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“My guess is, there’s a shitload of evidence he’s kept on his hard drive and he came back here for it. A clue that escaped me because I’d refused to step foot in here until now.”
And I had one more thing to add to the mounting list that tipped the scales of my theory.
Standing, I snatched the sheet of paper again and said, “Can you take me somewhere else?”
“The closest insane asylum?”
“Asshole.” I laughed softly. “You’ll regret treating me like a loon when I prove I’m right.”
“And Dane comes back?” he challenged.
“Yes.”
The notion warmed my heart and brought tears of relief to my eyes. Interestingly, my stomach settled. My breathing was almost normal.
As we drove off, I thought I caught a flash of metal in the dense woods—perhaps from a car? I frowned. I really wasn’t aware of my surroundings these days. That would have to change so that Dane didn’t have to worry about me.
Suddenly giddy, I all but vibrated in my seat as we headed into Sedona. But then Kyle shot a broody look my way and I stilled. Though, on the inside, I was almost absolutely convinced my powers of deduction had served me well. I knew precisely where to turn for that remaining bit of certainty.
I still had Mr. Conaway’s unlisted contact details with me. We mapped out his home address using Kyle’s iPhone. Turned out to be a tough place to find, and I suspected that was on purpose.
When we finally reached the gated property and were buzzed through, it was all I could do not to knock down his front door in my hyperactive state. His very pert and pretty wife, Eleanor, answered. She informed us in her delicate Georgian accent that Mr. Conaway was always available for a visit from me. Very southern hospitality–like, with the offer of coffee or tea, which we both declined. Though Kyle hedged at the mention of mango iced tea, while I forced myself to contain my excitement.
Eleanor escorted us to her husband’s office, toward the back of the house. He greeted us in his polite, professional manner, though I could see his concern over my unexpected appearance in his dark-brown eyes.
“I’m so sorry to barge in like this, without an appointment,” I told him.
“It’s fine, Ari. Always nice to see you, my dear. You’re welcome here anytime.”
“Thank you.” I tried to dial down my exhilaration. “You remember Kyle Jenns?” I asked as I indicated my friend.
“Of course.” They shook. “From the wed
ding and I also saw you at the retreat.”
“Yes. Dr. Stevens—Macy—is my aunt.”
“Well, I’m quite happy she’s given Ari so much help.”
I beamed. “I’m sure you’re not the only one.”
He eyed me quizzically, then said, “Please, won’t you both have a seat?” We took the chairs in front of his desk. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure?” The quizzical expression turned skeptical, suspicious.
Did he think I was here for a divorce so I could marry Kyle?
I blanched. I’d never be anyone other than Mrs. Dane Bax from here on out, whether he was dead or alive. Though I already knew the answer to that mystery.
Quickly diffusing any sort of speculation, I said, “I was just curious about some of the account information we reviewed previously. Would you mind showing me an updated status?”
“Not at all. I work very closely with Dane’s—your—accountant to keep everything as current as possible.”
His fingertips skated over the keyboard, and then his printer began churning out paperwork. He handed the bundle to me and I scanned the pages that looked familiar, once again not certain what I searched for but hoping it would jump out at me.
Sure enough, when I reached the last sheet I stared at the two very glaring pieces to the puzzle.
Lifting my gaze, I asked Mr. Conaway, “Shouldn’t Dane’s life insurance policy have paid out by now? I’m the sole beneficiary, so there shouldn’t be any disputes or complications. No one to contest it.”
He shuffled some papers on his desk as he said, “Given the amount we’re dealing with, it can take a bit longer than under normal circumstances.” His gaze didn’t quite meet mine.
