“We have to cut off all contact with each other,” I tell Vicky. “There can’t be any trace of our connection.”
“Absolutely.”
“What evidence do you have of a connection to me?” I ask. “Did Simon know you met with me?”
“Simon doesn’t know you exist,” she says. “I didn’t tell him I was interviewing financial advisers. I’d never want him to know that.”
“You have some materials, brochures, that kind of thing, from my office?”
“I think I still do.”
“Find them and shred them or burn them.”
“Okay,” she says.
“You ever write my name down? Look me up on your computer?”
She thinks about that. “I looked you up on my computer when I was researching financial advisers.”
“Then dump the computer.”
“I can wipe the computer—”
“No, no, wiping the computer isn’t enough. Cops can recover all that stuff. Break it into pieces and dump it in a river. I’m not kidding, Vicky. This is important.”
“Okay, I will.”
“That’s what I did to my laptop,” I tell her. “I smashed it, broke it in half, dismantled all the parts. I’ve scrubbed all evidence of you from this apartment.”
“Do you have a copy of Simon’s trust?” she asks.
I did, past tense. I shredded it this morning, then I burned the shreds in my fireplace.
“The cops could search this entire place,” I tell her. “They would find no evidence of you, Vicky. No computer. No documents. Nothing.”
“What about evidence of... y’know... me?”
“You mean DNA?” I say. “No. I got rid of my bedsheets. I washed them just to be sure, then threw them in the dumpster in the alley. They’ll be long gone by the time this happens.”
I sit down next to her.
“Now about your phone,” I say. “You’ve called me and texted me.”
She blushes. “It’s a burner,” she says.
“Your—your phone is a burner?”
“The one I use to call you is, yes. A prepaid phone. Are you surprised? You think I want Simon looking at the phone bill and wondering what number I keep calling?”
Ah, yes, that makes sense. Phew. That makes things easier. I’ve been using a burner with her all along, for a different reason, for when I made my escape with her money, but I’ve never told her that.
“So we’re covered,” I say. “You’ll destroy your computer. You’ll dump your burner. Okay.” I rub my hands together.
“You have a gun yet?” she asks.
Not yet. I’m getting one from Gavin. With a silencer. But she doesn’t know about Gavin. “Soon,” I say.
I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I’m doing this.