How the seed business related to the puzzle that was becoming more curious by the hour remained to be seen.

But if he was a betting man, he’d wager the two deaths were somehow connected, as Grace suspected—and that there was a decent probability the manner of death on the official death certificates was wrong.

Because there was nothing natural about homicide.

7

THIS COULD BE A HUGE MISTAKE.

But desperation was a powerful motivator.

Stomach clenching, Dave set the brake in the parking lot of the high-end hair salon and rested a hand on the briefcase beside him. Inside was all the paperwork for his newest client—aka the next victim. Lorraine Meyers had signed on the dotted line for the exclusive, once-in-a-lifetime offer less than an hour ago.

And when he stopped by tomorrow to pick up her cashier’s check for $110,000, all she had to do was endorse it to the shell company and trust him with a chunk of her nest egg for a minimum of five years, with the expectation of monthly interest more than triple what she could get in any other “safe” investment.

But her interest wouldn’t roll in for long, given the lethal turn this scheme had taken.

Dave fought back a wave of nausea.

He couldn’t keep doing this.

Hence today’s visit to the salon.

He scanned the parking lot, half empty on this hot Thursday afternoon.

Perfect.

The last-minute appointment he’d booked under an assumed name with Lee had verified she was working today. And meeting her in a public setting, at her place of business, wouldn’t raise any eyebrows or cause any problems.

Except with Lee. She was not going to be happy to see him.

But he had to find out what, if anything, she knew that could help him figure out who was pulling the strings that kept him dancing like a marionette.

His next step if he did manage to identify his tormentor? Unknown. But having BK’s real name would give him a tiny bit of leverage and perhaps a fighting chance to pull out of the tailspin he was in.

He slid from the car and approached the front door, his mood not unlike it had been on his first visit almost four years ago. He’d been seriously in the dumps as he drove home that day. In need of a pick-me-up. Of pampering. A high-end haircut had never been part of his routine, but the sign had caught his attention—along with the “you deserve to indulge” tagline—and he’d pulled in.

A decision he’d rue for the rest of his life.

He paused at the front door, his pulse picking up as another wave of doubts crashed over him. It wasn’t too late to abort this dicey mission.

Yet if there was even a remote possibility Lee could link a potential name or two to the voice on the other end of the burner phone, it was worth a conversation.

Assuming she’d talk to him.

Not that she’d cause a scene, put her job at risk. She was too smart to endanger her livelihood. But that didn’t mean she’d tell him anything helpful.