Page 49 of Luck of the Devil (Harper Adams Mystery #3)

After we finished breakfast and cleaned up, James helped me print my mother’s will and we discussed how to work out the rest of the day. I didn’t have a car, but it didn’t seem smart for us to be seen together in town.

“You can drop me off at the tavern, then let me know what you find,” he said. “We’re short staffed for the lunch rush today, so Misti’ll appreciate the help.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“You’re askin’ if I think you’re gonna keep things from me?” He met my gaze. “I trust you.”

I half-expected him to look pained, but his expression was sincere.

Could I trust this change of sentiment? I hated that I questioned his motives, but if I couldn’t trust my ex-partner--then I’d be stupid not to wonder about an ex-crime boss who’d admitted to using an innocent woman because of her unique skill set.

He must have seen the questions in my eyes, because he looked like he wanted to say something. But after the brutal beatings of the past few two days, my heart was too raw to deal with anything else.

I snatched up my bag. “Let’s go.”

We were silent as he drove to the tavern. I found myself studying the lines of his profile when he wasn’t looking.

His driveway was about a quarter of a mile long, and it twisted multiple times, so it was hidden from the county road. It took us less than ten minutes to get to the tavern, and when I commented on it, he said, “I work a lot of late nights, so I appreciate the short commute.”

“If someone looks up the property records, they wouldn’t see your name, would they?” I asked.

He grinned. “What good are multiple businesses if not to help create a paper trail?”

I wanted to ask what else he owned, but all in good time.

He pulled into the parking lot and put the car in park, leaving it running. “If you need anything, give me a call. And if you need a gun, there’s one in the glove box. It has a fully loaded clip, and there’s a spare one in there too.”

I cocked a brow. “Is it registered?”

“Of course,” he said with a mischievous grin. “Can you imagine how long the multiple law enforcement officers who pull me over would lock me up for if they found unregistered guns in my car?”

Guns. Plural. But I didn’t ask about the others. If this one was registered, the others were too. As for why he might need more than a single handgun? That seemed like a question for later too.

“Thanks.”

He gave me a long look, and for a moment, the air felt heavier. “Be careful, Harper. I can’t help thinking your call to Deveraux may have stirred up some shit.”

“I know,” I said, apologetically. “And you know I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean for me.” He gave me another long look then got out and walked into the back door of the building without a backward glance.

I watched him walk away, noticing the set of his shoulders.

I felt an unexpected pang of something I didn’t understand.

I told myself it was because I was stunned by his suggestion that my call to Deveraux could come back to bite me .

Maybe Deveraux might think I was guilty by association to James, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t what he’d meant.

Keith’s call must have spooked us both.

I was still sitting in the passenger seat, so I walked around the car and got behind the wheel, then headed to Wolford.

Once I got to the bank, I carried my papers inside and walked up to a teller. “I’m here to access a safe deposit box.”

“What’s the box number?” she asked.

“One-seventy-two.” Thank God for the will.

“Okay, follow me,” she said, walking toward an open vault. A metal box was on the table, and she used a key to open it and flip through small, index-sized cards. She pulled one out and looked it over. Recognition filled her eyes. “This belongs to Sarah Jane Adams.”

“I’m her daughter,” I said. “Her will states that I get access. And I have a key.” I held out the papers toward her.

“I don’t know…” she said, looking leery. “I’ll need to get my manager.”

“That’s okay, Megan,” a woman said from behind me. “I’ll take care of this. You head on back to the counter.” The woman took the teller’s place and lowered her voice. “Harper?”

Given my reputation, it wasn’t unusual for people to know who I was, and they usually weren’t happy to be in my presence. But I’d hoped to escape that attitude in Wolford. I steeled my back. “Yes.”

She moved closer and lowered her voice. “I’m Jill, the bank’s assistant manager.

Sarah Jane was in about three weeks ago and opened a bank account and a safe deposit box.

She put your name on both and said she’d get you to sign the signature card.

She asked that I keep everything hush-hush.

Something about going through a divorce, although I warned her that even though your name was on the checking account she opened, her husband might be entitled to half until the divorce was final.

She said she was okay with that, but then she never brought your signature card back.

You said you have a will granting access? ”

“It’s a copy,” I said. “I think the original might be in her box.”

She took the papers, gave them a cursory glance, then handed them back. “Good enough for me.” She centered the signature card the other woman had pulled out on the table. “I’ll just have you sign on the line below your mother’s.”

I signed under the two times my mother had accessed the box.

“I will warn you,” she said as she picked up the card. “Your father was in here a few days ago, trying to access the safe deposit box.”

My mouth dropped open. How did he know about it?”

“He said he had a key, but Sarah Jane had been so adamant about keeping the contents away from him. All he had was a copy of her old will, so I told him he was out of luck. He said he’d be back with an injunction, but so far, he hasn’t returned.”

So, he knew about the new box and really wanted the contents, but how had he found out? I know John David hadn’t told him. Had he known about my mother’s new will? Had he purposely sent me to my grandparents, thinking they might have a copy of the new will or a means to get into the box?

Unaware of my inner turmoil, she gave me a grim smile. “Okay. Let’s open your box.”

I followed her into the vault and watched as she inserted her key, then she took my key and inserted it into the second lock before turning both keys. She pulled the box from the wall and set it on a table in the center of the small space.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” she said as she walked out of the room.

My heart hammered in my chest as I opened the lid, trying to prepare myself for whatever I might find.

The box revealed a manila envelope with my name written in my mother’s neat handwriting in the center.

I pulled it out and opened the flap, revealing a thick stack of documents.

I removed the stack, not surprised to see the original copy of her new will on top.

I turned it over onto the table, about to examine the next page when the teller I’d met walked over to the table outside the vault with an older woman following close behind her.

I stared in shock as I realized it was the woman my father was possibly having an affair with.

The woman was staring openly at me, and when she saw recognition on my face, she abruptly turned and hurried for the exit.

I snatched up the stack of papers and started to go after her, but the teller blocked my path. “You can’t just go. We need to place your box back in the vault and return your key.”

“That’s okay,” I said, trying to get dodge around her. “I don’t need it anymore.”

She blocked me again. “Maybe so, but we need to follow the rules.”

The woman was already out the door, and I was desperate to catch up to her, so I shoved the teller aside and ran for the double glass doors. But I stopped abruptly outside the bank, because there was no sign of her. Not even a car pulling out of the parking lot.

How could I get this close and lose her?

I ran my hand over my head as I scanned the area again, forcing myself to accept she was gone.

I went back inside and came face to face with the fuming teller.

“Who was that woman?” I asked.

“What woman?” she snapped.

“The woman who was just here and ran out.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes blazing as she shot me a glare. “I’m not allowed to divulge confidential information.”

“I’m not asking you to show me the contents of her box,” I said, getting pissed. “I just want to know who she was.”

“And as I told you—” the teller spat.

“Is there a problem?” Jill, the assistant manager, asked.

The teller flung her hand toward me in disgust. “This woman is demanding to know personal and confidential information about a customer. And of course , I refused to tell her. Then she threw a fit.”

I adamantly shook my head. “That’s not what happened, but the woman who was just here might have information about my mother’s death.”

The teller’s eyes widened.

“Why do you think she has information about her death?” Jill asked in a guarded tone.

“I can’t tell you much,” I said, then gestured to the teller. “Just as you can’t tell me much, but that woman was likely the last person to see my mother alive, and we have some questions. If you could give me any information that might help me locate her, it would be greatly beneficial.”

The teller gave her manager a questioning look.

“Frannie’s right,” Jill said regretfully. “We can’t give you any identifying information, but Frannie can tell you anything else she said.”

I quickly nodded.

Frannie made a face. “She didn’t even give her name. Just told me she needed in box one-seventy-two. She had a key.”

“That’s my mother’s box,” I said. “Did you remember that when she asked to get into the box?”

“I don’t memorize the box numbers,” Frannie said.

“Did she show you ID?” I asked.

Frannie’s upper lip curled. “ You didn’t show ID.”

She had a point. “Is there anything else you can tell me?” I asked, feeling desperate. I’d been so close to her and I still had nothing. “If she didn’t give her name, then I’m worried she was going to forge my mother’s signature to get to the box.”

Which meant she and my father were working together.

I felt like I was going to be sick.

“That’s a very serious accusation,” Jill said solemnly.

“Why else would she have given you my mother’s box number?” I asked. “Especially after my father tried to get in a few days ago, and you turned him away. He threatened an injunction, with takes time and money. If he could send someone else in…” I let the accusation hang in the air.

The manager nodded slowly. “I assure you that we will be extra diligent with your mother’s box from here on out.” Her gaze dropped to my chest.

I was still clutching the papers and envelope to my chest like I has in the middle of the ocean and they were my life preserver.

I shook my head. “No need. I’m taking it all with me.”

Jill looked like she wanted to argue, but then her face softened. “I’m sorry you lost your mother. I hope you find what you’re looking for in whatever she left you.”

I hoped I found it too, but knowing my mother, I doubted it would be that easy.