are even a couple of books, though they’re not very accurate.”
    â€œHow’d he do it, Em?”
    She knew exactly what he was talking about. Richard’s suicide. She took a breath. She was surprised he hadn’t just looked it up—it was splattered, like Richard’s brains, across all the papers and internet news sites.
    â€œAfter he’d attempted to run via a colleague’s private jet with a fake passport, he was returned to jail and held without bond. The lawyers managed to negotiate house arrest with an ankle bracelet. After the guilty verdict was returned he tried to negotiate sentencing by giving up offshore account numbers, hoping to reduce his sentence. But no matter what, he was going to jail for a long time. He opened the hidden safe behind the bookcase in his home office, pulled out his loaded Glock and shot himself. In the head.”
    Lyle shook his head. “He didn’t want to go to prison...”
    â€œI’m sure it was more than that,” she said. “Oh, there was no doubt prison would be horrendous, but that’s not why he did it. There was no material wealth left. There were no more offshore or Swiss accounts. It was really over. He was going to go to prison for fifty years and even if he was paroled early or could escape, there was nothing to allow him to retire quietly in Aruba, or some other remote island. With his stash.” She sighed. “It was the most important thing to him. The wealth.”
    â€œI’m surprised the police didn’t know about the safe or the gun,” he said. “Didn’t you say they searched the apartment?”
    She shrugged. “I don’t know if they ever saw it—they weren’t looking for it. They confiscated his computers and lots of files from home and his office, all his electronics, but their warrant wasn’t for things like guns or drugs. I didn’t know about the gun.”
    â€œDid he do anything at all to try to protect you?” Lyle asked.
    She just shook her head.
    â€œAnd after he was