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“ D id you know that Gerald Rivers is sixty-eight years old?” Reese asked suddenly.

Hayes looked up from his cell and worked his shoulders tiredly. “No. But I never saw him, remember?”

“He looks older than that, now that I think about it. But it just occurred to me…he’s past retirement age already.

” She waved a hand to stem the reply he might have made.

“I know people often work beyond that, but the majority of them do so out of need. There are always those who are financially stable and just want to stay busy, but I can’t help but wonder how much longer he’ll be acting as the trustee for Ben. ”

He cocked his head as if considering the idea. “Someone else at the firm would take over, I suspect.”

“Sure. But under his oversight in recent years, the trust fund has taken a major hit.”

“Greenley would be more directly responsible for that,” Hayes pointed out. He got up and took his empty bottle of water to the trash in the kitchenette to discard it.

“Yes, he also may have benefited from it. But Rivers would have had to approve the change the investment strategy.” And ultimately, Julia, too.

It might have been the decreasing funds that had garnered her aunt’s closer scrutiny.

“That liquor could have been sent from any number of disgruntled clients. But none would have reason to name me on the card unless the killer is also somehow involved with the trust.”

“That someone would also have to know you’d been talking to Greenley.” Hayes returned to the table but stood behind his chair as if loath to sit down again. “Could have been one of the other diners.”

“Coincidence again,” she noted.

“Otherwise, Greenley told someone after he spoke with you. Detective Usher would have a data dump on his cell by now. Or, if he had other phones in the office, all of them.”

“If he does, it hasn’t tempered his suspicion of me.”

“Rereading the Thorne interviews refreshed my memory. He mentioned no support system, no friends of note. His activities while in the facility were TV and working out. Because of the stolen identities he used, I probed his knowledge of computers and the web. He didn’t seem interested in either.

A check of his library and computer privileges showed he didn’t utilize them inside. ”

“Just another indicator that he needed help to acquire the fake IDs. But one can buy those, if they know where to look.” She mulled that over for a moment. “He just had to know the right people to ask.”

“What I was thinking. So I reviewed his former workplaces. Entry-level positions, for the most part. He never stayed long in any of them. Makes you wonder how he supported himself.”

“Was he a seller as well as a drug user?” Reese’s energy and interest were flagging. But she was dreading sleep.

“If so, he was never caught at it. If there’s anything I missed, I’m not seeing it. So I switched my efforts to delving into Sedgewick.”

He had her attention now. “And?”

“A lot of public accolades. I checked a local legal resource center. Dr. Sedgewick also provides court-ordered mental health evaluations.”

“Before his killing spree, Stephen Thorne had at least two court-ordered psych evals.” When Hayes sent her a look, she gave a small smile. “I know how to search court records, too.”

His gaze lingered long enough to summon an answering warmth.

“I don’t doubt it. I found this image particularly interesting, however.

” He sat and brought up an online photo on his laptop to show her.

“It’s from a client appreciation party from four years ago at Ingersoll Partners Wealth Management. ”

When Reese leaned over to see it better, Hayes zoomed in on two people in the photo. Stunned, she could only stare. Greenley and Sedgewick were shown in an animated conversation. “What I wouldn’t give for his client list. And the dates each one originated.”

“I’m guessing Usher has that, too. But he wouldn’t know of the doctor’s indirect connection to you, or the trust.”

“I didn’t see that when I looked at their webpage.”

“I used an internet archive site to go to previous years. You’re familiar with them?” She nodded. Reese used them frequently when researching for an article. “I think I’ve hit a wall, though.” He set the cell down and worked his shoulders tiredly. “It’s after midnight. We should probably turn in.”

“You take the bedroom.” She turned back to the site she’d been scrolling through on her laptop.

“Not going to happen.”

“Sofa sleepers are notoriously uncomfortable. Not to mention, it’s probably not going to be long enough for your frame. I can just curl up on the couch.” Reese already knew that sleep would take a long time to arrive. She could continue working for a while and at least be somewhat productive.

“It won’t be my first time on a sofa bed. That was often the only option when I was a kid.”

She slid him a glance. “Guessing you weren’t six-one then.”

“Six-two.”

Reese stifled a smile. “My mistake.” He seemed implacable on the subject, so when he carried his duffel bag into the bathroom, she got up and unplugged her laptop to take it into the bedroom.

There was just the solitary bathroom, she belatedly realized.

Not that she wouldn’t be adequately covered in her sleep attire, but any trips to it would involve tiptoeing around the outspread sofa and a sleeping Hayes.

A mental image obligingly bloomed at the thought, and Reese shoved it away as she plugged the computer into an outlet in the base of the bedside lamp.

Just another specter that would haunt her when sleep refused to descend.

Although, if she had to choose between picturing a half-naked Hayes and them getting nearly blown up today, it wasn’t a difficult decision.

She went back out into the other room, grabbed her bags, and took them to the bedroom. Reese sat on the mattress, laid one of the pillows across her lap, and set the laptop on it, resuming her search. She heard him reenter the other room. Listened to the sounds of him making up the extra bed.

And then something on the screen had her leaning closer, her breath clogging in her lungs. She flipped through pages on the site, checking and rechecking the information she’d just seen. Finally, Reese said, “Hayes.” Her voice was little more than a croak, but his reply was instant.

“I’m not reading you a bedtime story.”

“You need to see this.”

He came as far as the half-open bedroom door. “What is it?”

He was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of basketball shorts.

Her throat went even drier while her mind scrambled for the thread of thought she’d been following.

Averting her gaze helped. “I’ve been researching Rivers.

Not a lot of personal information available online.

In fact, it almost appears as if he’s scrubbed it from the internet. ”

“Not unusual. There are businesses you can hire online and off to do that for you.”

Although she knew that to be true, his words barely registered.

“I checked ancestry sites for mention of him. If someone in the extended family has an account, it ends up naming even those people who’d rather not have their details online.

It lists Gerald Rivers, same birthday as the trustee, as some sort of a cousin, a couple of times removed.

Looks like Rivers had a son who died three years ago at age thirty-two.

From the obits I checked, it sounded like the cause was a rare cancer. ”

“That’d be tough.” He remained firmly in place as if crossing the threshold would somehow catapult him to a point of no return.

“The owner of the account is a Cynthia Washington. The family tree is pretty extensive. Multiple generations listed. Another cousin is Patti Wallace.”

He pushed the door open wider, a spark of interest crossing his expression. “The name sounds familiar.”

“It should. It’s Stephen Thorne’s mom. He’s listed here, too.”

He practically lunged to her side. “Did you check birth dates? Place of birth?”

She’d be annoyed if she weren’t so intrigued. “Yes and yes. I’m trying to figure out how close the relationship between Rivers and Thorne would be. I’m not good with the once or twice removed stuff.”

Hayes nudged her and Reese scooted over to make room for him on the bed. “Once a first cousin, always a first cousin. Each successive generation makes it once removed.”

“Whatever that means.”

“Look at Wallace and Rivers, specifically. Where do they link? Grandparents? Great-grandparents? Great-great?”

She scrolled, looking more closely. “Great-grandparents.”

Hayes reached for the screen to turn it a bit toward him. He took over the scrolling. “You count back generations… Okay, Wallace and Rivers are second cousins. Thorne would be his second cousin, once removed.”

“How do you know about genealogy?”

He was searching the other family tree branches. “I had a friend who got interested in the AncestryDNA deal and built a tree like this.”

A female friend, Reese knew intuitively. She squelched the questions that surged but couldn’t dodge an unwanted image of him with a faceless, nameless woman. Appalled, she elbowed it aside. She didn’t do jealousy. And she had no cause, regardless.

She shoved Hayes’s fingers from the keyboard.

“There are a couple of family pictures of Rayburn family reunions. The people are labeled.” Reese took a couple of minutes to find them again.

“Here’s one.” She clicked on it and zoomed in, scanning names for a minute.

“This is Rivers.” He couldn’t have been more than nine or ten in the photo.

Reese searched for Wallace. Found a wiry, dark-haired girl with a Band-Aid across her nose and scraped knees.

Maybe a year or two younger. The next one showed Washington and Rivers but no Wallace.

In the third, Rivers was pictured again, this time with a small boy between him and a woman.

Wallace stood close by, holding a dark-haired toddler. Stephen Thorne.