“What are you talking about, Vicki?” he asked, but he knew. The stew of guilt in his stomach was churning in overdrive. “Let’s go back to Mansfield Manor, have a nice cup of tea.” He reached out for her arm, but she shook him off. Turned away, both of her hands gripping the rough wooden railing as if she were contemplating hurling herself over it into the frigid ocean below. “Vicki, my lovey-dove-dove—”

“Don’t.” There was no bite in her words, no accusation, which was somehow scarier. “I never would have known if I hadn’t pulled the Rainsford trust documents. I thought maybe you would need them to verify who you were to the authorities. I glanced through them this morning while you were in the shower, wanting to make sure everything was in order for you. Surprise. My name doesn’t appear anywhere on that trust document. There is no codicil or addendum. I’ve been doing all the work, and it’s all in your name. Legally, only you are entitled to the bragging rights, the credit, and most importantly, the fees. Now, I’m curious, as you can imagine, so I pulled up other trust documents on my laptop. The Smith trust, the Davidson one, the Phil Stork trust. All these, mind you, are documents you’d told me I was now co-trustee on. Nothing.” Her voice quiet, flat, emotionless.

“Vicki, I can’t add your name as a trustee. You should know that. It’s basic 101. Only the person who set up the trust or the courts can add or change a trustee. Barbara and Ryan are dead. The only way the terms of the Rainsford trust can be changed or a co-trustee added is if Sarah is found and she applies to the courts to make a change. Same goes for the other trusts I handle—”

She whirled to face him, anger flooding her face, which oddly was a relief from the flat detachment. “Then why did you send me on that goose chase? Why encourage me to get my FINRA and CFP designations?”

“I didn’t think you would.” She took a step toward him, her mouth tight, fists clenched. Phillip made the decision to take a couple of steps back. She looked magnificent in her fury, as if she might actually haul off and slug him. “And then,” he added hastily, appealing to her reason, “when you actually started . . . I don’t know.” He turned his hands upward, aware of the pleading quality that had entered his voice. “I guess you were so excited and proud, and I was, too.” He attempted to reach for her, but she jerked away, her arms crossed.

“So where did the extra salary come from? The bump in pay, since I wasn’t actually entitled to collect a fee on those accounts.”

“Out of my pocket.”