Click here to Download The Last Thing He Told Me PDF Book by Laura Dave having PDF Size 4.9 MB and No of Pages257.
I was still living in New York City then. I was living three thousand miles from Sausalito, the small Northern California town that I now call home. Sausalito is on the other side of the Golden Gate from San Francisco, but a world away from city life. Quiet, charming. Sleepy. It’s the place that Owen and Bailey have called home for more than a decade.
The Last Thing He Told Me PDF Book by Laura Dave
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It is also the polar opposite of my previous life, which kept me squarely in Manhattan, in a lofted storefront on Greene Street in SoHo—a small space with an astronomical rent I never quite believed I could aord. I used it as both my workshop and my showroom. I turn wood. That’s what I do for work. People usually make a face when I tell them this is my job (however I try to describe it.
Images of their high school woodshop class coming to mind. Being a woodturner is a little like that, and nothing like that. I like to describe it as sculpting, but instead of sculpting clay, I sculpt wood. I come by the profession naturally. My grandfather was a woodturner—an excellent one, at that—and his work was at the center of my life for as far back as I can remember.
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He was at the center of my life for as far back as I can remember, having raised me mostly on his own. We sit in the kitchen, at the small breakfast table in the sun nook, drinking coee spiked with bourbon. Jules is on her second mug, her oversize sweatshirt concealing her small frame, her hair pulled back in two low pigtails.
They make her look like she is trying to get away with something, sneaking some more bourbon into the mug. They make her look a little like her fourteen-year-old self, the girl I met our rst day of high school. My grandfather had just moved us from Tennessee to Peekskill, New York—a small town on the Hudson River. Jules’s family had moved there from New York City.
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Her father was an investigative journalist for the New York Times—a Pulitzer Prize–winning journalist—not that Jules had any airs about her. We met while applying for after-school jobs at Lucky’s, a local dog-walking service. We were both hired. And we took to walking our assigned dogs together every afternoon. We must have been a sight: two small girls, fteen rowdy dogs surrounding us at any given time.
I was a freshman at the public high school. Jules was at a prestigious private school a few miles away. But those afternoons were just the two of us together. I’m still not sure how we would have gotten through high school without each other. We were so removed from each other’s actual lives that we told each other everything. Jules once compared it to how you conde in a stranger you meet on a plane.
From the beginning, this is what we’ve been to each other: safe, airborne. Complete with a thirty-thousand-foot perspective. I’m not going to sit there thinking about what Grady said, and all the things he seemed to leave out, which are bothering me more. How did he know so much about Owen? Maybe Avett wasn’t the only one who they’ve been following closely for the last year and change. The Last Thing He Told Me PDF Book
Maybe Grady’s nice guy act— helping me with Bailey’s custody, oering advice—was so I’d slip up and tell him something Owen wouldn’t want him to know. Did I slip up? I don’t think so, even as I go back through our conversation. But I’m not going to risk doing it in the future, not with Grady, or with anyone else. I’m going to gure out what’s going on with Owen rst.
I take a left o the docks and head toward my workshop. I need to make a stop rst though at Owen’s friend’s house. It’s a stop that I’m not particularly eager to make, but if anyone will have insight into what Owen is thinking, into what I might be missing, it’s Carl. Carl Conrad: Owen’s closest friend in Sausalito. And one of the only people on whom Owen and I disagree.
Owen thinks I don’t give him a fair shake, and maybe that’s true. He’s funny and smart and totally embraced me from the minute I arrived in Sausalito. But he also habitually cheats on his wife, Patricia, and I don’t like knowing that. Owen doesn’t like knowing that either, but he says he’s able to separate it out in his mind because Carl has been such a good friend to him. The Last Thing He Told Me PDF Book
“The investigator I was telling you about, and he knows what he is doing, says that no Owen Michaels exists that ts your husband’s biography. There are several Owen Michaels who grew up in Newton, Massachusetts, and a few who attended Princeton University. But the only Owen Michaels on record who grew up in Owen’s hometown and attended Princeton is seventy-eight years old and lives with his partner, Theo Silverstein, in Provincetown, out on Cape Cod.”
I’m having troubling breathing. I sit down on the hallway carpet, my back against the wall. I can feel it. A knocking in my head, a knocking in my heart. No Owen Michaels is your Owen Michaels. The words moving through me, unable to nd a home. We walk quickly across campus toward the main research library, which Cheryl tells us is most likely to house the school yearbooks.
If we can get our hands on the yearbooks from the years Owen was at UT, that could be the key to getting through this list as quickly as possible. The yearbooks will oer not just student names, but they’ll oer photographs too. They’ll potentially have a photograph of a young Owen, if he did anything at school besides fail math. The Last Thing He Told Me PDF Book
We head inside the Perry-Castañeda Library, which is enormous—six stories of books and maps and cards and computer labs—and head to the research librarian’s desk. She informs us that we will need to put a request in at the archives to get the hard copies of the school yearbooks from that far back, but we can access the archive on a library computer.
Nicholas then spent the better part of the next three decades ghting on behalf of this organization—his work leading to acquittals or mistrials on eighteen counts of murder, twenty-eight indictments for drug tracking, sixtyone counts of extortion and fraud. He proved himself invaluable and got wealthy in the process. But as the DEA and the FBI kept losing case after case against him, he became a target too.
He remained unafraid they’d nd anything that added up to his being anything more than a devoted attorney. Until something went wrong. His grown daughter was walking down the street on her way home from her job, her beloved job. She was a clerk for the Texas Supreme Court—a year and change out of law school, a new mother. She was walking home, after a long week, when a car struck her. The Last Thing He Told Me PDF Book Download
“Not any of the specics, Owen never would have told him, but he knew he hired someone who came out of nowhere. No references to speak of, no ties to the tech world. Owen said at the time that Avett just wanted the best coder he could nd, but I think Avett was looking for an angle. He wanted someone he could control, if it turned out he needed that control. And it turned out he did.”
“You think Owen knew what was happening at The Shop but he couldn’t stop it?” I say. “That he stayed there hoping he could x it, get the software operational, before he got caught in the crosshairs.” “I do,” he says. “That’s a pretty specic guess,” I say. “I know your husband pretty specically,” he says. “And he’s been watching his back for such a long time that he knew if The Shop scandal touched him, he’d have to disappear all over again.
Bailey would have to start over. And this time, of course, she’d have to be told the history. Not ideal to say the least…” He pauses. “Let alone what you would’ve had to give up, assuming you chose to go with them.” The rain abates as we turn down Ranch Road. Charlie doesn’t say much, but he tells me that his parents bought their Mediterranean estate nestled on the shores of the lake a couple of years ago—the year Nicholas got out of prison, the year before his mother died. The Last Thing He Told Me PDF Book Download
This was his mother’s dream house, he says, this private retreat, but Nicholas has stayed there since her death, on his own. I learn later that it cost them a cool ten million dollars—this estate which, as I see on a plaque at the foot of the driveway, Charlie’s mother, Meredith, named THE SANCTUARY. It is easy to see why she has chosen this name. The estate is enormous, wildly beautiful, and private.
Entirely private. Charlie enters a code and the metal gates open to reveal a cobblestone driveway, at least a quarter of a mile long, that slowly winds its way to a small guardhouse. The guardhouse is covered in vines, making it inconspicuous. The main house is less inconspicuous. It looks like it belongs on the French Riviera—complete with cascading balconies, an antique-tile roof, a stone facade.
Most notable are the gorgeous bay windows running at least eight feet tall, welcoming you, inviting you in. I don’t know what he expects me to say, but he looks at me, perhaps just to make sure I’m listening. “These gentlemen at the head of Harris’s organization decided I showed the kind of prowess that was integral to keeping their workforce… working. So they ew me and my wife to South Florida on a private plane. The Last Thing He Told Me PDF Book Free
I had never own rst class before, let alone on a private plane. But they ew me there on their plane and put us up in a waterfront hotel suite with our own butler and made me a business proposition, one that felt dicult to say no to.” He pauses. “I’m not quite sure why I mention the plane or the oceanfront butler. Maybe to suggest to you I was more than slightly out of my depth with my employers.
Not that I’m saying that I didn’t have a choice in working for them. I believe you always have a choice. And the choice I made was to defend people who, by law, deserve a proper defense. There’s honor in that. I never lied to my family about it. I spared them some of the details, but they knew the general picture and they knew I didn’t cross any lines.
I did my job. I took care of my family. At the end of the day, it’s not all that dierent from working for a tobacco company,” he says. “The same moral calculation needs to be made.” Signal. Why does that sound familiar? It comes back to me: the three of us eating dumplings at the Ferry Building a few months back, Owen taking Bailey’s phone and telling her he was putting an app on it. An encryption app called Signal.
He told her nothing on the internet ever goes away. He made some terrible joke about if she ever sends sexy messages (he actually said sexy), she should use the app. And she pretended to throw up her dumplings. And then Owen got serious. He said if there were a phone call or a text she wanted to disappear, this was the app she should use. He said it twice so she took it in. The Last Thing He Told Me PDF Book Free
I’ll keep it on there forever, if you never use the word sexy around me again, she said. Deal, he said. Now, Bailey is talking fast. “When I said hello, he was already talking. He didn’t say where he was calling from. He didn’t ask if I was okay. He said he had twenty-two seconds. I remember that. Twenty-two. And then he said that he was sorry, sorrier than he could tell me, that he’d organized his life so he would never have to make this phone call.”