Chapter Six
Four Months Later
Natalie Maynard walked down the hallway of the police station toward Detective Fellowes, who stood holding the now too-familiar conference room door open.
She wondered if the drab yellowish-gray color on the walls had been intentionally chosen or if it had faded into that color over the years. Wasn’t it bad enough that no matter your reason for being here, the victim or the arrested, it was pretty dismal? Did it have to look that way too?
She itched to volunteer to paint it a lovely neutral blue. There was scientific proof that navy blue was the most relaxing color, but that would be too dark. Maybe a shade of cadet blue as cool as a pair of worn-out jeans.
A little artwork wouldn’t hurt.
Her footsteps echoed, but she was used to it after so many visits.
When this all first happened, she’d practically camped out here just to make sure they kept looking for Marc. She was so sure that there’d been foul play and dear Marc had been harmed. She’d mourned him, praying for any tips that might help find him.
For a long time she’d thought Detective Fellowes was being just plain lazy by saying Marc was a con, and was just trying to close the case. But as the weeks went by, and the detective uncovered more and more things that just didn’t add up, well, piece by piece the evidence outweighed her logic. Plus, there was still absolutely no sign of Marc anywhere.
Reality had finally settled in.
The bitter aftertaste of being manipulated, and conned, was tough to swallow.
Now she hoped they’d find him so they could lock him up and throw away the key. Chances seemed to be getting slimmer that they’d recover any of her things, or the money she’d paid into the house that was never hers.
The memory of how Marc had laid out all that paperwork for her to sign as if it was the real deal. An award-winning performance.
All this paperwork is such a hassle.Marc had leaned in with a tender squeeze as she signed those papers, reassuring her that her investment was safe.
One big hoax. The deed, blue paper on the outside and all, had come in the mail. Of course, she didn’t have it, because it had been in the safe, which he’d packed up while she sat basking in the Cancún sun.
Don’t worry. I’m taking care of you,he’d said.
That was back in May. Now it was almost the end of September, and the first day of fall was upon them.
Gone were the spring flowers and the summer sun. Hurricane Ike had blown through a couple of weeks ago, and now the leaves were beginning to change from green to gold and orange.
The holidays would start rolling in soon—a nonstop flurryof parties, sales, and meals with their own color themes—Halloween, Veterans Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.
Detective Fellowes gave her an easy smile.
He was handsome if you liked that scruffy beard look. His eyes were so blue she still wasn’t convinced they weren’t colored contacts.
“How are you today?” he asked politely.
“Fine.” She stepped inside, and he followed, closing the door behind them.
He was nice. Or he seemed so, but then she hadn’t been the best judge of character recently, she reminded herself.
Self-doubt wedged itself between every positive thought she had these days.
“Well, about the same, I guess,” she clarified. “Unless you have some good news for me in regards to what’s-his-name.” Hope tugged at her heart as she pulled out her own chair and sat, eager for some shred of a lead.
“Sorry, I don’t have much new to share.”
“Anything at all?”
“The Moritz Fund where your checks were being deposited. We’ve finally been able to get a little more information.” He flipped open the folder on the table between them. “It belongs to a nest of small corporations. Do any of these names look familiar?” He fumbled through the pages and turned one toward her. “Here it is.”
She scanned the list. “I don’t think so.”
