“Rivers, I wish I could say I was glad to hear from you.”
I let out an unamused chuckle. “Great to hear it. So, hey, I was just wondering how the investigation into the Bennett murder is going.”
“As if I would tell you everything about an ongoing investigation where your client is the prime suspect.”
I grab the pen and start mindlessly doodling. “Yes, of course. I was just curious if you’ve looked into Bennett’s business dealings. Word on the street is that maybe there was something going on with those.”
Another sigh. “I’m going to reiterate to you that I’m not going to tell you anything.”
I continue doodling until I realize I’ve just writtenLily. I quickly scratch it out. “I’m not asking you to give me a detailed rundown of all the evidence you’ve collected. I was just hoping to get something.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I can hear the hum of voices in the background. I try another tactic. “Bennett had an attorney who worked for him for a long time. His name isVernon. I don’t know his last name, but I’m sure Li—his wife—would be able to tell you.”
Wilcox clears his throat. “We’re aware of Vernon and have spoken to him at length.”
My pen freezes. Not that I expected him to spill everything or even tell me he was interrogated, but I’m curious why he wouldn’t have said anything. Unless he really does think Lily did it, and that’s what he told the detectives.
I know my next question is a long shot, but I figure, what the hell? “And what did Vernon have to say?”
With a raspy chuckle, Wilcox says, “Rivers, you’re annoying as shit. The last few years have been blissfully silent and peaceful.”
Not being able to resist the barb, I reply, “Ah, yes. I’m sure the fine men and women of the Nashville police department had a grand old time putting innocent people behind bars without anyone to fight back against them.”
With an angry growl, the phone slams down in my ear. Cringing at the sound, I pull the phone away and set it back on my desk.
That wasn’t a complete bust. At least I now know they did, in fact, talk to Vernon. I wonder if I can get Vernon to talk to me. I looked through the few things Carlos gave me, but there wasn’t anything overly helpful that I could use to convince Vernon to give me information that would help. But maybe I could figure out a way to spin something to my advantage.
But until then, I need to focus on remembering that Lily is only my client.
13
Lily
This week has been hell. Not so much because of everything with Blake, which is its own kind of stressor, but because we’re in the middle of five huge marketing campaigns that we cannot drop the ball on. These are clients that could be game changers for the growth of our company, and there’s no way I’m going to let the team down after all the hard work they’ve done by letting all the rest of my life get in the way.
But now it’s Friday, and the house was released by the police on Wednesday. Chris organized a cleaning crew to come in yesterday. I decided to stop by to grab a few things afterwards, but I have no interest in staying here.
I just packed a suitcase and carried it downstairs. Grabbing my phone, I check my messages. I only have one from Anna, telling me that if I’m interested in going to the farmers’ market with her tomorrow, I’d be more than welcome tojoin. I text her back that I’ll let her know in the morning, and I appreciate her offer.
It’s so weird being back in the house. The silence and the chill in the air give it an eerie feel.
Maybe I should get a dog one day.
Blake hated dogs. Which makes sense. Dogs love you unconditionally. Blake never wanted, gave, or deserved love, so I’m sure a creature that shared it so freely would make him horribly uncomfortable.
I should probably figure out where I’m going to live first before I even consider getting a pet. Because it definitely won’t be here. Having the house to myself without the concern that Blake would find me at any moment piques the curiosity about what, if anything, is here that I don’t know about. I head back upstairs and start with his nightstand. Besides some condoms that he certainly wasn’t using with me, I don’t find anything of interest.
It isn’t long before I’m standing in front of Blake’s office door. It makes me nervous to think about going in here. I guess old habits die hard. Blake would’ve been mad if I went into his office. And even more livid if I looked through it.
It’s possible that the cops have already taken everything helpful. But Blake did like to hide things, mainly from me, so depending on how thorough they were, they might have missed something.
I need answers. Not that I really care or want it, but I need to know where Blake’s money went. What could he have been doing that he has so little left?
I grip the handle, the metal cool under my palm, and I push the sliding door open. The door is a large, ornate wood sliding door that I always loved. I thought this would make a cozy library, but Blake turned it into a boring office with almost no charm or personality.
Much like my late husband.
I pad over to his desk, my bare feet silent on the area rug. Sliding the chair out, I lower myself into it. I know that I should feel sad, but I’m having a hard time identifying that particular emotion in the jumbled mess inside me.
