Page 35 of First Date: Divorce (Wyoming Marriage Association #1)

They walked toward town without talking. Not needing to confer to get to Jessa’s store.

“Thanks,” she said as they left the main path.

“For?” He looked over at her.

“The save. Career. You got me out of that corner.”

He shook his head. “I screwed up by putting you in that corner. Sorry.” He smiled slightly. “I suspect you’ve gotten a few blows thrown at you in those sessions left over from my ex.”

They walked a couple minutes.

“Maybe you’ve gotten some that belong to my mom. Not blows. Frustrations.” She considered that. “And maybe some — blows or frustrations or both — that should be aimed at myself.”

His raised eyebrows invited her to continue. She didn’t accept the invitation.

They were almost to Jessa’s.

No time to get into it now, even if she knew what she’d say.

*

K.D. had her hand on the office door when it started to swing open. She retreated, turning her foot slightly, causing a sideways lurch. Eric clasped her hand, drawing her back from the door and steadying her at the same time.

Jessa emerged. “C’mon in. I saw you on the security system, but Ellyn and I were watching the video and I was slow coming to meet you. Cully should be here any second.”

Grinning, Ellyn turned the screen toward them.

Music started. The Wedding March .

A young woman who could only be a bride. Sure, the dress and veil gave it away, but so did the glow.

Her.

The video of her wedding to Eric.

No. It wasn’t real.

She met Eric’s eyes for an instant, then turned away, taking a chair without a view of the video.

Talking over the music, she said, “Jessa, we need bags to take back so it will look like we’ve been shopping. Can you—?”

“Absolutely.”

The store owner stood as Cully entered. He kissed her temple in passing. “Any leftovers?”

“Are you here for food or information, Grainger?” Eric asked as Jessa waved and closed the door behind her.

“Both.” He handed their phones to them, adding to Eric, “Before I forget, here’s a message for you from Pauline about her return time Wednesday morning. It’ll be worth my life if I can’t swear I delivered it. You’re my witness, K.D. So, here’s my update.

“First, the money you saw on their records, Eric, looks like the rental payment on their old building in Oregon. I got with the county guy who went over their books both for the original lease and when they applied for long-term. Same weird figure showed up.

“Speaking of Oregon, the authorities there had nothing but good things to say about the organization. Although, when I hinted at something going on with a divorce lawyer in connection with former Marriage-Save clients, they got real squirrelly. Repeated a couple times that it came through financial checks squeaky clean. Since our guy said the same, I’m willing to believe that.

“We’re continuing to gather information on Bledsoe’s cases. Child custody has not been an issue for any of the Marriage-Save alums whom Bledsoe represented, which is weird statistically.”

“Melody asks a lot of questions about kids,” K.D. said. “But any counselor would with what we’ve told her.”

She was aware of Cully shooting a look toward Eric, who focused on her.

Cully continued, “All-in-all, an individual inside Marriage-Save looks more likely than the organization. From the criminal’s standpoint, it’s safer, too.

Fewer people who know, fewer people to talk.

One insider, selling info to Gail Bledsoe and neither’s going to talk and give away their money-maker. ”

Eric said, “Whether from Melody or any of the others, information from the files would give Bledsoe a lead on which couples were most vulnerable. But she wouldn’t waste time on couples who weren’t a big payday, so she’s got to know the financials.

And Harvey, the business manager, has access to the couples’ finances. ”

“But not their counseling records,” K.D. said.

“And the opposite applies to Melody and the other counselors, bringing us back to where we were,” he said.

“Yes.” She stretched the word out.

“I hear a but on the horizon behind that yes.”

“We’ve been focusing on people’s direct access.

But in a small place like this, is that necessary?

Would Bledsoe need firm financial information or to see the exact counseling reports?

Or would it be enough for someone to hand over names and addresses, saying this couple could crack and has money, and off you go.

Information someone could pick up in conversation, say. ”

Cully groaned. “Hoped to narrow our suspect pool, not widen it to anybody.”

“Not anyone. They need to have close ties to both the business and counseling sides.”

“Albert?” Cully asked.

“Possible.” She turned to Eric. “Or Harvey, the business manager. Was he wearing a yellow and pink shirt Saturday?”

“Yes.”

“He was in the hallway, talking with Melody, another counselor, and Lily. Might be nothing or it might indicate the sort of close ties we’re looking for. If we had more time—”

“You don’t,” Cully said. “But we still have our ace up our sleeve. If Gail Bledsoe contacts you after you leave Marriage-Save, K.D., and wants you to take Eric to the cleaners, that’ll give us proof and great leverage.”

“True.” She said the next words as they needed to be said — practical and realistic. “If I make a big show of leaving Eric, word will get around Bardville.”

“Word will get around if you make a small show, too. Or no show at all.” Cully added.

“There’s another possibility,” Eric said slowly.

They hadn’t talked about this, but she knew immediately what he meant. And he knew she knew.

He tipped his head toward her, inviting her to go ahead.

“What if it’s not someone working for Marriage-Save.

” She had their attention. “There’s a couple who goes there regularly.

They’ve also attended other retreats and counseling sessions all over the country.

They say — brag — they can tell the couples who will repair their marriage and those who won’t.

They’re very observant, ask a lot of questions, and could assess how well-to-do couples are. ”

“Now, that’s interesting,” Cully said. “But would they call attention to themselves by being that open about it?”

“Yes,” Eric said. “It’s either part of who they are or it’s part of who they’re pretending to be.”

“Give me anything you’ve got about them. Names, places, dates.”

K.D. did. It wasn’t much. “I’ll see what else I can get—”

“We will,” Eric corrected. “Can sound like we’re looking for other possible programs. If it’s you alone, it undercuts that you want the divorce.”

“Good—” Cully started.

But K.D. beat him to it. “Good point.”

He let his mouth stay open an extra half beat.

C’mon. It wasn’t that surprising she’d acknowledged Eric’s point.

*

Lily buzzed them in the front door of Marriage-Save on their return from “shopping.”

“I see your schedule calls for free time before your next session. May I suggest a massage?”

K.D. jumped on it, with a clear image of Harvey’s office door near the massage room. “That sounds lovely. We’ll go right there.”

“Oh, no. You want the robes from your room. They feel heavenly, and there’s no good place to put your clothes in the massage room. Besides, you need to drop off your bags.”

K.D. had forgotten about the shopping bags, since she didn’t care about them.

Under Lily’s expectant smile, there was no choice but to say, “You’re absolutely right,” head up to their room and change, one at a time, in the bathroom.

“I look like a polar bear on stilts,” she muttered to her image. At least the fluffy white robes had pockets, so K.D. slipped in gloves and other tools she might need.

Lily rewarded them by upping the wattage on her smile as they went past the reception desk in the direction of the massage room.

Once in the hallway, K.D. told Eric in a low voice, “You go get a massage, I’m going to check out Harvey’s office.”

“Nope. I’m going with you.”

“It’s better cover if one of us goes for a massage.”

“Then you go.”

She glared.

He winked.

Then he took her arm, hurrying her past the massage room, and around another corner to the business office.

He pulled a plastic card out of his robe pocket and fiddled with the doorknob. She stood beside him, masking what he did with all the fluffy whiteness that encased her.

“Got it.”

“How do you know—?”

“The proverbial misspent youth, remember.”

He eased the door open and they both slipped in — as much as polar bears could slip. They were probably leaving a trail of fluffy white fibers a mile wide.

He went right to the computer. She pulled on gloves from her pocket, locked the door — which wouldn’t stop someone long, but would give them warning — then started on cabinets that flanked a loveseat on the far side of the room.

“In.” Eric said quietly from the desk. He dealt with the fingerprint issue by using a tissue spread over the keys as he scrolled and clicked.

She went to his side. “Good. Files must all be in the computer. Drawers are mostly empty.”

He opened a couple financial files, showing account numbers, payment status, and credit rating.

She left him to it while she checked the desk drawers and learning only that Harvey had allergies.

“Nothing more here,” Eric said.

“Try his email.”

“Good idea. Ah. Something from Melody…” His breath streamed out. “About a charity softball game next weekend. Maybe—”

A rattle came from the hall door.

Their eyes met for an instant. Eric started closing down the computer, while she looked around.

He’d said the window creaked and with someone right outside the hall door—

One other door — bathroom? closet? If it was locked…

It wasn’t.

A closet. Good sized, thank heavens, with shelves for office supplies down one side.

With the computer in its shut-down routine, Eric stepped into the closet ahead of her, she pulled the door closed, releasing the knob one silent fraction of an inch at a time.

They heard the hall door open. Then, outside the closet door, whispers. Too low to identify gender, much less individuals.

Clearly, Eric wasn’t the only one with a misspent youth.

Because anyone with a legitimate reason to be in the office wouldn’t need to whisper.

Then something that sounded oddly like a giggle.

While K.D. tried to decide if she’d heard that correctly, another sound came.

A lock sliding into place.

Another giggle. Or maybe a chuckle.

Then more whispers, becoming increasingly muffled. Followed by the hall door closing.

And silence.