Jem’s memory of the night before got cloudy around the time he’d left the chalet—something about falling into the tree well and almost dying had screwed with his head.What had happened?He’d stepped into the bedroom at the back of Tafton’s chalet.He’d turned on the lights.He’d seen Stephen in the mirror—
“What if he wasn’t planting evidence?”Jem said.“What if he was trying to find something?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.What would Tafton have that he’d want?”
Tean shook his head.“I don’t know.I didn’t think Tafton had anything to do with it, aside from being a victim.He was someone who was easy to frame.”
There had been something, staring at Stephen in the mirror, seeing him reflected back.
Jem almost had it.
And then he said, “Fuck me sideways and call me Dolly,” and scrambled over to the fireplace.
Like the one in Jem and Tean’s hotel room, it was gas.The pilot light flickered greenish-blue.A faint layer of dust lay on the grate.More dust lay on top of the logs—
Except where they’d been brushed clear.
Say, because someone had braced himself there with one hand.
Jem twisted around and squirmed backward.He bumped his head on the grate, swore, and reached back—partially to steady himself, partially to keep from bashing his own head in.He grabbed one of the logs and used it to guide himself.
And there, above him, was a packet of plastic-wrapped documents.
He ripped the packet free, tape crinkling as it pulled away from the chimney, and wiggled clear of the fireplace.Tossing the documents to Tean, he said, “What do they say?”
Tean flinched, but he caught the plastic-wrapped bundle.He opened it, pulled out the documents, and scanned them.
“What does it say?”Jem asked.“What does it say?”
“Just a minute,” Tean said.But almost immediately, he said, “This is a bank statement.The account is for something called Salvation Coaching, LLC.”He frowned.“That’s not the name of his company, though.On the website, it was Fitzpatrick Spiritual Coaching.”Turning back to the document, he said, “There are deposits here—they match the payments that Sawyer was telling us about.Different amounts for each person.Five hundred.A thousand.My gosh, someone paid six thousand dollars last month.”
“Tafton and Nora,” Jem said.“Or Mommy and Daddy.”
“That’s a lot of money,” Tean said.“The account balance is zero because everything gets transferred out.There’s a transfer here—it goes to an account ending one-six-five-one.And then two other transfers go out the same day.These two are for the same amount, but they go to different accounts.”
It was starting to take shape.Jem could see the outline of it.
Tean flipped to the next document.“Another bank statement, but this one is for Heart2Heart Solutions, LLC.The account number ends in one-six-five-one, and the transfer is right here.This statement goes back several months.”He flipped through the pages.“The same amount of money gets transferred every month.Is it a payment?Or is this some sort of investment account?”
“It’s a game,” Jem said.He laughed.“Holy shit.They’re running a game on him.”
“On whom?What game?”
“On Gerald.I mean, they were.Until he got killed.”
Tean smoothed the pages across his knee.“Stephen always collected the money.”
“Gerald wanted him to handle the money, right?”Jem couldn’t stop grinning.“He preferred it.That way, Gerald could be the spiritual one and act like he wasn’t bilking people out of their hard-earned cash.”
“But Stephen started charging more,” Tean said.“And he kept the difference for himself.”
“Not for himself.For himself and somebody else.”Jem grabbed the first document, the one Tean had already looked at, and indicated the two matching transfers.“He’s splitting the take with somebody.”
Tean stared at the page.He was biting his lip, and those bushy eyebrows were drawn together.He ran his hand blindly over the pages on his knee again and said, “Who?”
“That’s the million-dollar question,” Jem said.“We find that out, and we know who killed Gerald.”
