Chapters (46)
- Cover
- Letter to Reader
- Fatal Affair
- Dedication
- Contents
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Copyright
Tall, blond, blue-eyed and handsome in a rugged, hard-working way, Royce slipped an arm around Lizbeth’s shoulders. “Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of my wife.”
Sam glanced at Freddie, who handed her the printout detailing the Hamilton’s financial situation. “Very well. In that case, perhaps you can explain how you’ve come to be almost a million dollars in debt.” Only because she was watching so closely did she see Royce tighten the grip he had on his wife’s shoulder.
“A series of bad investments,” Hamilton said through gritted teeth.
“What kind of investments?”
“Two horses that didn’t live up to their potential, and a land deal that’s tied up in litigation.”
“We’re handling it,” Lizbeth said.
“By mortgaging your house?”
“Among other things,” Lizbeth said, her tone icy.
“What other things?”
“We’re considering a number of options,” Royce said, adding reluctantly, “including bankruptcy.”
“You expect us to believe the daughter of a multi-millionaire is on the verge of bankruptcy?”
“This has nothing to do with my father, Sergeant,” Lizbeth snarled. “It’s our problem, and we’re handling it.”
“Are your children the heirs to your brother’s estate?”
Lizbeth gasped. “You think…” Her face flushed, and her eyes filled. “You’re insinuating that we had something to do with what happened to John?”
“What I’m asking,” Sam said, “is if your children are his heirs.”
“I have no idea,” Lizbeth said. “We weren’t privy to the terms of his will.”
“But he was close to your children?”
“He adored them, and they him. They’re heartbroken by his death. And you think we would’ve done that to them—to him—over money?”
Sam shrugged. “He had it, you needed it.”
Shaking with rage, Lizbeth moved out of her husband’s embrace and stepped toward Sam. Speaking in a low, fury-driven tone, she said, “I had only to ask, and he’d have given me anything. Anything. There would’ve been no need for me—or Royce—to kill him for it.”
“So why didn’t you? Why didn’t you ask him for help?”
“Because it was our problem, our business. Other than my husband and children, there was no one in this world I loved more than John. If you think my husband or I killed him, I encourage you to prove it. Now, if there isn’t anything else, I need to take care of my parents.”
“Stay available,” she said to their retreating backs.
After they were gone, Sam turned to Freddie. “Impressions?”
“Pride goeth before the fall.”
“My thoughts exactly. They’d rather declare bankruptcy than let her family know they’re in trouble.”
The door opened, and the chief stepped into the room. “What was that about with the son-in-law?”
“Nothing,” Sam said, deciding it was just that. “Tying up a loose end.”
“You know Nick Cappuano?” the chief asked.