Chapter 2
He always did that when she refused to cooperate with the version of events he had prepared.
Then his tone changed.
Casual.
Too casual.
“I heard about Evelyn.”
Rachel said nothing.
“Her passing,” he continued. “I’m sorry.”
“How did you hear?”
“People talk.”
“Which people?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
Daniel shifted.
“Madison has family near Boone. Maybe somebody mentioned it.”
Rachel almost laughed.
Madison Cole had grown up in Tampa.
Rachel knew because she had processed Madison’s executive relocation package three years earlier when Rachel was still doing unpaid accounting work for Bennett Ridge Development because Daniel claimed hiring another controller would “hurt margins.”
Daniel continued.
“Evelyn left you that old cabin, didn’t she?”
There it was.
Rachel looked down at her free hand.
Perfectly steady.
“Yes.”
“Figures.”
“What does?”
“She always liked making statements.”
Rachel waited.
Daniel filled the silence.
“That place is basically condemned.”
“Is it?”
“You’ve seen it.”
“Fourteen years ago.”
“Rachel, the roof leaked fourteen years ago.”
“I remember.”
“And half the hillside is useless.”
“Maybe.”
“Property taxes alone could become a headache.”
“Then I’ll review them.”
“You don’t need another headache right now.”
“How considerate.”
“I’m serious. Madison’s company—”
Rachel went still.
Daniel stopped.
Rachel let two seconds pass.
Then three.
“Madison’s company?” she asked.
“I meant one of Madison’s contacts.”
Interesting.
Daniel had just made his second mistake.
“What contact?”
“A land broker. Some conservation buyer. I don’t know. She mentioned there are groups that buy distressed mountain acreage.”
“Why were you discussing my aunt’s cabin with Madison?”
“We weren’t discussing your aunt.”
“You just said you were.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Rachel looked at the clock.
She started recording notes on a legal pad.
5:21 p.m.
Daniel knew Evelyn dead.
Daniel knew inheritance.
Daniel mentioned distressed-land buyer.
Daniel connected Madison.
“Rachel?”
“Yes.”
“I could probably get someone to take the property off your hands quickly.”
“How quickly?”
“Immediately.”
“Before probate?”
“I don’t know the technical details.”
Daniel always knew technical details when money was involved.
“How much?”
“For that wreck?”
His answer came too quickly.
“Twenty-five thousand, maybe thirty.”
Rachel wrote both numbers down.
The cabin had no running water the last time she visited.
The chimney leaned.
The access road was narrow enough that two pickups could not pass.
Thirty thousand did not sound impossible.
But Daniel had called Evelyn’s lawyer four times before her death.
And Daniel had never helped anyone get rid of a headache unless he intended to profit from the aspirin.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t wait too long.”
“Why?”
“Mountain property deteriorates.”
“Overnight?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You sound worried.”
“I’m trying to help.”
Rachel glanced at his sticky note.
YOU’LL BE FINE.
“I’m sure you are.”
She ended the call.
Then she called a divorce attorney.
Her name was Claire Donnelly.
She was fifty-eight, blunt, expensive, and recommended by a woman Rachel knew from a hospital foundation board.
Claire listened without interrupting as Rachel explained the bank transfer, Daniel’s departure, the inheritance, and Thomas Avery’s warning.
When Rachel finished, Claire asked one question.
“Do you still have access to the company bookkeeping?”
May you like
“Read-only archival access. Daniel removed my active permissions eighteen months ago.”
“Why?”
