Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“And that leaves Freddy.” I flip to the team’s notes on the little bastard. “Finance graduate. Good family. Bit of a black sheep, but we all have one of those.” I scroll through random shit that has the hallmarks of Theo written all over it. “Took a wrong turn about a year ago. He wanted Dahlia back. Ninety-three calls to her cell phone over the past seven days. Charges pending.”
If he wanted her back, why would he threaten her to leave? The odds don’t favor her running to him. It doesn’t make sense. Not really.
“But none of this makes fucking sense,” I groan again, growing agitated. “What am I missing, dammit?”
I look back through the names and hover over Alexis Dallo.
“He says he fell in love with her at first sight. Her letter said he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.” Dahlia’s words about her parents filter through my mind.
“When, exactly, did Joseph Dallo marry Alexis?” I ask, my fingertips flying across the keyboard. Newspaper articles load in seconds. “Three years ago on July twenty-second.”
My heart lodges in my throat as I search again. This time, it’s for an obituary. “Penelope Lovelace died …” I scroll down the page. Fuck. “Three years ago on March first.”
I stare at the dates on the screen. “He waited until Penelope died before he married Alexis? That’s either ironic or … not.”
Puzzle pieces snap together, but I don’t have enough to see the entire picture. But I know from experience that when too many pieces go together too easily, it’s because they belong there.
“This could mean that ol’ Joe was in love with Penelope and couldn’t move on as long as she lived.” I try to imagine being with another woman and knowing Dahlia walks the planet. “Definitely possible. Or it could mean …”
I glance at the clock. It’s late. Very late.
But fuck it. Ford knows how to silence a ringer if he doesn’t want to be woken up.
It rings twice before he answers it. “Landry.”
“Hey.”
“What are you doing calling so late? Everything okay?”
“Can’t sleep. The bed’s too soft. You?”
“Can’t sleep. No room. Ellie’s currently lying across it diagonally.”
I snort. “Can’t you buy a bigger bed?”
“Man, she’ll just jack that one, too. I love her, but she’s like sleeping with an alligator who does the death spiral randomly through the night.”
“Where do you sleep?” I ask.
“Couch.”
“You don’t have a guest room or something?”
Ford laughs. “I happily take the couch because that means she’s in my bed. And, at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.”
I glance up the stairs and grin.
“Anyway, why are you calling me at four in the morning?” he asks.
“How hard have you looked into Alexis Dallo?”
“Her background report’s squeaky clean. She’s done community service out of the kindness of her heart. Has a degree in nursing but isn’t using it right now. She was a pageant queen. I mean, she’s basically the thirty-year-old version of an All-American girl.”
I narrow my eyes, mulling this over again.
Thirty. She’s only a few years older than Dahlia.
Would Alexis be jealous of her much older husband’s love for a woman who’s so close in age they could be sisters? Would it matter that Dahlia was his daughter?
I don’t know. Some women, insecure women, can be petty over things like that. And Alexis isn’t working, so she has time on her hands.
What if … “I think you need to take a closer look.”
“What’s your working theory?”
I get to my feet and wander around the living room. The bookshelves lining the living room's far wall are filled with books, mementos, and pictures. Multiple framed images of Lincoln and his family fill nearly every empty space on the shelves. I can almost hear their laughter through the photographs, and I wonder what this house is like when they’re all here.
Is something like that a possibility someday for a guy like me?
“Working theory,” I say, refocusing. “Dallo married Alexis around four months after Dahlia’s mom passed away.”
“And?”
“I wonder if our blushing bride knew her sugar daddy already had a baby with someone else? Hadn’t married anyone else until the love of his life passed away?”
“Okay …”
“I can’t ask Dahlia. She isn’t going to know that, and I don’t want to plant ideas in her head in case I’m wrong. If I’m completely off course, I won’t ruin their relationship over a hunch.”
“You know, it makes sense.”
I nod. “Think about it. You’re a beautiful thirty-year-old woman in the prime of your life. And you marry an old rich dude with no kids. I’m not saying she’s a gold digger. But she didn’t marry an old poor dude or an old rich dude with a great reputation.”
“Then you marry him …”
“And realize you’re splitting the inheritance. You’re riding that old cock for half.”
Ford sighs. “You might be right.”