Colton's Killer Pursuit

“It’s hollow behind here.” He was already running his fingers over the paneling, looking for something out of place, an indentation or raised piece, anything to push or grasp, when he

leaned against the wall with his hand as he shifted weight to move down a bit. Clarke practically fell as a spring engaged and the piece of paneling he’d been leaning against sprang open.

“Oh, my God!” Leaning over his shoulder, Everleigh watched as he removed the piece of paneling, revealing a small safe nestled in between two-by-fours.

“That definitely was not there when we bought this house,” she said.

“You didn’t know it was here?” He was working. He had to confirm.

“Of course I didn’t.” He could feel her breath on the back of his neck, wanted to wrap his arms around her like a shield and run with her until she was far away from the room. The house. The life she’d been living with a man she hadn’t really known at all.

Instead, he stood, moved the credenza out of the way so that both of them had plenty of room in front of the hole in the wall, and knelt back down to the safe. “It’s a combination lock, not keyed,” he said. “You got any ideas what numbers he’d have chosen?”

She listed his birthday. Hers. The lotto numbers he always played. Nothing, nothing and nothing. He asked her for passwords he might have used that had numbers in them. Tried house and gym addresses.

“Try our anniversary,” Everleigh said, standing in front of the safe, but off to the left of him. She gave him the numbers. He scrolled, turned back and scrolled the opposite direction, and then forward again. Freezing when he heard the click.

“That’s it,” he said, surprised. Why his anniversary? Unless, on some level, the marriage had meant something to Fritz after all. Considering that Everleigh had been the guy’s wife, it made sense that the union would matter. Even if he was a cheat. Clarke pulled on the black knob to open the safe. And pulled out a sheaf of papers. Standing, he moved to the desk with them, Everleigh right beside him, and they pored over them together. Copies of the wills Everleigh had mentioned. A deed to the building downtown. His birth certificate. And some life-insurance papers...

“Wait...” Her tone had changed, grown sharper than he’d ever heard it. His gaze flew to her face and he saw the color leaving hers. The way her cheeks sucked in with tension as she gasped. And words stumbled out of her. “This is the insurance he uses... This looks like...the policy, but...this sheet on top...the beneficiary page...it’s not me...”

She sounded...lost. Completely confused.

And...frightened?

Reading over her shoulder, he saw the beneficiary name.

Larissa Mead? “Isn’t that your friend from the bar?” he asked, all senses on alert as he realized that they’d found what they’d been looking for.

* * *

She couldn’t believe it. She was reading the document that would make Larissa the beneficiary of Fritz’s life insurance and couldn’t believe it.

Larissa?

That woman had just offered to have Everleigh stay with her. What, so she could murder her in her sleep?

Larissa was her friend. One of the few people she’d still trusted...

God, what a fool she’d been. Fritz and Larissa?

And he’d had the gall to accuse her of flirting with customers at the bar?

Fritz and Larissa? Had the two of them laughed together at how easily she’d been duped?

And Clarke...what must he be thinking...

“It’s not signed,” he said from just beyond her shoulder. If she’d leaned back, she’d have been touching him, body to body.

For a second there, she almost did it. Just let herself fall back into him. For a second there, she didn’t think she had the energy to fight anymore.

To take any more.

But...what? She glanced at the signature line. He was right; Fritz hadn’t signed it. And when she looked more closely... “It’s not even the right policy number,” she said.

“He never signed it. He never sent it in. He had it locked in his safe. This is what she was looking for. You’re due to get your money on Tuesday. Fritz must have told her about this. She’d either thought the papers were signed or she’d forged them. She needed you dead in case she didn’t find the papers in time...”

Larissa? She’d stood with her just two nights before in her own mother’s house. Spilling her heart out. Accepting her compassion. All those months she’d worked with her, thinking Larissa had her back. When she’d been screwing her husband behind it...