Page 32 of Three Steps Behind

“Correct. That cheating scumbag.” She examined the pictures. “There’s no clear shot of the woman. Regardless, Taylor was right. And to think she felt bad about doubting him. . . .”

“She did?” He made a right onto the two-lane road leading back to downtown Santa Fe, where they’d catch the one road in and out of Jeopardy Falls.

“Yeah. She couldn’t shake the feeling he was cheating, but at other times she felt bad for even thinking it.”

“I doubt she felt bad about getting those.”

“I wonder when she got them. Must’ve been after I left for Syria. Probably had no one else she trusted to talk to. That sucks.”

“What does the letter say?”

“Oh right.” She unfolded the letter. “These are divorce papers signed by Taylor.”

“Whoa. What about Nick’s signature?”

“Nada.” She shook her head.

“Do you think she showed them to him, and he just refused to sign?” Deck made another right—the winter sun streaming through the windshield.

“I don’t think so. I have a feeling she was biding her time for the right moment.”

“Which would have been . . . ?”

“Knowing Taylor—who hated confrontations—I’d bet she’d move out while Nick was on one of his numerous business trips and leave the papers on the kitchen island for when he got back. Though I doubt they were really business trips at this point.”

He tapped the steering wheel. “Wait a minute. Didn’t you say they were trying to have a baby?”

“Yeah. I’m sure that changed as soon as she saw these.” She tapped the photographs into a straight pile against her hand. “I wonder who the woman is and if he’s still seeing her.”

“Unfortunately, I’d guess yes.”

“Me too, and I have an idea.”

“To quote the cliché, why don’t I like the sound of that?”

She smiled. Actually smiled. The first since . . . She shook off the thought.

“You okay?” Deck asked, entirely too perceptive.

“Yep.” Not even close. But she wasn’t up to delving into that pain. And besides, she had smiled. She’d take that as a good sign. Working this case—though she was terribly saddened by the loss of her friend—would keep her distracted and focused at the same time. And if there was foul play involved, she’d prove it.

“So what do we do next?” Deck asked as they entered Santa Fe’s downtown district.

“I think we should talk with Taylor’s lawyer.”

Fifteen

“OKAY. I SEE the sign.” Collins Law Firm. Deckard pulled into the oversized lot in front of what looked like a historic carriage house—as large as a sprawling hacienda—with an arched wooden door that Harper guessed led to a courtyard.

He looked over at Harper. “Let’s do this.”

She nodded, and they climbed out of the truck.

Ice patches covered the lot. “Do you want to hold my hand through the lot?” he asked.

“Yes.” She placed her hand in his. Just having his warm skin against hers was soothing. And she needed anything that could anchor and soothe her in the present.

Treading carefully, they made their way to the wooden front door. A large wolf knocker sat mounted in the center of it. With a glance at Deckard and a nod from him, she clanged it.