“Anyway, I looked it up. Genevieve Thibault has a life insurance policy through us,” James told the detective. “For quite a hefty amount, too.”
“How much?”
“Five million dollars.”
“Shit. That is a lot. When was this policy taken out?”
“Let me see,” James said, his fingers clicking on a keyboard. “Two months ago.”
Hawk’s breathing went quiet. His fingers stopped drumming the desk.
“And the beneficiary?”
“Thaddeus Thibault.”
Motherfucker.
Hawk hung up, and he shouldn’t have been surprised. It’s always the spouse. He rolled his eyes, thinking back to the academy and all the years he’d been on the force. Seemed like nine out of ten times it was the spouse.
Which meant...it wasn’t Meg, unless they were in on it together.
He wasn’t going to reflect on how much that relieved him.
Instead, he grabbed a jacket and headed for the Aristotle.
When he got there, he rode the elevator up directly to Thad’s room.
Thad answered almost immediately, dressed in jeans and a black slim sweater, ever snobby.
“Can I come in?” Hawk asked.
Thad nodded and pulled the door open widely.
Hawk strode in, noting the neat hotel room. Stacks of files were on the bed. They appeared to be client files. Hawk looked closer just to make sure—but none of them appeared to be about Gen. Thad wasn’t trying to investigate on his own. He wasn’t sure if he was surprised or not.
“Can you tell me about the life insurance policy you recently took out on your wife?” Hawk asked stiffly. Thad’s head snapped up, his eyebrows knit.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answered. “I didn’t.”
“Yet, there is one,” Hawk replied. “You’re the beneficiary. I just spoke with the insurance agent. In the event of Genevieve’s death, you will receive five-million dollars.”
“That might be so,” Thad answered slowly. “But I don’t know anything about it, and I certainly didn’t take the policy out.”
“Then who did? For a policy so large, the monthly payments were hefty. No one would want to pay that kind of money unless they were invested in the situation. Also, the payments came out of your account.”
Thad sat in the chair at the desk, and he stared up at the detective.
“I swear to you, I didn’t take that policy out.”
“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” Hawk asked him. “Because now would be the time. You’re not looking too good, friend.”
“There’s nothing else to tell you,” Thad answered. “I’m not involved in this. I’ve stayed in New York to answer your questions, and I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I’ll take a lie-detector test, if you want, although you and I both know it’s not admissible in court. But I’ll take one anyway. I’m that confident it would be in my favor.”
“Fine. Be at the station tomorrow at ten. I’ll set it up.”
Thad stuttered an agreement, not expecting Hawk to be able to pull it together so quickly. Hawk smirked just a little.
“I’m efficient.”
“I guess.”
Hawk left, closing the door firmly behind him, walking through the quiet hotel halls. He considered going up the two floors to talk to Meg, but there was no real reason to. So, by the book, he punched the down button.
When the doors opened on the ground floor, he strode through the lobby out the front door and barreled directly into someone.
It was a woman, who had now fallen backward toward the wet ground. He lunged to grab her, but not in time. She made contact, spilling on the sidewalk in a cloud of blond hair.
He knelt to help her up, and Meg’s blue eyes stared back at him.
Damn it.
47
Gen, Then
Gen’s agent was on the phone, her voice pleasant, as always, but there was something else there. Anxiety? Was she worried the book wouldn’t get done?
“Don’t worry,” Gen assuaged. “I’m a professional, Karen. I’ve changed directions, and I think I might be bridging another genre with this one, but it will be done. Soon.”
“Wait. Gen. Another genre?” Karen’s voice was thin now, like fragile ice on a newly frozen pond. Any movement and it could break. “We can’t just switch genres for a signed book, Gen. Your publisher paid for the book you outlined. The romance.”
“This book has romance,” Gen assured her, pacing circles in the living room. It was her new thing. She loved the comfort of it, the ritualistic feel of monotonous circles. It allowed her mind to run. “It’s just darker than usual. Don’t worry. You’ll love it.”
“I’m not worried about me,” she said limply. “I love everything you write. I’m worried about them.”
“They’ll love it, too,” Gen told her. “Trust me.”
They hung up, and Gen paced nearer to her open laptop.
She glanced at the page, at the blinking cursor. It was waiting for her to continue, to figure out new ways to exact revenge.
Her character’s name was Melanie, which sounded close enough to Meghan, she thought. And her lover’s name was Thomas. Her sister was a sweet girl named Georgia. Melanie, Meghan. Thad, Thomas. Genevieve, Georgia. She sing-songed the names in her head as she thought. She had to think of something else to do to them. In the first part of the book, she’d destroyed Thomas’s business. He deserved it, really. He was a cad.
Poor Georgia was the victim. It wasn’t her fault they’d played her for a fool. So when she’d planted a bug in the ear of Thomas’s partner about him stealing from the company, it had snowballed into a giant lawsuit, where at the end Thomas would lose everything. He didn’t know it yet, and it certainly wouldn’t happen until after he paid sweet Georgia’s payoff when the divorce was finalized. Thomas loved his company more than he loved anything else in the world, so when it came down in shambles around him, he would be broken, and justly so.
Because to be fair, the bug in his partner’s ear wouldn’t mean a thing unless it was based on fact. And last year, in a lapse of judgment, Thomas had withdrawn company funds and hadn’t recorded it. It would come back to bite him in just deserts.
Melanie, though. Her revenge took some thought.
Gen had paced for hours upon hours coming up with it.
Melanie was straitlaced when it came to her job. She upheld the rules. She never prescribed things for friends. She never diagnosed things that weren’t accurate. There wasn’t a thing Gen could think of for that. So, she’d have to think of something else.
It was only fair.
Melanie had committed the ultimate betrayal.
Thomas had broken his wife’s heart, but Melanie had gone beyond that. She had shattered blood ties, and that wasn’t right. That deserved more than ruining a career.
Gen was still pondering that when Jenkins knocked on her door. She’d been expecting him. They were going to lunch.
She opened the door, and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. It had become her custom with him. He was like the grandfather she didn’t have.
“Jenks!” she said. “I’m famished.” She grabbed her purse and pushed past him.
Jenkins hadn’t moved, so she turned to him, confused. “Are you coming?”
“As soon as you put on pants,” he told her, amused.
Aghast, Gen looked down, and sure enough, she had never put on pants this morning. She was wearing a T-shirt and underwear.
“Shit. In my defense, I’m knee-deep in this book. I’ve got to turn it in soon, or I’ll be in breach of contract. So I’ve been in fiction-world all morning.”
She laughed over her shoulder and hurried to the bedroom to pull on some jeans.
Jenkins didn’t seem offended, no
r had he looked at her in any way other than fatherly. But he was concerned.
“You’re a gentleman, you know that?” she asked him as she locked her door. “You didn’t look at me twice when I was only half-clothed.”
“Well, twenty years ago I might’ve. I’m old now.”
“You aren’t,” she argued. “Where are we eating today?”
“Hot dogs?” Jenkins suggested, knowing full well Gen loved grabbing dogs from the street vendor and eating them in the park. So that’s what they did. Once they were seated at a bench, Gen watched joggers flying past and started musing out loud.
“I’m stuck in my plotline,” she told Jenkins. “My agent is breathing down my neck to get this book turned in, and I changed it a few months ago, so I’m behind.”
“Well, you’re a professional,” he pointed out. “You can do it.”
“I’m just... I’m trying to think of a retaliation plot,” she answered. “It’s not really my normal jam, so I’ve had to think hard. Do you have any interesting stories from your years as a PI?”
Jenkins laughed at that. “Gen, the things I’ve seen would curl your toes.”
“Tell me,” she urged him, drawing her knees up to her chest as she waited. “I’m in desperate need of some inspiration.”
“Oh, Lord,” he shook his head. “Let me think. Well, I had a nurse who was claiming that she was injured on the job. Her medical center hired me, and I found out that she was stripping in her free time. So clearly her back wasn’t an issue.”
“Not if she could wind her body around a stripper’s pole,” Gen agreed.
“I had another case where a wife thought her husband was stepping out. He came home several times a week smelling like strange perfume.”
“And, was he?”
“No. He was taking dance lessons to surprise her with.”
“Awww. That’s so sweet. I wish more men were like that.”
Jenkins humphed at that, seeing how he was a man. Gen glanced at him. “You know you’re always excluded from my derision of the male species.”
“Okay,” Jenkins told her. “I’m not worried about it.”
He was accustomed to her anger at men, and in fact, he thought it was normal at this juncture. He’d been around many wronged women, and they always went through an anger phase.
“Gen,” he said, casually now. “When will you sign the divorce papers? Thad has sent you several versions, and you keep sending them back.”
Gen shrugged. “It annoys him. He wants it all done quickly, and why should I make it easy for him?”
“I thought you were ready to be rid of him?”
“Oh, I am. I just want a little revenge first. I want him to sweat.”
“But when you sign, and it’s finalized, he’s going to pay you a lot of money.”
“You’re not supposed to know that,” she reminded him. “It’s part of my settlement with him. I can’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t say anything,” Jenkins replied. “You know that.”
She did. She trusted him.
“I don’t know when I’ll sign,” she admitted finally. “I just like having the control in this situation. He can’t move on until I sign. It serves him right if I drag it on for months. Maybe I’ll wait a year.”
“Don’t do that,” Jenkins cautioned. “You need to move on, too. You’re too focused on him right now, Gen.”
Which was the real reason he kept coming to visit her. She spent her days obsessed with her anger. Her paintings, which she’d hung in her hallway in the apartment, were angry shades of red and black, furious slashes of paint splattering the canvas. He didn’t know a thing about art, but even he could see that.
After their hot dogs, they had a little walk, and Gen sucked in the fresh air. If she was to finish this book, she needed her circulation going. She knelt and gave a duck the last bit of her bun. She’d saved it just for this.
“You know, they say nowadays that you’re not supposed to feed them bread,” Jenkins told her. “It swells up in their bellies, or something. They can’t digest it.”
Startled, Gen stood up. “Well, damn. I wonder how many ducks I’ve accidentally killed in my life?”
“I doubt you’ve killed any,” Jenkins assured her.
“God, I hope not.” The very thought filled her with panic. She didn’t want to hurt a helpless little creature.
They walked back toward Gen’s apartment complex, and they paused in front of the doors.
Jenkins looked down at her. “Gen, I think you need to consider signing the papers, and being done with this.”
“That’s exactly what Meg says.” Gen screwed up her face. “She just wants to move on with Thad herself. Poor Joe. I don’t know what he’s going to do.”
“Joe will take care of himself,” Jenkins said. “You said their relationship isn’t that great anyway.”
“It’s not. Because of Meg. He deserves wayyyy better than her,” Gen told him.
“She’s still your sister, you know,” Jenkins reminded her.
“Then she should act like it.” Annoyed, she leaned up to kiss Jenkins’s cheek. “See you soon, Jenks.”
As she was turning to go inside, the condo manager noticed her on his way out and stopped.
“Ms. McCready,” he said, and Jenkins paused to listen. “We will be sending a maintenance man in to take care of your hot water heater this afternoon.”
“Thank you, Dan,” she answered.
The manager smiled and continued on his way, and Gen turned slowly, knowing full well that Jenkins would be waiting.
“I was still Gen McCready when I bought this place years ago. I never changed it.”
“It doesn’t make much difference, really,” Jenkins pointed out.
Once inside the apartment, he looked at the photo of Meg on the wall. “You certainly do look alike,” he mused.
Gen smiled. “I’m banking on that.”
Jenkins stared at her, and the look on her face was unnerving.
48
Meg, Now
Hawk helped Meg to her feet, his hand grasping hers.
“Let’s get inside,” she said, and she tried to take a step, but faltered. “Ow.”
She tried to turn her ankle to test it but winced.
Hawk didn’t hesitate. With rain pelting them like hail, he scooped her up and carried her into the building. He set her gently down, and while they dripped onto the marble lobby floor, he examined her foot.
“It’s already swelling,” he told her. “You need some ice. Let’s go.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she looped hers around his waist. He helped her hobble to the elevator and then limp into her room.
“Sit here.” Hawk lowered her onto the bed. “I’ll get you some ice packs.” Kneeling, he found the extra small trash sacks in the bottom of the trash can by the bed, and went to fill them with ice. He returned a few minutes later.
“Very ingenious,” Meg told him, as she pressed them around her throbbing foot.
“I solve problems,” he quipped. “It’s what I do.”
She sucked in a breath as the ice chilled her skin. Hawk winced.
“I’m sorry,” he told her sincerely. “I didn’t mean to plow into you.”
“Well, that’s good. Here I was thinking you’d done it on purpose.”
Their laughter was almost nervous.
“Are your parents staying here at this hotel, too?”
Meg nodded. “On a lower floor.”
“As far from you as possible?” he guessed.
She smiled. “Something like that.”
“How are they handling this?” Hawk asked her. “It seems like your father is holding it together.”
“Yeah. My dad is an old battle tank. Unflappable. My mother, though...�
��
“Yeah,” Hawk agreed. They laughed again, softer now.
“Hey, about...well, everything. It really bothers me that you might think the worst of me,” Meg told him. “I know it looks bad, and I wish I could put into words everything that has led me to this point, but that’s impossible. I just really, really hope that you’re able to see the good in me, as well.”
Hawk swallowed hard, because there was no way he was going to let her know what he’d been seeing in her, or how often he’d thought of her.
“I’m very good at seeing through the bullshit to a person’s true nature,” he told her gruffly instead. “That’s my job.”
“Okay.”
“There’s a life insurance policy on Gen. A large one. Thad is the beneficiary. And it was just taken out recently.”
“Oh, my God. That’s... Oh, my God.”
“I just found out that you are a secondary beneficiary.”
She froze.
“How... That... It doesn’t make sense,” she stammered. “I didn’t. I have no reason to do that, Hawk. I swear to God.”
“So you don’t know how you and Thad are beneficiaries on a large life insurance policy. That’s a little convenient.”
“I think it’s a little too convenient, Hawk. Both Thad and I are intelligent people. If we’d done this, we’d never have left tracks like that. I’ve watched enough NCIS in my life to know that much.”
“Do you know how often someone has told me if I had done this, I wouldn’t have... Fill in the blank. Intelligent people often say that. As you just said, you and Thad are both intelligent. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Hawk left abruptly, without another word.
Meg sat limply on the bed, her ankle throbbing and pulse racing. Trembling, she picked up the phone to call Thad.
She rattled off to him quickly, and he was silent on the other end.
“I thought you didn’t know about it,” Thad said stiffly, uncertain.
“I didn’t.”
“The insurance company needed our social security numbers to list us.”
“We know each other’s social security number.”
“Do I want to ask why?”
The Last to See Her Page 23