Page 112 of Luck of the Devil

“It’s your case,” he said matter-of-factly. “Skeeter’s just assisting. Anyway, I found out who picked up your mother’s prescription, and if you bet on her being the one to pick it up, you would have lost. It was your mystery woman.”

I sucked in a breath in shock. “But my mother’s doctor prescribed it.”

“Correct. An inside source says the doctor just sent it without her coming in. There’s a chance your mother called him personally—he is friends with your father—but we don’t know for certain.”

“I found out my mother refused antidepressants years ago, so it stands to reason she wouldn’t take them now.” But if my father called in a favor to get them filled, then he had to have told the mystery woman, so she would’ve known to pick them up. Which was more evidence that they were working together.

Carter continued, “Skeeter mentioned he had a suspicion your father might be in some financial trouble. But when I looked his financials up, he seems to be fine. In fact, better than fine. If you’re lookin’ for motivation to kill her, you can add his finances to the pot. He’s worth about six million.”

I was dumbfounded. “Six million dollars?”

“Yep, and half of it would have gone to your mother in a divorce.”

I couldn’t see him having her murdered for money, but at this point, I wasn’t ruling anything out.

He hesitated, then said tentatively, “I also have more information about your mother’s head wound.”

“To the back of her head?” I asked, my chest constricting.

“Yeah. It looks like it was made with something long and cylindrical. Like a pipe.”

“So, they whacked her in the head, drugged her up with Zoloft, and then put her in the car, and pushed it into the river,” I said like I was reading a recipe.

“Perhaps the first two were reversed, but, yeah. It’s definitely possible.”

“Thanks,” I said. “This is helpful.”

“Sure,” he said with a warmth in his voice that caught me off guard. “Let me know if I can help with anything else.”

I released a chuckle. “With you and your sleuthing, I’m not sure James needs me for his own cases.”

He was quiet for a moment then said, “He needs you, all right. Whether he knows it or not yet. I hope you’ll stay on board.”

My heart skipped a beat at him saying James needed me, but I told myself that he meant something entirely different than my stupid heart took it as. “I don’t work for him,” I said. “There’s no staying on board. I’ve never been on board.”

“Okay. If you say so.” A soft laugh filled my ear. “But again, let me know if you need anything else. I’m at your disposal.”

I started to respond but I realized he’d hung up.

My heart fluttered in my chest like I was a teenage girl with a crush. What the hell was wrong with me?

I’d dated more than handful of men and never had a reaction to them like I had with James. Was it because my grief made me vulnerable?

Or had my heart found someone worthy of my attention?

I shook my head, trying to clear out the ridiculous thoughts. I needed to get a grip and get to work. And then once we’d wrapped this case up, I needed to put distance between me and James Malcolm before I lost my mind and did something impulsive.

Something we’d both regret.

The rest of the day, I searched all the names on the documents. Some had criminal records. The rest appeared to be clean, but I knew better. Just like my father, they’d just evaded investigations or arrests.

Maybe we could change that.

Misti brought me a plate of food around lunch time, but I was so deep in my work, I barely touched the roast beef, mashed potatoes, and cooked carrots. About a half hour later, James came to check on me.

“Makin’ progress?”

“Some. Not enough.” I tilted my head to get a better look at him as he stood next to the table, heat blooming in my lower belly before I could shut it down. “You figured out a place yet?”