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A blond woman in a dark SUV.
Elizabeth almost bought into her new theory when two faces—Mazie’s and Officer Unfriendly’s—flitted across the screen of her mind. They, too, had died violently. . . seemingly because of her. She shook her head, putting Court’s accident and the reasons behind it aside for the moment and concentrated on what she could do, which was get her life back on track, starting with the finances.
Court had paid all their bills online, but he’d been a stickler for keeping paper records, thank heavens, and he’d actually made a list of passwords, which he’d taped to the inside of one of the bottom drawers of the desk. Looking over that list, she accessed the Internet and clicked her way to their joint bank account. She’d seen paper statements sporadically; Court had never deigned to go green and well, there’d been nothing “eco-friendly” about him, but she’d never seen all of their accounts together on one screen before.
All six of their accounts, she thought, counting them up and beginning to feel slightly ill. None of them had more than a couple hundred dollars, and most were closer to a zero balance. She looked at recent payments made and saw there were hefty chunks paid to Court’s credit cards. She stared at the screen for a long time. As she scrolled through the last few months of online statements, she realized he’d been paying for his affair on credit, which had grown increasingly expensive. And he’d been sending the statements to his office.
His office . . .
For the most part, his coworkers had stayed away from her at the funeral. She’d recognized only a few of them anyway, so it hadn’t seemed strange. Of course, she realized that some of them could have known more about his private affairs than she did. In fact, that was a pretty good guess.
Not that it mattered anymore.
Several of the bills next to her computer were close to past due. She paid the ones she could via the Internet. She’d always run their household on the money Court had transferred from his account to their joint account, but unless there was cash in some other bank, she was close to destitute.
She did know how much they owed on the house, and though it was enough to make her stomach tremble, she also knew the house was worth far more than the mortgage. She just had to sell quickly as the bill collectors were going to be at her door.
As for life insurance, she hadn’t known Court to carry any. A quick look through the filing cabinet again revealed no policies, of course. During their marriage, they’d never discussed the need for insurance on his life. Or hers, for that matter. She’d have to rethink that, for Chloe’s sake.
Not having a huge life insurance policy had one good side, at least as far as the police were involved. Without the big financial win from Court’s demise, there was less of a motive for his wife to have killed him.
Oh. Dear. God.
She stared at the stack of unpaid bills that remained and wondered how she could possibly pay them before the house sold. Impossible with the money in their accounts. Just trying to figure out how to get by in the next month or two made her head hurt.
“Maybe I can wish him back alive,” she said on a half laugh, half sob.
Except she didn’t want him back. Not now . . . not ever. She was sorry he was dead, but she wasn’t sorry he was out of her life, out of her daughter’s life. In truth, he was a lousy husband and even worse father.
Fate or whatever or whoever had killed him, had done her a favor.
The room was quiet and dark with only the diffused dot of the tension lamp illuminating the vellum stationery. The hand clutching the pen was taut, squeezing.
Emotion. Too much emotion.
Calm down.
Breathe deeply.
Let go . . .
Finally, the pressure was released until the pen was held in a manner that allowed the words to be written. Important words.
Elizabeth,
It’s all for you. Do you understand yet? I’ve been hiding my feelings for so long, but now finally, I can let you know. I’m sick, you see. Sick with love for you. Heartsick. Soul sick. I’m going to give you everything you desire. I am your slave, your genie in a bottle. Command me, and I will deliver. I grow stronger because of you. You don’t see me yet. I’m just a flicker in the corner of your eye. But you’ll see me soon, my love. Very, very soon.
Chapter 13
It took longer than expected to find the trail that led to Ralph and Joy Gaines of Sausalito and then, supposedly, to Santa Monica. Rex had searched public records and finally found a business license in Costa Mesa registered to Ralph and Joy Gaines for an independent insurance agency, formerly Gaines-Connett, now Harper Insurance Agency.
Well, that’s convenient, since I live here, Rex thought as he stood in his kitchen and sipped his first cup of coffee.
Further investigation was just a matter of showing up and asking the right questions. As far as a residence, however, he’d struck out. A number of Ralph Gaineses were listed throughout Southern California, but Rex couldn’t find anyone associated with a woman named Joy.
Staring out the sliding door of his two-bedroom house, he watched as a robin hopped through the damp grass, pecking as it made its way across his lawn.
Ralph and Joy could have divorced or she could have died. Those records would be easily located and confirmed.
