“The cost will be exorbitant,” Zee said.
“We have access to Derek’s dirty accounts,” I said. “I can’t think of a better use for that money. I’ve already begun a transfer to a secure location outside the US.”
“That’s Jordan’s money,” Diamond said.
“Seriously?” Rock shook his head.
“You didn’t let me finish.” Diamond clasped her hands in her lap. “I don’t want any of it, and I don’t want him to have any of it. I’d rather it all go to the women.”
“The Feds will probably confiscate a lot of it, anyway,” Rock said.
“No doubt,” I said, “but I made sure there will be enough to take care of the women, freshly laundered and outside the US. Dad taught me well.”
The words made me sick. My father had taught me about money laundering when I was a mere eighteen years old. Said his company didn’t do it, but it was a good skill to have.
Should have been my first clue.
I turned to Rock. “Zee and I can make the arrangements for the women. You get off this island now. Go find your wife.”
Rock nodded. “Thanks, bro.”
55
Lacey
“Ma’am. Ma’am. Are you all right?”
Headache. Bad headache. My eyes cracked open. Oh my God. Where am I? What am I doing here? Whose place is this?
Blurred images came into view slowly. I still didn’t recognize the place, until—
I sat up, rubbing my temples. On the floor next to me was what looked like a book, only it was open, and inside was a safe. An empty safe.
Images came back to me then. This was Fonda’s place. The safe. The eyeglasses. With a pointy temple tip. I touched my neck. Yes. He’d injected me. Derek’s son Jordan had drugged me with something. How much time had passed?
I tried to stand, but dizziness took over. Not a great idea, at least not yet.
“Easy, ma’am. I’ve got you.”
My vision was blurry, but he was…a police officer?
Great. And I was out on bail for murder.
The safe…
What had been in that safe? The glasses. Their case sat on the floor next to the open copy of Moby Dick. An envelope, manila. Nowhere in sight, at least that I could see from where I was sitting. And…
A thumb drive.
He’d given me a thumb drive. Who? Jordan. Jordan Wolfe.
Where was that thumb drive?
I looked around as the cop helped me to my feet.
“Someone called about a gunshot. Your door was unlocked. You should be more careful, ma’am.”
I listened with only one ear as I patted the pocket of my blazer. Shit.
No thumb drive.
It was supposed to be evidence exonerating the Wolfes and me. Implicating Fonda and Jordan. Where had Jordan gone? Had he been playing me this whole time?
I’d had a gun.
A gun.
I peeled my eyes…
No gun.
The firearm was gone.
Just as well. I didn’t need the cops to find a gun with my fingerprints all over it.
But a shot had rung out. I remembered now. I squinted, willing my vision to focus. Something gold caught my eyes.
A casing. The shell from the gunshot. I’d thought he was shooting me, but I was fine. Jordan couldn’t have been that bad of a shot.
Why did he shoot the gun?
“Do you have any ID, ma’am?”
“Uh…yeah. I do.”
I hadn’t brought my purse to the shoot. Quickly I checked the pouch strapped underneath my blazer. My ID was there. My credit card. The hundred bucks in cash was gone, and so was my burner phone.
Strange. He took the phone and the cash but not my credit card?
What was Jordan’s game plan?
I had no idea what time it was, how much time had passed since I’d been here.
I fumbled with my driver’s license and handed it to the officer. Within a minute, he’d be hauling me to the station. But what other choice did I have? The gun was gone, and it wasn’t like I’d actually hold a police officer at gunpoint, even though I’d witnessed my husband do the same in Montana.
I stood, keeping my balance as best I could as I scanned the place for the time. Didn’t anyone keep clocks at home anymore? Did the whole free world rely on cell phones to know what time it was?
A couch sat against the far wall. It beckoned. I could lie down until my head stopped pounding, until the vertigo went away.
If Rock were here, he’d insist I get checked out.
As much as that sofa called to me. I had to get back to the suite. Thank God Jordan had left my credit card. I’d get a cab.
“Lacey Wolfe,” the cop said. “That name sounds familiar.”
I sighed. What was the use? “I’m the wife of Rock Wolfe, CEO of Wolfe Enterprises. I’m out on bail for Derek Wolfe’s murder. And I’m innocent.”
“So this isn’t your place?” He grabbed his cuffs. “Looks like I’ve got you for breaking and entering.”
“No, no.” I shook my head. “I was brought here. This is Fonda Burke’s place.”