Page 109 of Playing With Danger

Her hand plunged forward and searing pain tore through my abdomen.

My mouth opened to scream but nothing came out.

28

“Sister?” Hayden snarled.

“Half-sister,” Brady corrected.

I had to look away from Hayden’s pain-filled, ravaged face.

He was wrecked.

Not that I blamed him, but the guy needed to get his shit sorted or he needed to go find an office to work through what he was feeling.

That was not me being heartless.

I got it.

I felt it.

But now was not the time to process that the woman you brought into your home was a lying, scheming bitch.

Brady had wasted no time digging into Milton Huxley. Not that he had to dig deep; the man lived open just as most normal, everyday, average citizens did. He didn’t hide because he had nothing to hide. Widower. Homeowner. Paid his bills and taxes on time. He wasn’t obscenely wealthy but he had a lot of money. And according to his trust, his eldest daughter was to inherit two-hundred-and-fifty thousand dollars. His youngest would receive the same. If one or the other were deceased before the inheritance was claimed it went to the other sister. They were also to split the remainder of a four-hundred-thousand-dollar life insurance policy after his final expenses were paid. And all property Milton owned was to be split equally. Unless one of them wasn’t living, then the other would absorb all the assets. And the kicker…there was seventy-five thousand set aside for Lorelai Huxley. If Lorelai was deceased that money was to go to Sophie and only Sophie or her heirs. It would never go to the younger daughter.

The younger daughter—Khloe Huxley.

A Khloe Huxley no one could find currently.

Brady had sent Tucker, a new hire at TC, to the address on her license. He was told by the gentleman who answered the door he and his wife had moved in three months ago and didn’t know who the previous renter was. The property owner was being tracked down.

But we needed answers now.

So it sucked I needed to push Hayden to answer questions, but I needed answers.

“Did you ever go to her place?”

“Yeah. She’s got a house on South Maple by Cherokee Rose Country Club. I don’t remember the street number but it’s the first house on Maple next door to the liquor store.”

Brady picked up his phone to make a call while I stared at the pictures of Milton, Sophie, and Khloe that had been printed out and taped to a whiteboard.

Those pretty eyes holding me hostage.

A thousand scenarios went through my head, from the innocuous to horrendous. Sophie wouldn’t go anywhere with Khloe without calling or texting. Even if Khloe had come clean and told her they were sisters and their father had recently died. At the very least she would’ve called Hayden.

Close to half a million in cash and more than that in property was a damn good motive to kill.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was trying to kill you.

“Khloe was there the morning Sophie got sick.”

“Hang tight, Tucker,” Brady said into his phone, then looked at me. “Sick?”

“Sophie was in the hospital, unexplained stomach pain and vomiting. No fever. Nothing came up on any test. They discharged her with their best guess that it was an ulcer even though the breath test came back negative. Khloe was there that morning.”

“Yeah,” Hayden grunted. “Soph drank one cup of coffee, came out for a bagel about ten minutes later, and commented that the coffee pot was empty. But Khloe doesn’t drink coffee so she must’ve dumped it.”

“Did you drink any?”

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