I hear him typing on his computer, taking notes, making one of the charts that used to cover our living room floor. Owen, now, in its bull’s-eye.

“First of all, don’t be too worried that the FBI didn’t know about the guy from the U.S. Marshals Service coming to talk to you. They could all be lying to you. And beyond that, there are often turf wars between different law enforcement agencies, especially when the scope of the investigation is still in question. Any word yet from anyone at the SEC?”

“No.”

“There will be. You should refer all law enforcement to me, at least until we know what’s going on. Don’t say anything, just have them call me directly.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says. “But I gotta ask… how wrapped up in this are you?”

“Well, he’s my husband, so I would say intimately.”

“They’re going to show up with search warrants,” he says. “I’m surprised they haven’t already. So, if there is anything that implicates you, you need to get it out of your house.”

“I can’t be implicated,” I say. “I have nothing to do with this.”

I feel myself getting defensive. And I feel an uptick of anxiety, thinking of anyone showing up at my house with search warrants—thinking of the duffel bag they would find, still untouched, hidden beneath the kitchen sink.

“Jake, I’m just trying to figure out where Owen is. Why he thought the only way out was to get away from here.”

“He probably doesn’t want to go to jail, for starters.”

“No, that’s not it. He wouldn’t run because of that.”

“So what’s your theory?”

“He’s trying to protect his daughter,” I say.

“From what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he thinks it’s going to ruin her life if her father is falsely accused. Maybe he’s off somewhere trying to prove he’s innocent.”

“Not likely. But… there is the possibility that something else is going on,” he says.

“Like what?”

“Like worse things that he’s guilty of,” he says.

“Helpful, Jake,” I say.

“Look, I’m not going to sugarcoat this. If Owen isn’t running from The Shop, he is probably running from what The Shop might reveal about him. The question is what that might be…” He pauses. “I have a private investigator, a good one. I’ll ask him to do some digging. But I’m going to need you to email me Owen’s entire history. Anything you know. Where he went to school, where he grew up. And dates. Everything. Where and when his daughter was born.”