AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Winthrop’s posture visibly stiffened. “Seven point eight million dollars.”
Finley and Jack shared a quick glance.
That’s a hell of a lot of motive.
In Finley’s opinion the most significant factor was that the husband—Jarrod Grady—had come back from his business trip. He had to understand there was a good chance Winthrop had found out about the money. The woman was a financial genius. He must have anticipated he wouldn’t be able to hide what he’d done for long. Further, he obviously had no fear of serious reprisal—at least not of being murdered or even arrested right away. Was he that confident in his ability to charm his way out of trouble? Or did he believe his wife that naive? Winthrop didn’t strike Finley as the least bit naive.
“Where did he go on this business trip?” Jack asked. “Out of town?”
Winthrop nodded. “Atlanta. He’s ...” Her voice trailed off. She blinked back tears, then started again. “He wanted to develop a real estate business. With property values soaring, it seemed a good move. He insisted that he wished to earn his keep.” She somehow managed to maintain eye contact with Jack as she said this, though it was discernably difficult. This was the grieving widow the jury would need to see if the case went to trial.
Finley made a mental note to confirm whether Grady had made the trip as scheduled. If Winthrop hadn’t been aware of his embezzling for a period of time, she likely hadn’t been aware of other things.
Jack continued with the essential questions. “What time did he arrive home on Saturday?”
“Seven fifteen that evening. His flight was delayed. I wanted to send my driver to pick him up, but he’d already called for an Uber. With more than twenty-four hours since the discovery of the missing money, I’d had time to prepare myself for the confrontation. I was reasonably calm and ready to demand answers when he arrived home.”
Jack waited for her to continue. The distant look in her eyes told them she was reliving those fateful minutes and hours.
“I was alone when he arrived. I didn’t want anyone else there. I needed to hear his answers first.” Her lips quivered, and she laughed a sad sound. “My God, I own and operate one of the top financialconsulting firms in the country; how could I be conned like this?” She shook her head, battling tears once more. “The ramifications to my professional reputation stand to do far more damage than the money loss. Money, I know how to make. But recovering from this kind of scandal ...” She bit her lips together, unable to go on.
“You grilled him the moment he arrived,” Finley suggested. It wasn’t a question. Winthrop had already stated that she had been prepared and waiting for him. How it had started might prove relevant.
“I did. The moment he walked through the door, he called my name. I answered from the family room, and he joined me there. I pointed to the documents on the coffee table and demanded an explanation. He dropped his overnight bag and walked to the table to view the documents. For half a minute or so, he studied the statements I’d printed. Throughout our discussion he maintained there had to be a mistake or some other explanation. We went round and round for hours. I asked him to leave, but he refused. He said he didn’t want me to be alone under the circumstances.” She gave her head a long, slow shake. “He went so far as to suggest that if someone had managed to break into our accounts, he wasn’t sure I would be safe alone in the house.”
Finley had to hand it to the dead guy—pretending to still care after swiping more than $7 million was a slick move. There was always the off chance the guy was innocent.
Doubtful. Ellen Winthrop likely wouldn’t make such a mistake.
But smart women did make the occasional mistake, especially when those more intimate emotions were involved. Finley had certainly made a few. Memories of her own whirlwind marriage invaded her thoughts. She’d met Derrick, and they’d tied the knot mere weeks later. They’d lived the fairy tale for several more weeks, and then everything had shattered into a million pieces, leaving a multitude of questions and no ready answers. There were only secrets and lies ... and mounting questions that at times overwhelmed her.
Is it possible Derrick could be innocent?
No. Anger flared, and Finley hardened herself against the memories and thoughts that dared to slip into her head during a damned client interview. There was no way to pretend he was innocent anymore. Derrick had been guilty of something. He’d lured her in with a carefully constructed web of lies, and she still didn’t know the truth about him or what his endgame had been.
Yet she knew one thing for certain. The anger dissipated as quickly as it had come. She had loved him. Completely. Unexpectedly so.
Had Ellen Winthrop loved Jarrod Grady that way?
The similarities in their marriages—Finley’s and this woman’s—were oddly unsettling. They could be sitting here discussing Finley’s life instead of Winthrop’s. Though Derrick hadn’t absconded with Finley’s money, he’d left her with a mountain of uncertainties. Also, like Winthrop’s husband, Derrick had been murdered in their home. Only Finley hadn’t been out for a walk; she’d very nearly been killed as well.
Focus on the case, damn it.
Finley cleared her head and asked the question suddenly nagging at her. “Did you love your husband, Ellen?”
Winthrop blinked as if startled by the query. “I loved him. Yes.”
Her eyes and the sadness that consumed her face as well as her bearing seemed to underscore her words. She was either telling the truth or the best damned poker player Finley had ever interviewed.
“What did you do when he refused to leave?” Jack prodded.
Winthrop turned to the man she without doubt hoped could save her from drowning in a painful and violent river of legal trouble. “I told him to be gone by morning. Then I went to my home office and locked myself inside. I felt safer there. It’s on the ground level, and the door is like one you would find on a vault. There’s a keypad with an entry code. No one was getting in unless I granted entrance. I—”
“Are you saying,” Finley interrupted, “your husband didn’t have access to your home office?”
“He did not,” Winthrop said without missing a beat. “Perhaps in time I would have given him the code. I suppose I’m somewhat overprotective of that space.”
Finley nodded. “Please continue with your story.”
