whenever you’re ready.”
They had both grown over the past four months. Adam had been emotionally distant, a defense mechanism like Bree’s need to control everything. But when she’d demanded a place in his life and help raising their sister’s kids, he’d stepped up without a single complaint.
“I promise we’ll go soon.”
“That’s good enough for me.” He turned and walked back into the house.
Bree slid behind the wheel of her SUV. She drove toward Matt’s house and the thickening clouds, mentally preparing to stake out the home of a potential killer.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Matt drove his Suburban toward Paul’s house. Bree’s marked vehicle was not suitable for a stakeout, especially if they might need to follow Paul at some point. Through the windshield, the sun dipped low, and Matt lowered his visor to counter the glare. In the rearview mirror, dark clouds gathered behind them.
“Can you believe Dana is having coffee with a guy she met on a dating app?” Bree asked from the passenger seat.
“Those apps are popular.”
“I guess.” Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen. “Did you ever date someone from an app?”
“No.”
Bree was the first person he’d dated in three years—since the shooting.
“Beckett’s bank statements are in,” Bree said. “Todd reviewed them.”
Matt sipped coffee from a stainless-steel mug. “What’s his financial situation?”
“That’s the interesting thing.” She scrolled. “Deb was right—his bank balances are down across the board. Don’t get me wrong. He’s still rich. But it’s not clear where the money is going.”
Matt set his mug in the console. “He said he and his wife were separated. Could he be paying an attorney?”
“This has been happening for the last two years. His wife only left a couple of months ago.” Bree tapped her phone screen. “Todd says some of the withdrawals were cash.”
“Cash? Maybe he’s making payments to his wife?”
“But why cash?” Bree asked. “Surely, if he was giving his estranged wife or his lawyer money, he’d want a record of it.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t make sense.” Matt put both hands on the steering wheel and tapped it with his thumbs.
The GPS told them that their destination was ahead on the right. Matt checked the map on the dashboard screen. The Beckett house was around the next bend in the road. “I’d better pull over here.”
Bree fished into a duffel bag at her feet for a camera with a telephoto lens. “Nice little country estate.” Her radio squawked on her duty belt, and dispatch relayed information about a minor car accident. She lowered the volume.
Matt steered toward the shoulder of the road, concealing the SUV in the shadow of the roadside trees. He squinted through the windshield. “Do you see what I see?”
With a solid, square front, the big stone home stood at the end of the driveway like an English manor. The blacktop formed a circle in front of the house, then curved around to a detached garage.
Behind the garage, tall fencing surrounded a tennis court.
“Bingo. A tennis court.” Bree raised her camera. The lens whirred as it focused. “I don’t see any sign of life in the house.”
The landscape lights were on, but the house sat dark.
Matt scanned the front of the property. “His truck is probably in the garage.”
He turned off the engine, and they settled in to watch and wait. Bree lowered her camera into her lap. The wind gusted, shaking leaves off surrounding trees. Matt drank his coffee, grateful to be inside the vehicle. He watched Paul’s house and scanned the property for movement.
“There.” Bree raised her camera again. She snapped a picture. “It’s Paul. He’s leaving the house.”
Matt straightened in his seat. He watched Paul enter his detached garage through a side door. Matt started the engine. The overhead garage door rolled up, and a Maserati sedan backed out. “That’s not going to be hard to follow.”
The car turned onto the road in the opposite direction, but Matt still waited to pull out. He followed far enough behind Paul that his taillights were just visible. They drove for about fifteen minutes before Paul turned into the entrance for a small office complex. Matt killed the headlights before following his vehicle.
Most of the buildings were dark as Paul drove toward the back of the complex. Matt cruised to a stop, the end of his Suburban hidden behind the corner of a building. He kept a football field of asphalt between his SUV and Paul’s car. “Can you see him? I don’t want to get closer. We’re too conspicuous in this empty lot.”
Bree took