Chapter 8 - Rebecca Sloan
Police found no body.
Claire had simply vanished.
Richard told investigators he had spoken to her briefly and then gone home. His home security system supported his story—because two exterior cameras had stopped recording for exactly forty-seven minutes.
Marcus traced Rebecca Sloan through old Nevada corporate records.
She had owned twenty percent of the shell company my father discovered before my wedding.
The other eighty percent belonged to Richard.
"Who is she?" I asked.
Marcus slid a photo across the table.
A blonde woman stood beside Richard at a charity race twelve years earlier.
They looked young.
And close.
"They dated before you met him," Marcus said.
"Why would my father call her a beneficiary?"
"Because Richard bought a two-million-dollar life insurance policy in her name three months before he proposed to you."
I stared at him.
"On himself?"
"No. On you."
My mouth went dry.
"He couldn't insure me without my knowledge."
"He didn't. The application was never completed. Your father found it before it went through."
Evelyn's expression hardened.
"So the idea existed before the marriage."
Richard had not become dangerous because of my pregnancy.
He had been studying my death before we exchanged vows.
Marcus's phone rang.
He listened, then stood.
"They found Claire."
She was alive in a motel outside Sacramento, terrified and bruised.
Someone had forced her off the road, taken her laptop, and warned her to disappear.
Claire agreed to speak only if I was present.
When I entered the safe interview room on crutches, she burst into tears.
"I'm sorry."
"Tell me everything."
Claire wiped her face.
"Richard isn't working alone."
"Rebecca?"
May you like
Claire shook her head.
"Your brother."
