“This is how Everly’s killer got in and out of the house,” I tell him. “Think about it. It’s not covered by the surveillance cameras, so there would be no record of anybody going in or out of it. You don’t have to use a key, so there’s no visual indication of a door being broken into. When the crime scene investigators toured the house to make sure it was locked up, all they had to do is turn the doorknob, and it would be locked. Because there’s an antique keyhole on the interior of the door, it looks like it has to be locked from the inside, that there’s no way someone could go outside and secure the door properly. But that’s not the case.”
“But nobody knows my code,” Michael argues.
As soon as the words are out of his mouth, a crash at the end of the hall sends us running.
We dart down the hallway towards the sound. He opens a set of arched double doors into an impressive library, where somebody already seems to be catching up on their reading material. I walk up to Payton and hold my hand out for the folder she’s gripping. She offers it over, and I take it from her hand.
“A little bit of light beach reading for your upcoming vacation?” I ask.
“Payton, what are you doing?” Michael asks.
I hand the folder over to him, and he looks down at it.
"This is my life insurance information," he frowns. "And my monthly accounting."
"Michael, please," Payton pleads, coming toward him. "It's not what it looks like."
"Really? Because it sure as hell looks like you broke into my house to steal personal information," he snaps.
"I just wanted to check it," she says.
“Why?” Michael asks. “Why would you need to go through my financial information?”
“Because she wants to make sure she’s still set,” I point out. “Even though you had full custody of Peter, you still send her money every month, didn't you? You call that child support, but it really was just taking care of her.”
“Yes,” Michael says. “There was a time when I really cared about her, and she is the mother of my child. I wanted to make sure she was alright. And, frankly, there were times when I knew she wasn't. So, I started giving her money every month.”
I turn my gaze to Payton directly.
“But now that there's no child, you started to worry about those monthly payments, didn't you? You relied on them and wondered if there was any way he was going to continue to give you that money. The loss of your son meant the loss of your income as well. But, on the other hand, maybe not. Like he just said, he cared about you. And the two of you had gotten to be even closer friends while raising Peter, so maybe he would keep supporting you. There's only one thing standing in the way. A wife. How many women do you know who would feel comfortable with their husbands shelling money out to their ex-girlfriend every month? You know if he went through with marrying Everly, your chances of any support from him were completely gone.”
“No,” Payton says, shaking her head to try to will away the tears. “I didn't do anything to Everly. I wouldn't hurt her. Everly was my friend.”
“Babe, what's going on?” Ian asks as he comes through the door, then stops in his tracks and looks at us.
Payton rushes toward him.
“They think I murdered Everly,” she says, her voice cracking. “They think I did it so Michael will keep giving me money.”
“That's ridiculous,” Ian scoffs.
“Is it?” I ask. “What do you do for a living, Ian? I don't think I’ve ever heard.”
“What's it to you?” he asks, holding his arms around Payton like he's protecting her from me.
“Because it seems to me a man without a job or with a steady but low paying job would find it extremely appealing to have a girlfriend with a steady income stream from a multimillionaire.”
“I've never had money,” Payton says. “So it didn't really matter to me that much. Yes, it was nice to have and to not have to worry, but I wouldn't kill my friend over it.”
“Not even if that friend is also responsible for your son's death?” Sam asks.
Payton pulls away from Ian and reaches into her pocket for her phone. She sweeps the screen open and sweeps through it for a few moments before turning it around so I can look at it. It's an image of her and Everly together. They're wearing bikini tops and cut off jean shorts and sitting on what looks like a blanket on the sand. I stare at the image intently, trying to retain as many of the details as possible.
“Look. She was my friend. Somebody I cared about and trusted. Of course, I was devastated when Peter died, and I felt betrayed, but I didn't hurt her. It would have been another betrayal. A betrayal of my son, who loved Everly,” Payton says.
“So, explain the aggression over the department dropping the criminal investigation into Peter's death. Without that investigation, you would have been able to hold Everly, and by extension, Michael, accountable for your child’s death. Just another income stream gone,” I point out.
“I wanted her to face justice,” Ian says. “I don't know if she purposely hurt him or if it was just an accident, but he's dead because of her. And I wanted to know he wasn't just going to be pushed under the rug.”
Michael steps up close to Ian and points toward the office door.
“Get out,” he growls through gritted teeth. His eyes move over to Payton. "Both of you."
"Michael," Payton gasps.
"Now."
They start toward the door, and Ian turns around to looks directly into my eyes.
"The Heather Branch Inn," he says.
"Excuse me?" I ask.
"That's where we stayed on our honeymoon. The Heather Branch Inn. You can check."
He stomps out of the room, and soon, we hear the front door slam.
"I'm sorry, Michael," Sam says.
"At least Emma figured it out before I lost a lot more than I already have," he says.
"I'm not done yet," I say. "We still have to ensure Everly's killer doesn't get away with it."
"Do you really think Payton killed her?" Michael asks.
"No," I tell him. "It doesn’t fit her personality. She is far too carefree to do something that complex.”
"So, that’s it. We have nowhere else to go," Michael says.
"Not quite. There's someone else I want a word with. But this one I need to do on my own. Michael, why don't you file a report with Sam? Documenting her coming into the house is important. Even if she didn't take anything, it's important to show intent and ability," I suggest.
"Where are you going?" Sam asks.
"Not far," I tell him. "I'll let you know when I'm ready."
Chapter Thirty-Five
Three months ago
“Don't do this,” he pleaded. “Please, don't do this.”
Everly squeezed her eyes closed and tightened her grip on the edge of the bathroom sink.
“Stop,” she said. “I can't have this conversation again. I need you to stop doing this.”
“You can't honestly be happy with him. What do the two of you have in common? What do you enjoy about each other?”
“I am so happy with him. I don't know what else to tell you or how else to explain it to you. I know you're unhappy, but that's not my fault. I can't be responsible for that.”
“How can you say that?” he snapped. “You're responsible for all of this. Who else could possibly take the blame?”
“There's no blaming. Nobody did anything wrong. All I did was fall in love,” she said in exasperation.
“This is the wrong person. It should have been with me. And you know it just as well as I do. We fit so much better together. Can't you feel what happens when we're in the same space? Can't you feel the spark? The energy? It's been there since the very first time I saw you. I know you feel the same way.”