Page 81 of Romeo

“That happened right before the POA was put into place, so it slipped through the cracks.Though he did express the furious phone call he got from Odie Landers after you told him about the deed being in Jules’s name.”

“What about a will?Odie mentioned they couldn’t locate it?”

“That is true.The same time he added Jules to the deed, Edgar revoked his will.Odie has been fighting to get named the administrator of his estate, but the court has yet to appoint him.Mr.Krumm said that they were waiting for Jules to be located since she’s the only remaining blood relative to Edgar.”

“That’s why he wanted her found.So he could prove she wasn’t capable of managing the estate.”

“That’s my guess too.Mr.Krumm said that—in his opinion—Jules is capable of managing it.Which is precisely what he told the judge when asked.Odie has been fighting it every step of the way.”

“Something he failed to tell us.”I take a deep breath.“I doubt Edgar would have added Jules to the deed then terminated his will without drafting a replacement.”

“If he did, he didn’t use Mr.Krumm.”

“Which makes sense if he were trying to hide it from Odie,” Tucker says.“I’ll do some digging.”

“Me, too.Thank you, Beckett.”

“You’re welcome.I’ll keep tugging and see what I can find on my end.Maybe I can track down whoever he used to draft it; then we’ll have a copy for ourselves.”

Chapter27

Jules

Awooden door shouldn’t be so intimidating.But as I stand outside my grandfather’s bedroom, I can’t bring myself to even touch the handle so I can open it.Aside from pointing to it so Riley could check it out when we first got here, I haven’t been anywhere near it.

I haven’t wanted to go inside.Yet, I can’t help but feel like it’s the one place I need to be right now.You’ve got this, Jules.I hype myself up then grip the handle and turn it before pushing the door open.

My grandfather’s bedroom is the largest in the house and includes a small sitting area in front of a bay window flanked by cream-colored curtains.Bookshelves line the wall closest to the door, and each of his titles is still perfectly in its place.

His bed is made, the navy-blue quilt my grandmother made before she died still draped over the foot of it.His readers are still sitting on his nightstand, as is the bottle of water he took to bed with him every single night.

My throat burns as I step further inside then close the door behind me.I can still smell him in here.Peppermint and pine.I run the tips of my fingers over the end of his bed, remembering the times I suffered from night terrors and ran in here, seeking safety.

He’d been everything to me.Even before my parents died.He was my best friend.And I let him down by keeping the truth from him.Maybe if I’d have told him sooner, he wouldn’t have been looking so hard.We could have moved on together.Sought justice together.

But now I’m alone.

Forever.

Surveying the room around me, I look for anyplace he might’ve been able to hide something and not have it found.There are thousands of places though, thousands of books he could have tucked something away in.Drawers.Shelves.

Since I’m not sure there’s anything in here, I have no clue where to even start.

I step into his closet and flip on the light then walk through it, gently touching all of his clothes.What am I supposed to do with all of these when this is over?How am I supposed to move forward?

He’d kept each and every one of his shoes in clear plastic boxes, which is where I start my search.I open each of them up, checking inside the shoes and underneath the lid—which is a solid white.

My theory that he’d taped something inside vanishes when the search comes up empty.

So I move to the pockets of his jackets and pants.

Still nothing.

Growing more frustrated by the second, I search the closet, doing what I can to not destroy it even as I leave no area unchecked.

But after an hour—still nothing.

Am I crazy?Did he really not leave anything else?Or did he hide it in other places in the house?

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