“No, and we need one. Can you make that happen?”

“Yes, I’ll do it. We’ll also put someone on the house, discreetly. Tell him, so he doesn’t need to worry. You figure out why this blogger suddenly decided to extort money from the Montclairs, and whether this is for real, or simply a diversion. We’ll work from the opposite direction, try to locate Wilde.” There was a note in Moreno’s voice that was readily understood—make sure Montclair isn’t trying to buy time.

Ethan didn’t react visibly, though a small wave of hopelessness passed through him. They all thought he was involved. All of them.

“Roger that.”

Graham hung up and faced Ethan.

“Start talking. I need to know everything you left out before.”

“What makes you think I left anything out?”

The cop looked annoyed. “Mr. Montclair, please don’t play games with me. I want to help you, and I want to find your wife unharmed. I have no agenda here. You called us for help. Help is what I’m offering. But you can’t keep holding back on me. Tell me the truth. What’s really going on here?”

“I am telling you the truth. I haven’t said a single thing that’s not true.”

“You also aren’t telling me everything, or else you wouldn’t have some random blogger trying to extort money from you. Spit it out.”

Ethan walked to the counter, ran his hand over the smooth surface. It had become a talisman for him now. All the fights, all the hurt feelings, over a stupid slab of stone. He was marked for life by it, and he should be. To let his marriage, his wife, slip away over such ridiculous things as ego and blame and emotionless sex branded him forever as a horrible man.

“I had an affair. Wilde found out. He’s threatened to make it public knowledge before. It wasn’t even a thing. I was drunk. I barely remembered it.” You sound like you’re making excuses. Stop. Be a man about it.

“Who was the affair with?”

“It was just...a woman. At a conference. We met in the bar. I was drunk. I made a mistake. It was stupid and senseless and careless of me. Sutton found out. Looking back, I wonder if Wilde tipped her off. I swore to her it was nothing, and we were finally getting things back on track.”

“You never asked how she knew?”

“Of course I did. She wouldn’t tell me. Wouldn’t talk to me at all, actually.”

“When was this affair?”

“More than a year ago. Before the baby died.”

“How did the blogger find out?”

“Supposedly, someone saw us in an elevator at the hotel and blabbed to him. We were kissing. At least that’s what I’m told.”

“You don’t remember this?”

“The evening is very, very blurry.”

“Do you often drink to forgetfulness?”