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he needed to do was wait.

“My only mistake was having Cush change the zoning from residential to commercial.”

“Because of the hearings?”

“No,” Marc scoffed as he lifted his drink. “There were no hearings. It was a free-for-all back then and we submitted false papers. That part was easy.”

“So why was zoning your only mistake?”

“It was a good idea at first.” Marc sipped, mistaking her scrutiny for admiration. “There’s no valuation for commercial properties so the claim I filed could be for whatever amount I chose, and it was.” He chuckled. “We inflated the crap out of that property value. But then they changed the rules.”

There was some hope the restrictions would be lifted eventually so Marc had waited. But he’d needed money to buy land for the Berkshire development and he didn’t have it. He’d known he couldn’t wait any longer, so he’d submitted the claim. When the payment had come through, he’d had Cush travel to Freeport to deposit the money in a special account.

“But it wasn’t enough,” Marc concluded. “We were short a couple hundred thousand.”

“And that’s why you took out a mortgage on the Dewberry house?” Jill asked, careful to keep the resentment from her voice.

To her surprise, Marc looked shocked. “You’re not still mad about that, are you, babe? It was business, that’s all. You were never supposed to find out.”

“Sure. I understand.” Though it was difficult, Jill flashed an appreciative smile. “But I interrupted. Please go on.”

“Since you’re at the shore now, you can set up a base. Scout out damaged properties and buy them for almost nothing. Send me pictures and I’ll have them declared uninhabitable, even if they’re not. We can fix that paperwork to say anything we want. Then we’ll have Cush submit the claim—”

“Because he’s done it before,” Jill added. “Submitted a false claim?”

“Yeah. Some of those federal programs are so big they can’t possibly review every claim—they just pay out.” He leaned back, clearly pleased with himself. “It’s the easiest money we’ll ever make.”

“You did all that?” Jill squeezed her hands together on her lap to keep them from shaking. “On the Mantoloking properties? You filed a fake claim, and it paid?”

Marc preened. “I did. And I would have submitted a claim for the Dewberry Beach house too, but I would have been caught. But you don’t have to worry—federal programs will pay out forever. All they care about is the right documents.”

Jill beamed, and this time it was genuine. She’d gotten what she needed. She gathered her things and stood. “Great. I think we’re finished here.”

“Where are you going?” Marc’s brow creased with confusion.

Jill ignored him. Instead, she gestured to Ellie, who had been seated at the table behind them, at the second table Jill had reserved. “Did you get it?”

“I did indeed.” Ellie’s smile was triumphant as she rose. “Every bit.”

“Then let’s get out of here.” Jill grabbed her coat and turned to leave.

“Wait,” Marc commanded. Other diners had turned toward them, so he lowered his voice. “What is this? What’s going on?”

Jill paused then, to savor the expression on his face, the indignation and confusion. It was glorious.

“Since you asked so nicely,” she said as she slipped her coat on, “couple of things. First, you admitted to defrauding the federal government, which is bad.”

“So bad.” Ellie shook her head sadly.

“Then you told me you intended to do it again, which is worse.” Jill shrugged. “But I’m just a Jersey Girl so I can’t be sure. So I guess I’ll have to send the video Ellie took on her phone to Chase Bennett’s office and have him look at it. You remember Chase? Turns out he knows a lot about financial fraud and he still has federal connections.”

Marc’s face turned a shade of purple that she’d never seen before. And it was delightful.

“Jilly…” he croaked.

She laughed and it felt wonderful. “You are in soooo much trouble.”

She walked through the restaurant with Ellie at her side.

“Next time can I wear a wire?” Ellie asked. “I’ve always wanted to.”

“F’get it.” Jill leaned into her friend. “That’s all I can take.”

Twenty-Five

After returning from the restaurant, Jill headed for the bathroom and turned on the shower. Lunch with Marc had been tense and now she was exhausted. It wasn’t only what he’d done—it was the person she’d become when she was with him. It was unnerving how quickly she’d changed for him, how ready she’d been to abandon who she was to become what he’d wanted her to be.

Jill stood in the shower for a long time, feeling the hot water warm her skin and trying to wash away the chill.

When she emerged from the bathroom sometime later, wrapped in a bathrobe, Ellie was ready. She had her laptop open and a look of deep concentration on her face.

“What’s all this?” Jill asked.

“I’ve been busy. I uploaded the video to someplace safe.” Ellie gestured to a flash drive. “I made a physical copy too, just in case.”

“Thanks, Ellie.” Jill made her way to the couch and collapsed.

“Can you believe he admitted to everything?” Ellie swept her hair back, her voice filled with excitement. “He’s not nearly as smart as he thinks, which makes me wonder what else he’s done. I wonder if we should look into it?”

Jill closed her eyes. “Sure.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m just tired.” Jill straightened. They weren’t finished yet. “I typed up an explanation and I think we should attach the video and mail it to someone important, but I’m not sure who. What do you think?”

“The judge, maybe? The one who mediated your divorce?”

Jill took a minute to consider, then shook her head. “I don’t think so. What Marc did seems bigger than that.”

“So what do you want to do?” Ellie rested her back against the couch. “Somebody needs to see this.”

“I was kidding before, when I mentioned Chase Bennett, because it was fun to see Marc scared. But now I don’t think the idea is so crazy. Chase was a big deal before he retired, so chances

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