Gabe had a mind for such details. His personal and professional life had long been a study in discretion. In his line of work, it was de rigueur to cover one’s tracks, to erase the paper trail. The firm had an IT department that would wipe the phones of lawyers upon request. Every few months, Gabe would have his e-mails, his texts, and his phone calls permanently deleted. He wasn’t exactly a Luddite, but he preferred to leave such matters to the professionals. He’d hand the device over as soon as Natalie was dealt with.

Shortly after their breakup in the Italian restaurant, Gabe had deleted his sugar-dating profile. He had chosen the site because of its privacy guarantees. When a member deactivated his account, his record was immediately and irrevocably expunged. No one would ever see Gabe’s impressive profile or read the flirtatious messages he’d exchanged with several women. And there would be no trace of his connection to Natalie Murphy. So no one would suspect him.

The night before, as he lay next to his sleeping wife, he’d come up with a plan. A break-in gone wrong would cover all the bases. It would get rid of Natalie, along with her laptop, phone, the necklace (he was pretty sure she was lying about the break-in), and any other traces of Gabe’s presence in her life. He had not been present when she signed the lease on the apartment, so the landlord could not ID him. And the real estate agent, Calvin, would never betray him. Gabe had always given Natalie envelopes of cash to cover rent and expenses. He had not made love to her in her bed for over two weeks. Hopefully, the girl had washed her sheets since then.

His mind flitted to the last time he’d been with her in that double bed pressed against the window in the cramped studio. She’d made them screwdrivers and they’d frolicked between the sheets like tipsy teenagers. Natalie had been fun and refreshing, had made him feel young, sexy, and invincible. He hated that it had to end this way, but she wouldn’t suffer. Quick and painless. He’d been adamant about that. A stab of regret constricted his heart muscle.

But this was her fault, he reminded himself. Natalie had broken their arrangement, had come after his daughter, his family. She was crazy and drunk and could not be reasoned with. An overhead sign announced the exit that would take him to the Bronx Zoo. If he took it, he would be sealing Natalie’s fate. And his. If he drove on, he’d be allowing Natalie to destroy his family, his reputation, his life.

He took the exit.

43

The High Line

Nat waited all day for Gabe to contact her. She tidied the apartment a bit, gathering the empty take-out containers and placing the empty vodka and wine bottles near the door to be taken out to the recycling bins. But she was too distracted, too lacking in motivation to do a thorough clean. The footprint was still on her bed, though she’d slept on top of it. It was faint, but it was there. The only evidence she had that Cole Doberinsky had invaded her space.