Her phone rang and she tapped it, letting it pick up on speaker mode. “Sheila! Hi.”
“How are you?”
“Great. I’m working on a new set of cards that I think you’re going to love. This guy I’ve been driving around, Paul, his place is magical. Like a storybook, and I am so inspired.”
“That’s great! You know I think you need to quit thinking about going back into nursing and focus on your gift. It’s special.”
“So is nursing. But honestly, I’d rather just keep helping seniors by driving them around and spending time with them and work on this. With almost no overhead, I can totally do that living here in Chestnut Ridge.”
“Then do it. You should.”
“You’ve got to come up and see me. It’s so much better than you can imagine.”
“I hope so,” Sheila said, but Natalie knew she was kidding. “I was just checking in. Get back to that artwork and send me some pictures. I can’t wait to see them. I’ll be your first order.”
“You always are. You and all of your clients.”
“Well, sharing is caring.” Sheila had made Natalie’s note cards part of every closing gift she gave when her clients finally bought their dream home. From there it had been word of mouth and online marketing that had started the sales trickling in.
She hung up the phone, closed her eyes, and smiled, so thankful for the good that was following the storm she’d gone through.
“I’m trying to use the gifts you’ve given me, Lord. Every ounce of them.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
RANDY HADhoped Natalie would call back last night. He must’ve checked his phone twelve times throughout the night, looking for a missed call or a text. Or maybe it was just that he wanted a reason to call her back. To hear her voice.
It was a big day for this case, and maybe it was just as well he hadn’t talked to her. If the whole investigation turned up nothing, she’d be disappointed. Hell, he’d be disappointed.
He was feeling optimistic, though. Finally, working with the North Carolina detective, Randy had been able to untangle the LLCs and ghost corporations that, like spaghetti, eventually led back to one common name.
A lot of the evidence aligned between the two cases. It was likely they were connected. Randy was almost sure that the man they were closing in on in the North Carolina case was the same man Natalie knew as Marc Swindell. The list of aliases was getting longer as they pulled each thread.
Adrenaline rushed through him, and there was no getting back to sleep.
He hit the gym early, sweating every bit of anxiety from his body and spending an extra fifteen minutes in the sauna to meditate.
Dressed and eager for news, he headed to the office. As he walked through the parking garage, his phone rang.
“Fellowes.”
“I sent photos over this morning,” the North Carolina detective said. “He’s definitely our guy. Hope he’s yours too.”
“Me too.” He fist-pumped the air. “Great.”
“She confirmed it’s him in the picture. I’ve sent over the details. Circumstantial, some of it, but others are tangible and concrete. It’ll be interesting to see if your vic zeroes in on the same things mine did.”
“This is great news.”
“I wonder how many women this jerk has taken over the years,” the detective muttered.
“Me too. When you add it all up, the money, the property, cars, it’s a bit staggering,” Randy said as he walked down the hall to his office.
“Yeah. He’s living the high life too. Wait until you see his house.”
Just talking about it left a bad taste in Randy’s mouth. “I’ll talk to Natalie today and see how this all fits together. I’ll let you know.”
“Yeah, keep me posted. We’re planning to get everything together and make the arrest tonight. Any corroboration to help make this stick would be great. The timing is critical. I don’t think he’s going anywhere, but the way he comes and goes for weeks at a time, the opportunity window could close.”
