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“It’s a theory, I’ll give you that. But this is why it’s always a good idea to check in with your friendly neighborhood law enforcement. The feds were investigating your client for tax evasion and possible money laundering.”

Zach felt his mouth fall open. It took him a moment to remember how to use it.

“But…”

Cameron waited politely.

Zach pulled himself together. “Are you saying Alton could have faked his own death?”

Cameron shrugged. “Too soon to tell. The passenger, Marcus Topper hasn’t regained consciousness yet. The driver’s body—presumably Beacher—was too badly burned for immediate identification. Forensics will have to check dental records, etc. in order to verify just who our victim really was.”

Chapter Thirteen

“It’s almost a relief,” Zach was saying.

Flint’s, “Isit?” was dubious.

They were in Flint’s Ford Explorer, driving the steep and windy road leading to the Beacher—well, Kaschak—estate on Mount de Sello to interview Alton’s widow.

Maybewidow.

“Hell, yes, it’s a relief to think maybe Iwasn’tresponsible for someone’s death!”

Flint, eyes on the rock-strewn road, was silent.

“Why? What are you thinking?” Zach frowned.

Flint gave a brief shake of his head.

Zach’s rising spirits sank. “What’s that mean?”

“It means, if Beacher faked his own death, this setup is even more dangerous than we thought. If he faked his death, we don’t know where this is headed or what he has planned.”

“We know he can’t be planning to murder his wife. A dead man can’t inherit.”

“He can’t be a murder suspect, that’s for sure.”

True. Zach thought it over, admitted, “It’s possible Alton set up trusts or financial entities whichwouldbenefit from Zora’s death. And, if he’s thought this through, he probably has an accomplice who could funnel those funds to him.”

“Exactly.” Flint’s tone was grim.

Neither had much to say after that. Zach was lost in thought, reviewing every minute he’d spent with Alton, wondering why he hadn’t realized how totally off the situation—not to mention Alton—was. But that was the trouble. Hehadknown the situation was off. He’d ignored his instincts, let his doubts and concerns be soothed by all that lovely money.

Honest to God, he had no one but himself to blame for the position he was now in. Even Flint had recognized—

In fact, how unfair was it that he was still thinkingeven Flint, like Flint was the half-assed amateur. Flint had not only been right about Alton and the entire ridiculous setup, he’d gone out of his way to warn Zach—and then tried to help when Zach, refusing to listen, had gotten in over his head. Flint was the boots-on-the-ground professional here. Maybe he didn’t dress for success, maybe he was a little rough around the edges—well, and there again, how the hell would Zach know how rough around the edges Flint was?

He’d made all these assumptions—largely based on Ben’s opinion of Flint, if he was honest. Jeez, he hadn’t even noticed Flint was gay! It had never even occurred to him.

As he recalled Flint’s comments about being snubbed at Jack of Hearts, Zach could have sunk through the heavy-duty WeatherTech floormat. Talk about not being able to see beyond the end of your nose!

No wonder Pop thought Zach ought to stick to accounting.

“What are you blaming yourself for now?” Flint’s voice jolted Zach out of his self-recriminations.

“Huh? Me? Nothing.”

Flint’s mouth curved sardonically. “Come on. I’m getting to know that I-choose-to-die-in-trial-by-combat expression. What’s eating you?”