Page 30

“Costa, for the record, I hate suspense in movies, books, and especially in real life. Spit it out.”

“Benedict Davis is depositing what appears to be a stipend into his daughter-in-law’s account every month.

It’s the same amount on the same days going back years.

She occasionally transfers some of it to the account she shares with her husband, but never in larger amounts than a few hundred dollars here and there.

Not enough to scratch the surface or make a dent.

So far as I can see, the account serves no other purpose.

No bills are paid from that account. No other income is deposited into it. ”

“Benedict Davis?”

“Yes.”

“As in Nixon’s father?”

“Yes.”

I glanced at Jordyn, who looked equally baffled. She spoke my thoughts aloud. “That makes no sense. He hates her. The bad blood in that family is rich and undeniable. Why the fuck would he pay her thousands of dollars a month? Hundreds of thousands a year?”

A memory tickled the back of my brain. Something I’d overheard at the house.

I strained to bring it forward, hearing it echo in the distant reaches of my mind.

Imogen’s mother. She was yelling at Benedict, something about him having no moral or ethical code.

“We all know if there’s a price, you’ll pay it. ”

“Quaid?” Aslan touched my arm.

“I’m thinking. Give me a second.”

Imogen knew something. She refused to speak.

She swore her son wasn’t in danger. From whom?

His father? That was what she implied. Was the boy with the grandparents?

Had Nixon shipped him off out of spite? Spite for what?

Was he playing a sick game? What was the money?

Hush money? For what? Did Nixon know about it?

Did he find out something that angered him and he retaliated?

Was Imogen the one with secrets and being paid to keep her mouth shut? Had she threatened to tell?

Another thought hit me like a freight train, and I sat up straighter, eyes bulging. “Oh shit. I completely forgot.”

“What?” Jordyn and Aslan asked at the same time.

“Benedict Davis owns twenty percent shares in NexGen. Nixon said it on the day he reported Crowley’s disappearance. He said his parents were retired but that his father had shares in the company. Twenty percent, I believe. I’m sure it was twenty percent. Nixon and Jude both have forty.”

“The missing money,” Jordyn said. “Do you think Nixon is filtering it through his dad into an account in his wife’s name?”

“Maybe. I didn’t think of that.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “But I still don’t know how any of this has to do with Crow.”

Maybe it didn’t. Maybe we were off track and losing the plot altogether, but a gut instinct told me it was connected. Somehow.

Costa spoke for the first time, his question directed at Jordyn. “Why do you assume Nixon knows anything about this money? Hasn’t he been investigating it and getting into fights with his best friend and business partner? Calling in advisors or something?”

“He didn’t call an advisor. He met with Clementine,” I said.

“Okay, but what if Benedict is doing it behind Nixon’s back? ”

“And giving it to Imogen?” I asked. “Why?”

Costa spread his hands. “No clue, but it’s a possibility, right?”

“It could explain the feud between family members,” Aslan said.

He was right. “I have a feeling Imogen’s mother knows about the payments. During the chaotic fighting yesterday, I overheard Diane say to Benedict, ‘We all know if there’s a price, you’ll pay it.’ She was referring to a potential ransom, but—”

“It implies knowledge of a previous price paid .” Aslan added air quotes.

“Exactly.”

No one spoke for a long time. I puzzled connections, imagining various outcomes and inventing secrets that might amount to something nefarious.

“We need to find out what Nixon knows about these mysterious payments being put into his wife’s account by his father.

We need to look into Benedict’s accounts and find out if he’s withdrawing money from NexGen without anyone knowing. ”

“You’re stretching the limit of warrant approval with that one,” Aslan said.

I mock sneered at my husband. “I thought you could sweet-talk Madison into anything.”

He chuckled. “Do you want me to flirt with the hot judge who’s been itching to get in my pants for years?”

“No, but I want a warrant. It is tied together. You have valid reasons. Get me that goddamn warrant. Preferably, without swinging your dick in her face.”

Aslan snagged my chin and drew me in for a quick kiss in front of everyone. He knew I wasn’t a fan of excessive public displays, especially when working, but he didn’t care. “You are not the same insecure man I used to date, Quaid Valor.”

“You’re all talk. I know you don’t flirt with her. ”

“Or anyone.”

Jordyn made a purposeful gagging noise. “Can you two stop. I just ate.”

One last quick kiss, and I pulled back. “On second thought, let Costa take care of the warrant.”

“Whoa. Why me? Madison doesn’t want in my pants.”

I appraised my panicky IT boy-space-friend. “I can’t see why not. You’re decently good-looking.”

Costa flinched. “Excuse me? Decently?”

“Show her your tattoos.” I motioned to his arms. “Or open an extra button at your collar and flaunt the pec dip.”

“Decently?”

Aslan mock whispered, “I think your boyfriend wants to hear you say he’s sexy. Go on. Tell him. It won’t hurt my feelings. I promise.”

Costa jabbed a finger in Aslan’s face. “You did not put a space that time.”

Aslan licked his finger and pressed it to Costa’s arm, making a sizzling sound. “Yep. He’s smokin’ hot. Madison should go for it.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Costa threw Aslan off. “Don’t we have a kid to find?”

Jordyn stood, her chair screeching as she shoved it back.

“Good fucking god. I hate men. I’m suffocating on way too much testosterone.

Open a fucking window next time. Now listen up.

This is what’s happening.” She pointed at Costa.

“You write up a warrant, get it signed without being charged with sexual harassment, then find out if Benedict is skimming money from NexGen or how the hell a retiree can afford to pay his daughter-in-law, whom he despises, thousands of dollars a month.”

She swung a finger between Aslan and me. “You two sex fiends go back to the house and chat with Nixon. Do not stop for a quickie on the way. Find out what he knows about this, and if it’s nothing, then haul ass to the grandparents’ house and interrogate them until you get some fucking answers.”

I frowned. “What about you?”

“In case you forgot, we have two people warming interview rooms upstairs—if they’re still there.

I don’t know about Jude, but I have a strong feeling Clementine might know something.

She spent time in the Davises’ house. I’m not sold on an affair, but Imogen fired her for a reason, right?

I highly doubt it was for nothing. Maybe the nanny saw or heard something she wasn’t supposed to. ”

I went to open my mouth to tell Jordyn that I’d already briefly spoken to Clementine, but my partner was in a mood, and I figured it was easier to apologize later when she found out on her own.

Jordyn paused, and we all stared at her. My pint-sized partner could be intimidating as hell when she wanted to be. It was no surprise to anyone that she handed me my ass every week when we sparred at the gym.

When nobody moved, she clapped her hands. “Go. What are you waiting for? Get answers.”

We launched into action as Costa’s phone vibrated on the desk. Simultaneously, we stopped as he picked it up.

He read whatever message had come in and nodded. “The FedEx depot sent over their video footage for me to review.” Before Jordyn could bark another order, he added, “Already on my list, Your Highness.”