“As is so clearly evident by your photo montage upstairs,” she said dryly. “Now”—she flipped over another page—“five million dollars. That’s a nice little parting gift to leave a wife.”
It took me a moment to understand that she was talking about Matt’s life insurance policy. “So?” I shrugged.
“So ... when we look at your obsession with William Winthorpe, that life insurance policy, andthis, it equals motive.”
Thisseemed to be indicated by the paper she slid forward. Matt’s will and testament. Unlike mine, it was a simple one-page document, devoid of any confessions and secrets. His was entirely focused on the distribution of all his assets, his demolition company, and his life insurance policy. It all went to me, which made logical sense.
I paused, waiting for more. Waiting for my own will to be slid beside his, the guilty beside the innocent. Nothing came, and I stared blankly at her. “That’s it?”
The detective smiled thinly, and there was a dot of pepper in her teeth. “I’m sorry, Dr. Ryder. You seem to be struggling to catch up, so I’ll spell out the elements of motive.” She held up the index finger of her left hand. “Money. You stand to inherit a five-million-dollar life insurance policy and significant assets upon Matt’s death. That alone would be powerful, but you’re impressive enough to have a second motive.” She flipped out her middle finger to join the first, making a peace sign. “Your obsession and pursuit of William Winthorpe. With your husband out of the way, you could go after a richer, better-looking one, though I do have to say, you’re barking up a formidable tree that is guarded by Cat Winthorpe.”
“But ...” I stared down at the papers before her, still stunned that this seemed to be all they had. “But you don’t have anything.”
She let out a strangled laugh. “I would hardly say that. Granted, from your husband’s broad declaration and your resistance to opening the safe ... I had expected something alittlemore incriminating, but it’s more than enough for me to bring you down to the station for questioning.”
“Questioning forwhat?” I still wasn’t following this. Where was the gold envelope with my will? Why wasn’t she going over it line by line? Calling in cadaver dogs and cold-case files? If they hadn’t found that envelope, what were they arresting me for?
“For the attempted murder of your husband.” She cocked her head at me as if she were confused. “Should we be questioning you for something else?”
CHAPTER 46
CAT
Kelly called me twice, her voice mails filled with concern and giddy intrigue over the police presence dotting the Ryders’ property. This would be the most exciting thing to happen to Atherton since the Bakers’ disappearance. Add in the fact that this was on the same property, and we officially had the most notorious block in the neighborhood. We might need to buy and bulldoze the house just to retain our property value.
I deleted her voice mails and watched as the police car containing Neena pulled out of the drive. She had been put in the back seat, handcuffs on, in the rigid pose of the detained. Their garage door was still open, her SUV in its spot, Matt’s car still missing. Where had he gone after he had confronted William? Our guesthouse was prepped and empty, but I had a feeling he’d rather sleep in the street than on William’s property. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts, finding his name, and the number I had never used. I typed out a text.
I don’t know where you are, but if you’re up for a drink, let me know.—Cat
I sent the text and turned to face the dining room table, where Randall James sat. Our Tennessee-born attorney had a full spread before him and was digging enthusiastically into a blueberry-and-whipped-cream-topped crepe. Across from him, William was on the phone with the Human Resources director of Winthorpe Tech, discussing termination possibilities for Neena. Firing her had been my first demand, coupled by the quick requirement that he never, ever speak to her again. No texts, no emails, no calls. A complete dissection of her from our lives. He had quickly agreed, then tried to pull me in for a kiss—one I had refused. Punishment for this crime had been too long coming to be dealt swiftly. Neena was experiencing a mountain of it. William barely had to deal with a molehill.
“No severance package.” My husband slid his chair back from the table and met my eyes. “Yes, effectively immediately. I want her locked out of everything.”
Randall tapped a piece of paper and slid it toward him. William glanced at the document and nodded.
“Yes, I’m aware of that risk. If she threatens anything, you have her call Randall. He’ll handle it. And we have a release form she needs to sign. Tell her that her final paycheck is contingent on it.”
“Not until Monday,” I said quietly. “Lock her out now, but don’t fire her until Monday. In the meantime, send out an email that looks like it’s going to the entire team but only goes to her. One that says the office is closed today and tomorrow.”
“Will she believe that?” Randall settled back in his seat and straightened, his checkered orange tie resting on his generous belly.
“She won’t have the mental energy to question it,” I said, turning to the window and looking across our yard at their house. In the light of day, there were only two police cars present. The forensic van and search dogs had left, their work done. The dogs had followed the intruder’s path through three yards and over a low place in the neighborhood’s fence, then lost the scent when he got into a vehicle. Poof, gone.
“Why wait until Monday?” William questioned, the phone pulled away from his mouth.
“She’s been hit with a lot,” I said. “Losing her job in the middle of a police investigation—it might be too much for her to handle.” I said it with an air of kindness, but my motives were far from altruistic. She needed to properly understand the ramifications of her actions, and right now, her firing would just be one more thrown stone. Better for that blow to come when she would feel the sting of its impact.
I met William’s gaze and raised my brows, daring him to question me. He held the eye contact for a moment, then relayed the instructions.
From the front of our yard, movement caught my eye as a police SUV made the turn into our drive. I cleared my throat. “Randall, they’re here.”
The doorbell rang, and the attorney stood and wiped at his mouth. “Both of you, just stay right here.”
I leaned against the wall and silenced my phone, which was ringing with another call from Kelly, who must be watching the excitement with binoculars. Randall’s smooth accent boomed through the entry hall as he flirted shamelessly with Atherton’s female chief of police.
“Cat. William.” Chief Danika McIntyre appeared in the open doorway. “Good afternoon.”
I rounded the edge of the table and smiled, accepting the hug that the tall woman provided. Danika McIntyre had been our chief for eight years and had, during that time, coordinated several toy drives and charity projects through our Winthorpe Foundation. “I’m sorry about the middle-of-the-night call.”