“Can you give me your branch and account numbers? I can verify your account through a few security questions.”
Shit. Colette hadn’t thought about fucking security questions.
“What’s the name on your account?”
She tried Marshall’s grandfather. “Clarence King?” Her mouth turned into a tight frown as she waited for the answer.
“No, think the company. You said it before.”
Cool, Gerald was playing ball. “The King Corporation? Rosebud Ranch?”
“That works. What was the last transaction on the account?”
Colette flipped through her most recent records and listed the last transaction she had documented. Perfect.
“Great. Now, can you give me the five-digit pin on the account?”
Fuck.She hadn’t seen a pin anywhere. She’d have to call someone to get that information. It wasn’t written down. Agnes may have taken that information with her.
“Gerald, can I call you back? I need to contact someone who will have that information. As I said, I’m new here.”
“Sure, no problem. Give me a call at my personal extension.”
She scratched out the phone number and extension for use later and hung up the phone.
Fuck.
So close, yet so far.
As if on cue, another email dropped into her inbox, from Anika Bernard. It was sent from her personal email. Anika didn’t want her employer knowing about it.
Colette read through it quickly at first, then slowly digested the information with a second read.
Hey Colette,
I was able to find some information about that case. I can’t reveal too much, but the client was Lorimer Corporation. The file they had with us was of a small company they owned, Leroy Industries. As I told you before, they settled out of court, so I’m not privy to any details of the settlement. The man we dealt with was Alexander Cunning. He was more of a go-between the company and the law firm. He is not the owner or CEO of the company, more like an assistant or something.
I hope this helps.
Anika
Great. This information was great. Useless, but great. Colette searched “Alexander Cunning,” and a few images popped up. Some obituaries, sad. Well, they were old and lived a good life. She clicked on a few images and her eyes caught on a particular one.
“Fuck.”
It couldn’t be.
Her eyes combed over the photos, some clearly taken at Stampede parties in Calgary. A man with sandy blond hair and a tan cowboy hat that looked awfully familiar. Reminding herself to breathe, Colette scanned through a few more photos.
Landing on a particular photo, Colette paused.
Blinking, she stared at the image, her mind not computing what she was seeing.
Alexander Cunning was posing with none other than Marshall’s uncle. Jarrett King.
Goosebumps scattered all over her skin, and for a moment, her chest seized as her heart seemed to stop in her chest. Wincing, she scanned the image again.
No. It was just a coincidence. She filled her cheeks with air and blew her breath out slowly.
