And if he did? Thats my business"

I spent an entire year calling you, getting you out of that farm- house, making sure you went to work. I was there for you, worrying about you" cleaning up the mess he made. So do not tell me I dont get to have a reaction when he whispers in your ear"

Lizzie put her hand up to the womans face. Done. Were done here.

Ill see you in the morning.

Marching off, she cursed under her breath the entire way down to her car, and after she got her laptop, she f- bombed the long way back to the house. Deliberately avoiding the kitchen and the conservatory"

because she didnt want to run into Greta as the woman packed up" she entered through the library, and without thinking, headed for the hall- way that led to the staff stairs and the kitchen. She didnt get far. Just as she rounded the corner, she was stopped by two police officers" and that was when she saw the body on a rolling stretcher.

Rosalinda Freelands remains had been placed in a white bag with a five- foot zipper that had mercifully been pulled closed.

{ 184 }.

Maam, one of the officers said, Im going to have to ask you to step aside.

Yes, yes, sorry. Ducking her eyes and swallowing her nausea, she wheeled around. Tried not to think about what had happened.

Failed.

Shed given her name to the police, just like the rest of the staff had, and provided a brief statement of where shed been all morning as well as over the past few days. When asked about the controller, she hadnt had much to offer. She hadnt known Rosalinda any better than anyone had; the woman had kept to herself and her bill processing and that was that.

Lizzie wasnt even sure if there were any family to notify.

Using the main staircase was a violation of that Easterly etiquette, but considering there was a coroners van parked out front and a crime scene down that staff hall, she was confident in letting go of business as usual. Up on the second floor, she made her way over the pale runner, passing by the oil paintings and the occasionals that gleamed with age and superior craftsmanship.

As she came up to Lanes door, she couldnt remember the last time she and Greta had fought about anything. God, she wanted to call the woman and . . . but what could she say?

Drop the laptop off and leave, she told herself. Thats it.

Lizzie knocked on the door. Lane?

Come in.

Pushing her way into the bedroom, she found him standing at the windows, one foot planted on the sill, his forearm braced on his raised knee. He didnt turn and acknowledge her. Didnt say anything else.

Lane? She glanced around. No one was with him. Listen, Ill just leave it"

I need your help.

Taking a deep breath, she said, Okay.

But he stayed silent as he stared out at the garden. And God help her, it was impossible not to run her eyes over him. She told herself she was looking for signs of strain" that she wasnt measuring his muscular { 185 }.

shoulders. The short hair at the base of his neck. The biceps that had curled up and were straining the short sleeves of his polo shirt.

Hed changed clothes since shed seen him last. Had taken a shower, too" she could smell the shampoo, the aftershave.

Im sorry about Rosalinda, she whispered. What a shock.

Hmm.

Who found her?

I did.

Lizzie closed her eyes and hugged the laptop to her chest. Oh, God.

Abruptly, he put his hand into the front pocket of his slacks and took something out. Will you stay with me while I open this?

What is it?

Something she left behind. He showed her a black USB drive. I found it on her desk.

Is it a . . . suicide note?

I dont think so. He sat down on the bed and nodded at her laptop.

Do you mind if I . . . ?

Oh, yes. She joined him, flipping open the Lenovo and hitting the power button. I have Microsoft Office so . . . yeah. Word documents are no problem.

I dont think thats what it is.

Signing in, she passed the computer over to him. Here.

He pushed the drive in and waited. When the screen flashed a vari- ety of options, he hit open files.

There was only one on the drive, and it was marked William- Baldwine.

Lizzie rubbed her eyebrow with her thumb. Are you sure you want me to see this?

Im sure I cant look at it without you here.

Lizzie found herself reaching up and resting her hand on his shoul- der. Im not going to leave you.

For some reason, she thought of that peach lingerie shed found be- hind his fathers bed. Hardly something that Rosalinda would wear" a { 186 }.

lighter tone of gray was the closest the controller had ever come to whoopin it up on the wardrobe front. Then again, who knew what the woman had underneath all those proper skirts and jackets?

Lane clicked on the file and Lizzie was aware of her heart pounding like shed run a full- tilt mile.

And he was right. It wasnt some kind of love letter or a suicide note.

It was a spreadsheet full of columns of numbers and dates and short descriptions that Lizzie was too far away from the screen to read.

What is all that? she asked.

Fifty- three million dollars, he muttered, scrolling down. Ill bet its fifty- three million dollars.

What do you mean? Wait . . . are you saying she stole that?

No, but I think she helped my father to.

What.

He glanced over at her. I think my father finally has blood on his hands. Or at least . . . blood we can see.

{ 187 }.

T W ENT Y- ONE.

R efocusing on the computer in his lap, Lane scrolled down the Excel spreadsheet, tracing the entries, trying to add up a rough total. But he neednt have bothered. Rosalinda provided the sum to him at the very end, in a bolded box offset at the far right of all the columns.

It was not, in fact, fifty- three million dollars.

Nope, it was sixty- eight million, four hundred eighty- nine thou- sand, two hundred forty- two dollars and sixty- five cents.

$68,489,242.65.

The explanations on the withdrawals ranged from Cartier and Tif- fany to Bradford Aviation, LLC, which was the corporation that ran all the companys planes and pilots, and Bradford Human Resources Payroll" which most likely took care of the household staffs paychecks.

But there was a repeating entry that he didnt recognize: WWB Holdings.

William Wyatt Baldwine Holdings.

Had to be.

But what was that?

{ 188 }.

The lions share had gone into it.

I think my father . . . He glanced over at Lizzie. I dont know, the trust company says hes put himself" or the family, I guess" into huge debt. For what, though? Even with all this spending, there should be plenty of cash coming in through Bradford Bourbon Company distribu- tions to shareholders, of which we are the largest group.

The rental company . . . Lizzie murmured.

What?

The rental company didnt get paid"their accounts payable called Rosalinda last week and she never got back to them.

Who else do we owe, I wonder?

How can I help?

He stared over at her, his brain churning, churning. Letting me get into this file is a good start.

What else?

God, her eyes were blue, he thought. And her lips, those naturally red lips of hers were so perfectly shaped.

She was talking to him, but he couldnt hear her. It was as if a muf- fling had come down around him, making him unaware of any sounds around him. And then the computer in his lap and all of its secrets re- vealed disappeared, too, so that neither the glow of the screen nor the pattern of the columns nor the numbers and letters registered, either.

Lizzie, he said, cutting her off.

Yes?

I need you, he heard himself say hoarsely.

Of course, what can I"

He leaned in and put his lips to hers, brushing quick"

She gasped and pulled away.

Lane waited for her to get up. Tell him off. Maybe go eighties ro- mance and slap him with an open palm.

Instead, she brought her fingertips up and touched her mouth. Then she closed her eyes. I wish you hadnt done that.

Fuck. Im sorry. He dragged a hand through his hair. Im not in my right head.

{ 189 }.

She nodded. Yes.

Perfect, he thought. His life was on fire on too many fronts to count, so why shouldnt he drop another load of flames somewhere else. You know, just to help the inferno along.

Im sorry, he said. I should have just"

She launched herself at him with such a quick shift, he nearly jerked away himself. What saved him was the wanting . . . the vicious craving hed always had for her that was all pent up from the time theyd been apart.

Lizzie spoke against his mouth. Im not in my right head, either.

With a curse, he wrapped his arms around her and dragged her into his lap, the computer sliding off onto the thick carpet" which was fine.

He wanted to forget about the money, his father, Rosalinda . . . even if just for a moment.

Im sorry, he said as he pushed her down on the mattress with a twist. I need you. I just . . . I need to be in you"

Knock, knock, knock.

They both froze, their eyes meeting.

What, he barked out.

As a muted female voice said something about towels, all Lane thought about was the fact that that door was not locked.