her flashlight on the document and read through it, flipping the pages as she went on to the next one. Isabel read with her, over her shoulder. “It says her full name is Delia Banderas McCall. Banderas…why does that sound familiar?” Emily looked to Isabel, but she did not reply. “Banderas must be her maiden name, don’t you think?”
“Yes.” Isabel replied slowly. Her eyes seemed to be looking blankly off into the distance, lost in thought.
“What’s wrong, Isabel? You’re so quiet.”
“Jethro.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Remember I told you we would call my friend Jethro, because I couldn’t tell you his real name?”
“Yeah.”
“You have to promise to keep this between us—”
“All right, already. Spit it out.” Emily’s impatience was showing.
“His real name is Jerry Banderas. Which would mean—”
“He’s related to Delia somehow.”
Suddenly Emily remembered why the name sounded familiar—Evan’s note. He had said the woman in the photo was Natalia Banderas, and he had blamed himself for her death. That would mean Delia could be somehow related to Natalia, as well.
The note also warned Emily to trust no one. Could she trust Isabel enough to tell her about it?
It was likely already too late to be asking that question. After all, Isabel was here, going through Evan’s things with her. Since Emily had learned Isabel had been Evan’s handler, and that she had moved to Paradise Valley to help him, she contemplated if she should take another leap of faith, even if it was just a small one.
Emily took the leap. “You said you’ve known Jethro, or Jerry, for a long time.”
Isabel nodded.
“Did he have a daughter named Natalia?”
Isabel’s eyes widened. “Yes. As a matter of fact, he used to talk about her all the time. In fact, he had two daughters. How did you know?”
“Two daughters?” Emily’s mind raced ahead of Isabel’s, not stopping to answer her question. “Maybe the other one is Delia.”
“She could be. I don’t recall him mentioning her by name. She was older than Natalia. But how did you know that?” Isabel’s eyebrows wrinkled in curiosity.
“Evan told me.”
“When?”
“In a note I found in his safe deposit box.”
“When were you planning to tell me about that?”
Emily stared her friend in the eyes. “I’m not sure I was.”
“What does that mean?”
“In the note, Evan warned me to trust no one.”
“Not even me? I’m your best friend.” Isabel put her hand on Emily’s arm.
“Yes, my friend who’s been lying to me for the past five years.” Emily pulled away.
“I wasn’t keeping my identity secret to hurt you. I was trying to protect you.”
“And now you’ve brought Jethro into the mix and all hell is breaking loose!” Her arm waved around for dramatic emphasis, the papers flapping in her hand.
“If you recall,” Isabel lowered her voice and spoke in a calm, serious tone, “I asked you if you wouldn’t be happier to simply remember the great marriage you had, let this investigation drop, and get on with your life. You insisted you absolutely had to know. That’s why I brought my friend into it—as a favor to you. I had no idea he might be involved.”
Emily crossed her arms and shifted her weight, taking a moment to absorb Isabel’s words. “I guess you’ve got me there. This whole mystery has me so wound up. I’m sorry. You’re right—it was me who pushed it.”
“I’m not your enemy, Em. I’m here to help you, if you’ll let me.”
Emily looked at Isabel, then down at the papers in her hand, pausing to consider her options. She could continue to keep things from Isabel, continue to have her suspicions about her, or she could lay it all out there.
“Okay, no more secrets.” She pulled the note out of her purse and handed it to her friend.
Isabel moved to the sunlight at the opening of the unit. She unfolded the paper and took her time reading the message aloud, softly.
“Dearest Emily,
If you’ve found this note, it means I’m dead. I hope you’ll forgive me for keeping things from you. You may have figured out Evan Parker was not my real name. My name is David Gerard. Again, I’m sorry.
“The gun belongs to someone who tried to kill me once, after moving to Paradise Valley. I wrestled it away from him before he got away, but I don’t know who it was. He must have succeeded on a second attempt or you wouldn’t be reading this note. I hid the gun because I had hoped to track him by it. Sorry I never told you, I didn’t