Near midnight, he started going through a box of paperwork he knew Hamish had already sorted through, but he hadn’t yet. There was a hodge-podge of items, from handwritten notes to ledgers, business papers, and bills for the estate, all in the same ten-year timeframe.
Then something hit him as he stared at one paper, an invoice for electrical work done at the house. On the back, someone had scribbled notes.
Ken stared at the paperwork, a horrible idea now blossoming inside him. “Stupid question, Jake,” he said. “And an indelicate one. I apologize in advance.”
“Yeah?”
Ken couldn’t pull his eyes from the paper in his hand. “Did you actually see your wife’s body?”
The room went silent. Ken looked at the man, hating the stunned expression he wore. “What?” Jake hoarsely asked.
“Did you positively identify her body?”
Jake blinked, confused. He started to answer, hesitated, then dropped into a chair behind him. “I mean, there was a fire. She was badly burned. Beyond recognition.”
Ken pressed. “But was it confirmed? DNA, dental work? Anything?”
Jake stared at Ken. “She was driving her car,” he hoarsely said. “It ran off the road and flipped. Her wedding ring and jewelry were on…her.”
Ken stood and walked over to him, the paper in his hand. “But did you identify her? Positively?”
Peyton joined them. “What are you saying, Ken?”
Ken handed him the paper. “This is what I’m saying.” He pointed. “This note was written on a bill from, what, 35 years ago? When did the accident happen?” Ken asked Jake.
“Shit!” Peyton gasped.
Jake looked from Ken to Peyton and back. “What is your point?”
Ken took the paper from Peyton and handed it to Jake. “Your wife’s name is Maya, correct?” With trembling hands, Jake took the paper from Ken. “Right there,” Ken said, pointing to the handwritten scribble.
Maya P, followed by two long groups of numbers.
And a dollar amount:
$2.5M
Trevor looked over Jake’s shoulder, frowning. “Those are bank account routing numbers,” he said. “I’d bet my life on it.”
Horror dawned on the other men’s faces as Ken’s implication finally struck home.
“What if this is a payment from Faegan to Ray Dorland? Jake, you said you heard rumors Ray wanted to sell her off, right?”
He slowly nodded, his gaze fixed on the sheet of paper.
“How can we find out which bank?” Ken asked Trevor.
“Give me a tick.” Trevor snapped a picture of the numbers and sent a text. Not even a minute later, his phone dinged with a text, and fury filled his face.
He held his phone up so the others could see the response.
First Royal Bank of Sydney.
As in Australia.
A collectively gasped, “Fuck!” filled the room.
Ken looked at Peyton. “How does the timing look between when Maya ‘died’ and when Faegan killed his son, Ben?”
