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He headed for the bedroom, dressed, and returned to the kitchen, where he popped his frittatas in the microwave, poured his coffee, spread out the drying pages of theEnsenada Signal—and nearly sprayed the cupboards with caffeine.

TOYMAKER ALTON BEACHER DEAD IN CAR ACCIDENT

Zach’s breath stuck in his throat. His horrified gaze was fixed to each dire letter of the stark banner headline.

ALTON. BEACHER. DEAD.

No. No. No. This is a mistake.

His heart was pounding so hard, little black spots danced before his eyes. He could barely make out the words of the newspaper article. It did not sound like there was much chance of a mistake.

Wealthy toymaker Alton Beacher died early Tuesday morning in a fiery car crash on Paradise Road on Mount del Sello in Monterey, California. Beacher appears to have been behind the wheel when his Porsche Boxster swerved on the winding road and went off the embankment. The vehicle’s second occupant, identified as Marcus Topper, an employee and member of Beacher’s household, was thrown clear and has been taken to Monterey Memorial Hospital. His condition is listed as critical.

Marcus Topper? Who was Marcus Topper? Was that the butler? Why had Alton been on that road at that time of day with his butler? Where was Chico? Why wasn’t Chico driving?

Monterey County Sheriff’s Office has not yet identified the cause of the accident.

“She killed him,” Zach whispered.

But it was so much worse than that—as bad as that was.Hewas to blame for this.Hehad failed to protect his client.

Not only that, he had begun to believe his client was out to get the woman who had just murdered him.

His cell phone rang, the sound shrill in the tiny kitchen, and Zach jumped. He looked around wildly. It took him a moment to locate his phone on the table. A glance at the screen showed a local number he didn’t recognize.

He pressed Accept, answering with a cautious, “Zach speaking.”

Flint said, “Have you seen the news this morning?”

Zach gulped out, “Just now.”

“We need to talk.”

Zach said huskily, “Yes.” But really, did they? Flint had got it about as wrong as you could—and Zach hadn’t done much better. Zach needed to go to the police and share everything he knew about the case.

“When can you get here?”

“I—I’m about to leave now.”

“I’ll see you at my office.”

“Okay. I guess?”

“Zachariah?”

“I’m here.”

“Stay sharp.”

“Stay…”

Flint snapped, “Watch your driving!”

“Of course. Right. Yes.” Zach spoke automatically. He was wondering if Flint thought he was a target as well. No, more likely, Flint recognized that Zach was deeply shocked and maybe not at his…well, sharpest.

Not at his sharpest? That defined his performance on this case from the beginning.

“I’ll see you when I get there.” Zach disconnected.