If I Should Die_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [155]
She had the knowledge to embezzle, but what was her motive? Jealous of her sister? Needed the money? Nothing in her bank statements seemed to indicate a need for funds, but Lucy knew she could have hidden accounts, could be in debt, could be involved with something nefarious.
Nothing else in the car gave Lucy more information. She next went to the Mustang.
“What can I do?” Kyle asked.
“Look for anything that seems out of place—something that doesn’t belong in a barn or garage.”
In the Mustang’s glove box was the registration. Grace Delarosa, at the lodge. Behind it was an older registration. Grace Anderson, Orlando, Florida. She was about to put it back when she saw there were three other papers.
Grace Ann Summers, Chantilly, Virginia. Grace Brooke Jackson, Monterey, California. The last, Grace Marie Holbrook, with a Phoenix, Arizona, address. That registration had expired nine years ago.
Phoenix. Vanessa was from Phoenix.
Heart racing, Lucy wrote down all the names, addresses, and dates and put them back in the glove compartment. She couldn’t get into the trunk, which needed a key because the classic model didn’t have a trunk release.
“Kyle,” she called.
“It’s hard to look for something when you don’t know what you’re looking for,” he said.
“I know. I found what I need.”
“What?”
“Let’s steer clear of Grace for a while.”
“You don’t think—”
“I’m thinking nothing right now except I need more information, and I’d rather not talk to her first.” She also needed to call the sheriff again and give him Grace’s aliases, and tell him that she’d once lived in the same town as the deceased. Phoenix was a big place, but it was too much of a coincidence.
Lucy thought back to Vanessa’s message to her brother.
You were right. We win.
What did she mean?
Trevor hadn’t called Vanessa’s brother yet, and Lucy wanted to be there when he did. But if she let on to Trevor that Vanessa’s death was a homicide, she didn’t know what he would do, or if she could control his reaction. It was best to keep the information to themselves.
Leaving the barn, Lucy looked toward the lodge. Visibility was still poor, but she didn’t see anyone walking around on the porch. The lights in the cottage were off. She turned back to Kyle. “I need you to go back to the house and hang around the porch. Delay anyone coming to the cottage.” She looked at her watch. “I need ten minutes.”
“You’re going to search that place that fast?”
“I know what I’m looking for.” Or she had a good idea.
Kyle reluctantly agreed, and he and Lucy parted ways at the short path—at least, she thought the path was where she turned, buried deep in the snow—that led to the cottage.
She opened the door with the key she had taken. More silence, though as she listened she heard a ticking grandfather clock. The hum of the refrigerator. The deep drone of the generator.
She quickly assessed the layout. There were only two bedrooms, no den, and one great room that had a kitchen and dining area attached to it. She went to the room that was obviously Grace’s and immediately searched her drawers.
At first she found only clothing. She went to the closet, which was packed with thick winter clothes. The floor was a mess of clothes that had fallen off hangers and shoes and folded blankets.
If Lucy needed to hide something, where would she hide it? Not under the bed—though she checked there quickly. Grace wouldn’t have wanted Steve to find it, even accidentally.
She thought back to her brothers and how they never liked to talk about “girl stuff”—namely menstruation. Carina had once told her that she used to hide her chocolate in a Tampax box so Patrick wouldn’t steal it.
“He never looked there, didn’t even consider it.”
Lucy went to the bathroom. The bottom drawer was filled with feminine hygiene