But she couldn’t drive. Needed help with many daily tasks. Depended on him to manage her life, protect her independence.

And he wasn’t going to let her down.

That’s why his meeting with Lorraine this afternoon was critical. If she asked for her funds back, his blackmailer would follow through and tell Kimberly his terrible secret.

While it was possible his wife would forgive him, she’d never trust him again. Their relationship would be irreparably damaged.

Besides, even if he could summon up the courage to go to the authorities, confess his part in the scheme, what would be the point? All BK had to do was change the login and password on the account, and law enforcement would be locked out of the records for the shell company. An offshore bank had no incentive to cooperate with US officials. If they did, and word got out, current clients would disappear, and recruiting new ones would be next to impossible.

And what could he tell the cops, anyway, beyond admitting he’d cheated on his wife and was being blackmailed? He had no proof the shell company clients were being murdered, and the police and coroners hadn’t noticed anything amiss with their deaths. Whatever method BK was using appeared to be undetectable. The authorities could think he was a nutcase.

Bottom line, he was stuck.

“Dave?”

At Kimberly’s tentative touch on his arm, he forced up the corners of his mouth. “Sorry. I zoned out for a minute. Did you ask me a question?”

“Is everything all right?”

“Right as rain.” The blatant lie burned his tongue. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t I run out and get us a pizza from that new place in town? I hear it’s great. And I’ll pick up a couple of those turtle brownies you like from the bakery.”

Her eyes began to shimmer, and she leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. “You’re the best, you know that? What would I do without you?” Her breath was warm on his cheek as she nestled against him.

“Don’t ever worry about that. I’m here for you, sweetheart. You can count on me.”

Given the circumstances, that promise could be hard to keep.

Especially now that he was on to BK’s murderous scheme and his conscience was imploring him to find a way out.

Grace knuckled her eyes, took another swig of coffee, and leaned back in her chair at the kitchen table as she stared at her laptop screen.

After culling through old death reports and autopsies for the past two nights and this autopsy-free Wednesday afternoon, what did she have?

Eight people who fit the loose parameters she’d used to winnow through the documents—over age seventy-five, no next of kin or distant NOK, lived alone in the country, and died of natural causes that were most often cardiac related. Three of them had been autopsied, including Fred and Mavis, and the rest had been buried or cremated after the coroner ruled on both cause and manner of death, sometimes in consultation with the deceased’s doctor.