Page 36 of Three Steps Behind

“Give them a call in a couple hours, and I bet they’ll tell you—since you were close with Taylor?”

“Very tight.”

“Worst case, you have to wait until the executor files it with the courts and then it’s public record.”

“Can you tell us who the executor is?” Harper pushed.

“Talk to Steve.” Lindsay pushed the legal pad back along with her chair and got to her feet. “If that’s all, I need to prepare for the reading.”

“Of course.” Deck stood and pulled out Harper’s chair for her.

Harper slid her purse strap up on her shoulder. “Thank you for your time.”

“You’re welcome. Best of luck. And . . . if you don’t mind, keep me posted on the case. Seems like you might not be too off base.”

Harper and Deck exited the building into the biting wind. “Well,” Harper said, “I’d say that confirms Nick knew about the impending divorce.”

“Could definitely be motive, especially as he probably has zero idea she changed her will.”

“Which he can contest, but I doubt he’ll get anywhere with that.”

“Agreed.”

Deck opened the truck door for her, and she climbed inside, thankful for shelter from the wind. She smiled at Deck. Thankful for shelter, period. God might have abandoned her, but Deck had not.

“Let’s grab some lunch and do some digging,” Deck suggested. “Blake’s Lot-O-Burger sound okay?”

“Green chile cheeseburgers always sound amazing.” If her stomach would actually let her eat and not reject the burger as it had nearly everything else. At least the milkshake went down smoothly.

Deck shifted the truck into drive and pulled out of the lot.

“Where should we start?” She rubbed her hands in front of the heater, the warmth kicking in remarkably fast.

“I think we see where else Nick might get money from.”

“Good idea. We should start with examining if he had a life insurance policy on Taylor. If so, he could be in for millions.”

Sixteen

HARPER’S HAND SHOOK as she grappled with her keys. Being home wouldn’t feel like home. While her condo had once been a haven of safety, now she saw only isolation, despite the neighbors. Safety was at Deck’s ranch for now. When it would return here, she didn’t know. She only knew it wasn’t now, not yet.

Deck waited while she fumbled with her keys, finally sliding one into the lock and entered.

Darkness engulfed them—no moon peeking through the cloud-covered sky out the front window. A sky ready to let another snowstorm loose. “I’ll get the lights.” She moved for the front table lamp, but her hand never made contact.

“That’s weird,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“My lamp’s not where it usually is.” Had she moved it before leaving? No. She never moved it. Trepidation snaked down her spine, and Deck pulled his Glock.

“Stay by the door and be ready to call 911.”

Adrenaline streamed through her limbs, heating her, posing her for fight-or-flight. Which would she choose now that she was back on home territory? She hoped fight. Hoped things would be different and she’d be back to her bold self.

“Next closest light is by the sofa, right?” Deck whispered.

She nodded, still close enough for him to note the movement.