Chapters (29)
- Back Cover Text
- Dear Reader
- Booklist
- Contents
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgements
- Fatal Series FAQs
- About the Fatal series
- About the Author
- Carina Press BPA
- Copyright
“I’ll do everything I can for them.”
“Thanks, Erica. Let me introduce you to them so you can get the ball rolling.”
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
An hour later, Sam had sent the girls off with Erica, promising to check on them soon. Freddie had graciously volunteered to stay with them a while longer while they warmed up to Erica. Her partner was never better than in situations that required a gentle touch, and she was enormously grateful for that quality in him. She’d have to tell him that the next time she had the chance.
Hill appeared in the doorway to Sam’s office. “I’ve got something else. Elle was arrested last week by Fairfax County police after a tirade in Neiman Marcus at Tyson Galleria.”
Sam’s inner fashionista stood up to take notice when she heard the name of one of her all-time favorite malls. “What happened?”
“Apparently, her credit card was declined, and she raised holy hell about it. Mall security ended up calling Fairfax County police. She was charged with disorderly conduct and released on personal recognizance. She’s due back in court next month to answer to the charges.”
“Did you run her credit?”
His raised brow was the only change in his expression. “Honestly, Sam. Give me some credit, will you?”
“My apologies,” Sam said, holding back a smile she knew he wouldn’t appreciate. “Please proceed.”
“She’s in debt up to her eyeballs. Every card is maxed out. All the money is gone. She’s in big trouble. The paper is in trouble. The team is in trouble.”
“What about Ray?”
“Miraculously, other than the one joint account that she tapped to pay the bodyguards, he kept his finances separate from hers when they got married. I can’t help but think she and her father insisted on that to protect their money. But it ended up protecting his. He’s not the fat cat the Kopelsmans are—or were—but he’s hardly destitute. Other than the two checks from the joint account the day after the game, there is nothing out of the ordinary with any of his accounts.”
“Do you think he knows about the hole she’s dug for herself?”
“Probably not. Their marriage isn’t what I’d call conventional.”
“How do you mean?”
“She does her thing, and he does his.”
“And the World Series rights would’ve solved all her problems.”