Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“The hell are you wearing?” I couldn’t help asking.
“What do you mean?”
I pointed at him. “What is that?”
His brows furrowed. “Get out of the bed.”
“Again I ask, what are you doing here?” I whispered hoarsely, horrified that Ash would wake up and order all of us out.
He gestured to the other side of the bed, where Owen Moss stood with an open laptop balanced on his right hand and a bug detector in the other.
“Oh God,” I groaned softly.
Tipping his head at Ash, Owen smiled. “That is a gorgeous man.”
“That man is going to lose his shit when he wakes up and finds you two in here,” I tried to yell quietly, sounding ridiculous.
“Get out of the bed,” Nash demanded through clenched teeth.
“I’m naked under here,” I snapped under my breath but sat up.
Charging into the bathroom, Nash returned moments later with a really nice-looking velour robe that must’ve belonged to Ash. Wadding it up instead of passing it to me like a human being, he beaned me in the face with it and then turned around, as did Owen, so I could get up.
Once covered, I herded the two of them out, closed the door to the bedroom, and followed them to the living room.
“What the fuck?” I snarled at Nash under my breath.
He gestured at Owen, who turned his laptop around to face me.
“What am I looking at?” I asked irritably, because to me, it was a picture of a high-end restaurant overlooking a large body of water. It was hard to tell what body of water, as there were no discernible landmarks.
“This is from Ash Lennox’s camera roll,” Owen said. “This photo was taken in San Francisco, in North Beach, last week.”
The significance was lost on me, but the picture evidently meant something to Owen. The thing about him—infuriating and endearing at the same time—was that Owen always thought that everyone around him was both as smart and as informed as he was. The photograph was important, but for the life of me, I didn’t understand why.
“This is a picture you think Ash took?” I repeated to Owen.
“That’s right,” Owen said, then blew up the photo of the table so I could see the other people there—a woman and three men.
“Okay. Tell me what this is.”
“Ash was sitting here,” Owen shared, pointing at the empty chair next to the woman.
“Okay…”
Swiping left, I saw the next photo was a close-up of Ash with the man who had been seated across from Ash’s vacated chair. I glanced at Owen, who was looking at me expectantly.
“Seems like Ash wanted to take a couple pictures of this guy, but not the woman or the two others?” I guessed.
Owen nodded.
“I’ll bite. Who is he?”
“That is Elliot Voss,” Owen explained.
I knew that name, didn’t I?
“He’s a fugitive, as he was supposed to appear before the United States Securities and Exchange Commission to testify against his business partner, Gregory Rhodes, regarding accusations of—”
“I know who Rhodes is. He’s the guy who bankrolls all those start-ups. He’s a shipping magnate, tycoon, whatever, right?”
“He was, but at the moment, as he stands accused of defrauding millions from his investors after a string of bad investments, he’s a fugitive like Voss, as he too failed to appear before the SEC to answer questions about fraud and embezzlement.”
“So Rhodes got in trouble first, and then Voss got in trouble for not answering questions about Rhodes. Do I have that right?”
“You do.”
“And now, since you’re using the word fugitive, I can only assume that both are on the run from the FBI.”
“Well, Rhodes is.”
I would have asked him to explain, but I was trying to remember… “Isn’t Voss in trouble for something else besides money?”
“I see you’re on top of the current news cycle across the country,” Nash chimed in. “The San Francisco police labeled Voss a person of interest in the disappearance of his wife.”
“Which means they think he killed her.”
“Yes,” Nash confirmed. “There’s not enough evidence at the moment that he did anything wrong other than Carrie Voss going missing from their house in Bodega Bay.”
“Define missing.”
“Bijou de Loughery, Carrie’s best friend, was supposed to meet her there, but when she arrived, Carrie was nowhere to be found.”
“And was there evidence that she had been?”
“Yes. Her car was parked in the driveway, her purse, wallet, keys, phone, and some shopping bags were in the kitchen.”
“Signs of a struggle?”
“No, everything was pristine.”
“Huh. Okay, well, who reported her disappearance to the police?”
“Bijou. She was distraught and assured the police that Voss had done something to her friend.”
“Have they been able to locate Voss and question him about his wife?”
“No, he’s in the wind.”
“When did he disappear?”
“He skipped out on the SEC the week before his wife went missing. The Thursday that Carrie disappeared, the housekeeper and their personal chef arrived at the house in Presidio Heights around nine, and Carrie Voss was there to greet them. She had breakfast, gave the housekeeper some extra directions because she was planning to have friends over for dinner, and then left. She did tell both ladies that she was going to the house in Bodega Bay to meet Bijou and play tennis.”