“Now is as good a time as ever.”
I pushed my shirt off her, brushed my palm over her ass, then smacked it lightly. “Come back to bed,” I cajoled, nipping her earlobe.
She slipped from my grasp, not bothering to put the shirt back on. “I love it. I love that you’re here, that we’re doing this thing. But I’m a PI, Wes. We wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t hired to find Ms. Tea.”
Grabbing her hand, I tugged her back to me. “Can’t you do that in the morning?”
Whoosh.
A chime went off, indicating the print job was done.
Albany searched my eyes. There was something there. Worry? Concern? Resolve? “Too late,” she said.
“Does this mean …”
“I figured it out.” She reached over and grabbed the paper from the tray. Glancing at me, she lifted one of the magnets and added two pictures on the wall.
I met her eyes. “What is this?”
“I’m ninety-nine percent sure.”
“That means there’s a one percent chance that you’re wrong.”
“I don’t think so.” She picked up her phone, tapped at the screen, then showed me Ms. Tea’s last post. It was from today, about four hours ago. A picture of us at the barbecue, sharing our plate of food. The caption read.
Oh Lord. Are these two former friends-turned-lovers taking a stroll down memory lane? Rumor has it, the fire is still simmering. But is Albany Keyes ready for Wes’s mess? I wonder … And as luck would have it, she is newly single, finally divorced from her philandering ex-husband. Ladies, guard your wallets cause these men out here ruining people’s credit. #BeCareful #BatchelorShenanigans #SecondChanceSh!tShow
Speechless, I stared at the wall.
Albany peered up at me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” I lied.
I was not good, though. And Albany riding my face was not on the agenda. Because the woman I loved just put my grandmother—and hers—on the wall of suspects.
Chapter 19
Albany
Ifinished my final report around eight o’clock this morning. I worked through the night to compile all the relevant information—a summary of the investigation, evidence documentation, subject info, detailed findings.
Typically, I would offer recommendations and provide my client specific, actionable steps to address any issues I found within the investigation. In some cases, I would notify the police. Most of the time, though, I presented my report, collected my fee, and kept it moving.
In this case …Damn.
After I walked Wes through my investigative process, focusing on how I excluded certain members of his family from the list, I waited for him to say anything. When he didn’t, I squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Still doesn’t explain why,” he murmured.
“Trust me, I didn’t want to believe it myself.”
His gaze was fixed on the wall. “Why would Granny do this? Why would Grandma Liv do this?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“When did you first suspect Granny?”
Granny Joyce’s poker face rivaled some of the more nefarious criminals. She’d perfected it during her talk show era and carried it into her role at the company. But her mask slipped during one of our meetings—when she’d ranted about her grandchildren. Most people wouldn’t have caught it, but …
