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smug. He likes that it comes off as smug. That is why he does it. He thinks itā€™s a good thingā€”smugness, intimidationā€”considering what he does for a living. He is a litigator at a Wall Street law firm, on track to being one of their youngest senior partners. He isnā€™t a criminal lawyer, but he is a great lawyer, as he would be the first to tell you. Iā€™m just hoping that Jakeā€™s type of hubris will help me now.

ā€œHi there,ā€ I say.

He doesnā€™t ask who it is. He knows who it is, even after all this time. He also knows something is really wrong for me to be calling him.

ā€œWhere are you?ā€ he says. ā€œAre you in New York?ā€

When I called Jake to tell him I was getting married, he said that one day Iā€™d show up back home ready to be together again. He believed that. And apparently he thinks today is that day.

ā€œSausalito.ā€ I pause, dreading the words I donā€™t want to say. ā€œI could use your help, Jake. I think I need a lawyerā€¦ā€

ā€œSoā€¦ youā€™re getting divorced?ā€

Itā€™s all I can do not to hang up the phone. Jake canā€™t help himself. Even though he was relieved when I called off the wedding, even though he married someone else four months later (and shortly thereafter divorced her), he liked to play the victim in our relationship. Jake held on to the narrative that because of my history, I was too scared to truly let him inā€”that I thought heā€™d leave me like my parents did. He never understood that I wasnā€™t scared of someone leaving me. I was scared that the wrong person would stay.

ā€œJake, my husbandā€™s the reason Iā€™m calling you,ā€ I say. ā€œHeā€™s in trouble.ā€

ā€œWhat did he do?ā€ he says.

Itā€™s the best I can hope for from him so I proceed to tell him the whole story, starting with some background information about Owenā€™s work, the investigation into The Shop and Owenā€™s bizarre disappearance, walking him through the dual visits from Grady Bradford and the FBI, and how the FBI didnā€™t know about Grady. I move him through how no one seems to know anything about where Owen is, or what he is planning nextā€”least of all Bailey and me.

ā€œAnd the daughterā€¦ sheā€™s with you?ā€ he says.

ā€œBailey, yes. Sheā€™s with me. Which is probably the last place she wants to be.ā€

ā€œSo he left her too?ā€

I donā€™t answer him.

ā€œWhatā€™s her full name?ā€ he says.

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 bullā€™s-eye.

ā€œFirst of all, donā€™t be too worried that the FBI didnā€™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?ā€

ā€œNo.ā€

ā€œThere will be. You should refer all law enforcement to me, at least until we know whatā€™s going on. Donā€™t say anything, just have them call me directly.ā€

ā€œI appreciate that. Thank you.ā€

ā€œDonā€™t mention it,ā€ he says. ā€œBut I gotta askā€¦ how wrapped up in this are you?ā€

ā€œWell, heā€™s my husband, so I would say intimately.ā€

ā€œTheyā€™re going to show up with search warrants,ā€ he says. ā€œIā€™m surprised they havenā€™t already. So, if there is anything that implicates you, you need to get it out of your house.ā€

ā€œI canā€™t be implicated,ā€ I say. ā€œI have nothing to do with this.ā€

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

ā€œJake, Iā€™m just trying to figure out where Owen is. Why he thought the only way out was to get away from here.ā€

ā€œHe probably doesnā€™t want to go to jail, for starters.ā€

ā€œNo, thatā€™s not it. He wouldnā€™t run because of that.ā€

ā€œSo whatā€™s your theory?ā€

ā€œHeā€™s trying to protect his daughter,ā€ I say.

ā€œFrom what?ā€

ā€œI donā€™t know. Maybe he thinks itā€™s going to ruin her life if her father is falsely accused. Maybe heā€™s off somewhere trying to prove heā€™s innocent.ā€

ā€œNot likely. Butā€¦ there is the possibility that something else is going on,ā€ he says.

ā€œLike what?ā€

ā€œLike worse things that heā€™s guilty of,ā€ he says.

ā€œHelpful, Jake,ā€ I say.

ā€œLook, Iā€™m not going to sugarcoat this. If Owen isnā€™t running from The Shop, he is probably running from what The Shop might reveal about him. The question is what that might beā€¦ā€ He pauses. ā€œI have a private investigator, a good one. Iā€™ll ask him to do some digging. But Iā€™m going to need you to email me Owenā€™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.ā€

I hear Jake start to bite on his pen. No one else in the world would decipher that is what he is doing, his secret habit. The one less-than-confident thing Jake does. But I can picture it as if I were sitting right there, staring at his mauled pen cap. Itā€™s a terrible thing to know everything about someone long after you want to.

ā€œAnd do this for me. Keep your phone near you in case I need to get in touch. But donā€™t answer for any numbers you donā€™t recognize.ā€

I think of Grady saying Owen threw his phone awayā€”that he threw away the phone with the only number for him Iā€™d recognize.

ā€œWhat if itā€™s Owen?ā€

ā€œOwenā€™s not calling right now,ā€ he says. ā€œYou know that.ā€

ā€œI donā€™t know that.ā€

ā€œI think you do.ā€

I donā€™t say anything. Even though I suspect heā€™s right, Iā€™m not going to tell Jake he is. Iā€™m not going to betray Owen in that way. Or Bailey.

ā€œAnd you need to figure out why he ran, something more specific than heā€™s trying to protect his kidā€¦ā€ he says. ā€œAnd you better figure it out quickly.

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