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I gnawed my thumbnail as I rolled around the information.

He was right. Technically, Crow left home at five thirty to walk to his game.

The coach claimed he never arrived. We had no proof he ever went into the building.

Someone picked him up between home and the Soccerplex, likely between five thirty and six.

“What’s the bad news? Might as well get it out of the way.”

Aslan’s thumbs dug into the tense muscles along my shoulders, reminding me of the messy massage the previous night. The slippery, sticky sex that followed. The volcanic eruption. Those sheets would never be salvaged, but I didn’t care. It was worth it .

I took Aslan’s hand while waiting for Costa to find whatever he needed. My husband gave me a reassuring squeeze and kissed the top of my head.

“Here we go. Jude Marigold definitely has a gambling problem. He spends a great deal of money at various casinos and plays online poker, but—”

I groaned. “Don’t say but.”

“But, he’s not showing any significant debt.

For an addict, he seems to play within the very edges of his means.

He has the usual loans and credit card bills, but they’re not outrageous, considering his hobby.

He pays his bills on time and isn’t in trouble with creditors.

I noted a few issues in 2016 and 2018, but nothing recent, and no evidence of unusual deposits.

His income from NexGen is unchanged and consistent.

No spikes. No extras. He takes home a reasonable salary every month.

He and his wife live a middle-class lifestyle, veering toward the lower middle class, if I’m being honest. Considering what he makes, he should be doing much better, but again, he has habits. ”

I cursed under my breath. “What you’re saying is, Jude’s not the one skimming the books.”

“Not that I can see. I can’t eliminate him, obviously.

His methods could be more underhanded, but everything on the surface seems typical.

I haven’t found secret bank accounts or massive investments he shouldn’t be able to afford.

It’s all really simple and straightforward.

The man’s retirement savings are shit too.

If he was skimming the books, I feel like he would have padded parts of his life or be living in a bigger house and driving a better car. ”

A crinkling of paper bags announced Jordyn’s return with food.

Aslan rushed to assist her, and Costa groaned about the invasion of his limited workspace. We found extra chairs in an empty office down the hall to accommodate everyone. It was tight, but we made it work .

Jordyn unpacked the bags. “Before anyone bitches about what I bought, I went to that deli down the street because it caters to all our finicky needs. June has decided we’re vegetarian again, so yay, there’s that.

” Jordyn wrinkled her nose. “Sarcasm fully intended, and no,” she pointed at Aslan and Costa, “I won’t eat meat behind her back because god help me if she finds out, she will turn us vegan, and there are only so many lines I’ll cross for my diva fiancée. ”

I’d heard the complaints for a month straight.

Jordyn’s girlfriend—fiancée—went on random vegetarian kicks and dragged Jordyn along for support.

Jordyn was a good sport about it most of the time and didn’t hate vegetarian eating, but she did go on tangents when her stress was high, announcing at random that she craved a burger or roasted chicken.

Jordyn rooted inside a paper bag and withdrew two wrapped subs, tossing them to Costa and Aslan. “For the overly testosteronated bottomless pits—and yes, I made that word up—we’ve got loaded subs with four kinds of meat, two kinds of cheeses, every sauce imaginable, and all the fixings.”

Jordyn unearthed two smaller containers and handed them off to Aslan and Costa as well. “For dessert, you get in-store baked caramel pie. Pure sugar and fat. Have fun with your early onset heart problems.”

I snorted and immediately rolled my lips over my teeth and bit down to quell the laugh. “That’s usually my line,” I said when everyone stared.

Aslan, immune to snarky food comments, stared at the offering with a wide grin. “Jordyn, has anyone told you how amazing you are?”

“Eat your food and shut up. Your appetite is disgusting.”

“You don’t mean that. Will you be my girl friend? There’s a space between the words. You can’t always hear it, but it’s there. It won’t interfere with your other relationship, and Quaid won’t mind since he and Ruiz have a thing. I promise it will be purely platonic.”

Costa both cursed and laughed under his breath as he unwrapped his sandwich.

Jordyn shot Aslan a dirty look and ignored him, digging out another wrapped sandwich—significantly smaller—and handed it to me. “Grilled turkey, no cheese, light mayo, mustard, lettuce, and tomatoes on whole grain dry bread. No dessert because I value my life.”

I smirked as Aslan’s brows shot up, gaze darting between us. “Oh, how far you two have come. Amazing.”

Again, Jordyn ignored him.

Unwrapping her own sandwich, she revealed it to be egg salad. Costa looked prepared to comment when Jordyn held up a finger. “It doesn’t count. Shut your mouth, or I’ll shut it for you, you tattooed freak. You don’t scare me.”

Costa clamped his teeth together so hard they clacked, and Aslan almost choked on his first bite of sandwich.

Jordyn glared in my direction. “Why are we here again?”

“Costa has good news for us. He promised. I already heard the bad news and the expected news, but he saved the best for last.” To Costa, I said, “God help me, it better be really good news, or I’m rescinding our boy-space-friend agreement.”

Costa deadpanned. “Oh darn. That makes me so sad.”

“Stop pretending you hate me.” I blew him an air-kiss and motioned to the computer. “What have you got?”

“A monster sub and caramel pie. Can I eat first?”

“By all means. We only have an eight-year-old boy missing, and his mother took off this morning to places unknown, but you know, take your time. ”

Aslan tapped his foot against mine, perhaps suggesting I was taking the teasing too far. Before Costa could put his food down—because something told me he would just to please me—I added, “I’m kidding, Costa. Eat. You deserve a break.”

The conversation drifted to Jordyn and June’s upcoming wedding in the fall, to Torin and how he was balancing work life with being a father, to Costa’s girls and their summer plans of horseback riding camp. Eventually, we ended up discussing our baby’s imminent arrival.

“No name yet?” Costa asked, knowing full well we’d been stumped for months.

“I’ve suggested plenty,” Aslan said. “Quaid hates them all.”

“You’ve suggested Onyx, Epiphany, Sunny Delight, Mocha Java, and Moonbeam to name a few. Need I say more?”

Jordyn folded her lips inside her mouth and ducked her head.

Costa fist-bumped my husband. “Nice.”

“Not nice,” I snapped. “She’s a baby, not a porn star. I’m starting to panic.”

“If it’s a girl, I get to name her, and it will be Moonbeam. I think that’s my favorite.” Aslan ate his pie with his hands like a Neanderthal, talking with his mouth full. “Quaid gets to name the baby if it’s a boy.”

I kicked his chair. “Swallow before you talk. You’re such a pig, and again, I didn’t agree to this.”

Neither of us had called Bryn that morning, but Aslan assured me that she would let us know if she was in labor. Time was ticking, and I needed to solve this case before that phone call came in.

We finished eating, and Jordyn collected the garbage as Costa got organized. “Okay. I hope my good news is good enough for the two pickiest detectives in MPU.”

He opened a screen of text, skimmed, and rubbed his hands together.

“Here we go. You asked for a financial background on Nixon Davis as well. It turns out that when your husband wrote up the warrant, he made the request for both Nixon and his wife. His lovely judge friend didn’t seem to care and signed off on it. ”

I glanced at Aslan, who winked and whispered, “Madison still likes me.”

“You’re a shameless flirt.”

He shrugged and waved a hand at Costa. “You’re welcome.”

“I started with Nixon,” Costa said before I could retort, “doing a thorough scan of his accounts, spending habits, and debt. Like his business partner, Jude, I couldn’t find anything unusual.

They have the same salary, which makes sense since they’re equal business partners, but Nixon has better money management skills.

Hence, he lives a more upper-middle-class lifestyle.

His savings are higher but not abnormal.

His retirement is padded. His investments are reasonable.

” Another click. A new page. “Imogen, however, is a different story.”

“What?” I glanced at Jordyn, whose shock mirrored mine. “What do you mean?”

Aslan rested a hand on my knee as Costa continued.

“Until two months ago, she worked as a hairdresser for Prestige Hair Salon, making a little over minimum wage. Presently, she’s on medical leave.

I assume due to pregnancy complications.

She does not earn a wage that I can see while off work, but she is collecting employment benefits from the government.

Like Nixon and Jude, I could track her usual payments from her job, evaluate her spending habits, and view any debt she’s collected.

She’s not the breadwinner of the family, obviously, but has a copious amount of money squirreled away in a separate, robust savings account. ”

“Inheritance?” Jordyn asked.

“I considered that, but this account shows regular monthly deposits of several thousand dollars. They have been occurring for as far back as I can view. We’re talking over a hundred thousand dollars a year, going back years.”

Costa paused and glanced at each of us around the room.

“What aren’t you saying?” I sensed there was more.

Costa wore a wicked grin. “I easily tracked where the money was coming from.”

Another long pause.