A Good Break

Chapter One

"Somehow, it just seems wrong..."

As devastated as she felt over the news that she had just been given, no one listening to her voice would know it. A lifetime of hiding her emotions from all but a select few people had bred an internal fortitude so resolute, that even the most torturous grief would not penetrate it. Lindsey Norris would maintain control.

"Not if you consider that attending both would honor her even more."

Janice Evers was trying to reason with Lindsey; explaining that her attending their twenty-year high school reunion the evening after she was scheduled to deliver the eulogy at Emily Bethel's planned memorial service would actually be a better tribute to their friend.

"As our senior class president, Emily had been responsible for organizing our class reunions. This would be the first one that you will have attended, so what better way to honor her than to finally show up at something that she had always worked so hard to get you to come to?"

Lindsey knew that Janice had a point. Emily had pressured her to attend the five, ten, and fifteen-year reunions, and while Emily had hidden her disappointment over Lindsey missing all of them, letting her old friend down had haunted Lindsey over the years.

Most people from their class were surprised that Lindsey Norris and Emily Bethel had remained friends. Although they had been inseparable since meeting in sixth grade, Emily's perceived betrayal of Lindsey in their senior year of high school was not something that many people would have forgiven had it happened to them.

Those people didn't know or trust Emily Bethel the way that Lindsey Norris had. It hadn't taken Lindsey long after learning of the incident in question to determine that Emily had been coerced, lied to, and deceived - not to mention tricked into drinking enough alcohol to render her incapable of making sagacious decisions.

The true betrayal had been by Lindsey's boyfriend at the time, Ricky Campos, frustrated with her continuing refusal to have sex with him. Emily had merely been the chosen victim in Ricky's scheme to punish Lindsey for denying him that which he felt entitled to.

All of which reminded Lindsey of something. She asked Janice, "Emily always said that Ricky Campos never attended any of the reunions. Do you know if he RSVP'd for this one?"

"I'm not on the reunion committee," Janice replied apologetically. "If you want, I can check with one of the committee members to see if I can find out who has committed to attend. Would Ricky not being there influence your decision?"

Lindsey bristled at the implication that her decision on whether or not to attend their twentieth high school reunion could be influenced by anything other than her own desire for privacy. She had purposely visited her home town of Spring Place, Georgia, relatively few times since leaving for college, and each of those times, the focus of her trip had been solely to visit with Emily, her daughters, and no one else.

She had come back for Emily's wedding in 2010 to Chet Bethel. She had come back for the birth of Emily's first child, Megan, in 2012. She had come back in 2015 to support a pregnant Emily during her divorce from her philandering husband. She had come back a few months later for the birth of Emily's second daughter, Annie.

There had been several other times as well, but Emily had always respected Lindsey's requests that her visits not be broadcast around the small town. Neither of them wanted their short periods of time together to be shared with outsiders. The two had always been selfish with their time together, and this had continued with few exceptions as they kept their long-distance friendship as a treasured part of just their lives.

This had been a major influence on why Lindsey had not attended any of the previous reunions. The two friends would have had to share the limited time that Lindsey would be in town with former classmates and others instead of being able to just be together alone.

No, whether Ricky Campos might be attending the reunion would not be a factor in Lindsey's decision to go to it after the memorial service. She told Janice Evers as much.

Lindsey wanted to get Janice back onto the reason that she had called her in the first place, instead of their class reunion. She prodded, "What can you tell me about the accident?"

So far, Lindsey had held her emotions in check. She had listened stoically to the news that her best friend had been killed yesterday in a single-car accident. She had accepted the proclamation from Janice Evers that Lindsey Norris had been named as Emily's personal representative, executor, and the guardian for her daughters in Emily's will. Lindsey would shoulder the responsibility for the time being and save her private grief for later.

"Not much," Janice admitted when answering Lindsey's question. "The investigation is still ongoing. The roads were clear, the sun was shining, and there is no apparent reason why Emily's car would have driven off the road in that location, such as swerving to avoid a deer."

"What about her girls?" Lindsey asked. "Megan and Annie. Who is watching them?"

Janice hesitated before answering, "They are staying with neighbors currently. You knew Emily's relatives as well as anyone, so you should know that none of them are suitable custodians for eleven-year-old and fourteen-year-old girls, even if Emily would have wanted them involved. I've reviewed the divorce decree from 2015. Emily was granted full custody of the girls in the settlement, but Chet never relinquished his parental rights to them. We're waiting to see if he decides to step up and tries to finally be a father to his daughters."

"Not as long as I am alive and kicking," Lindsey thought as she checked the time. She would let hatred trump the grief for the time being."

"Listen, Janice, I need to run to a meeting and then look into travel arrangements. It's Monday, so I'll have to rearrange several existing plans for this week, but I hope to be there by late tomorrow morning."

Lindsey thought for a second before continuing, "Do me a favor, send me the contact information for the best family law attorney that you know of. Also, don't let anyone else know that I am coming to town, and especially not that I am named in Emily's will as her administrator and preferred guardian for the girls. If I need to fight Chet Bethel for them, I don't want to give him forewarning of my legal status. Can you do that?"

"I can," Janice replied. "But you need to know that ever since Chet Bethel took over the family carpet mill in Dalton, he has been using that wealth to influence quite a bit in Whitfield and Murray Counties. Fighting him on a computer programmer's wages might prove challenging for you."

Lindsey didn't bother to correct the limited information that Emily had shared about her with others. With the paperwork filed and the announcement days away, people who were interested would soon be able to see that the sale of R.A.N.T. would be making an already wealthy Lindsey Norris one of the youngest female multi-billionaires in history.

As the only child of a chemist father and a biologist mother, Lindsey had been supported in becoming autonomous from an early age. She wasn't shy or introverted, but she was very selective in her social choices, with Emily Cline, later Bethel, becoming her only true and consistent friend all through middle school, high school, and beyond.

When Lindsey had started her first semester at M.I.T., she learned quickly what a competitive environment academia truly was. After having credit for her school work claimed by other students on her team, and even by one of her professors, Lindsey became much more guarded where sharing her ideas and study assignments were concerned.

After graduation, when she had developed the ideas that would eventually lead to the creation of Robotics and Neural Technologies, or R.A.N.T., as it was known in the industry, she had been extremely diligent in structuring the company and personally applying for all patents under her name to ensure that she would be the only person in control of them.

Even with the pending leveraged management buyout that would turn operational control of her company over to the employees, Lindsey had insisted upon approving the private equity firm that would fund the purchase for the employees. She also had veto power over the makeup of the initial board members, would retain ownership of all patents under her name in perpetuity, and would retain ownership of the property in Methuen, Massachusetts, where R.A.N.T.'s vast campus stood.

At the ripe old age of 37, Lindsey would be effectively retired and able to freely pursue other interests. Her immediate interest would be protecting Megan and Annie from their father. How this new responsibility being thrust upon her would impact her other plans was the question she would have to answer for herself.

Lindsey Norris did everything herself.

~~~

There are certain images where a person just instinctively knows that the elements composing them simply don't fit.

The woman leaning against the fender of a car in the parking lot of this Dollar General store presented just such an image to the man exchanging five-gallon propane cylinders in front of the store.

He had been to Alaska. There was no way that the male populace of that state would have allowed any female who looked like her to simply drive away in a car. Hence, this car must be a rental that she had picked up somewhere other than where the license plates indicated it had originated from.

"Excuse me," The man smiled warmly as he spoke from across the bed of the truck. "Are you looking for someplace?"

The woman had been fidgeting on her cell phone with her lips pursed in frustration since the man had pulled the pickup truck into the parking space next to hers. He had finished his exchange and loaded the last cylinder into the bed of the truck, but felt that he should see if she needed any assistance before he headed on his way.

The fashionable sunglasses that she wore obscured her eyes, but he had to assume that when she raised her head at his question, she was looking at him. His own sunglasses would likewise hide his eyes from her, but he concentrated on keeping his visage friendly and cordial as his eyes seemed to be roaming everywhere but towards her eyes.

With two younger twin sisters that he had always protected, he consciously sought not to objectify women by their appearance, and he would do so with the woman before him. But there was no ignoring the fact that she was stunningly beautiful.

She studied him for a few seconds before returning her focus to her cell phone and replying dismissively, "Thanks, but I'm just trying to find the settings on my phone that will allow me to connect to the entertainment system in this car. I think I'm almost there..."

Still smiling, he stepped towards the cab of the truck, reached through the driver's window and brought out a cable. Holding it up for her to see, he walked around the front of the truck towards her car and offered, "Try this."

She had opened her car door and was prepared to quickly jump in to lock herself safely away from this stranger. He recognized her apprehension, stopped, and placed the cable onto the hood of her car before stepping back around to the other side of his truck.

Raising both hands into the air, he said, "You can trust me. I am simply offering you a solution to your problem. Use it. Don't use it. It won't affect me either way. Good luck."

Without waiting for a response, he got into the truck and backed out of the space. The woman remained poised to jump into her car as she watched him pull out and head for the street. Before he had turned onto the street, she quickly took two pictures of the truck with her cell phone camera. One captured the license plate clearly, and the other captured the company information printed on the doors, "Nelson Landscape Design".

As the truck disappeared, heading south on Highway 225, Lindsey Norris retrieved the cable from the hood of her car. It was a standard USB cable with the 'A'-type connector on one end and the same 'C'-type connector that her Android phone accepted on the other end. Did the guy think that simply charging her phone would solve her connectivity issues?

However, on that note, she did see that her battery charge indicator showed only thirty percent charge remaining. Her own USB cable and AC adapter were packed in her suitcase in the trunk of the car, so she might as well go ahead and use this cable to increase her battery charge while trying to locate the cabin that her assistant had reserved for her to stay in while attending the memorial service on Saturday morning, and possibly the reunion on Saturday evening. Lindsey still hadn't decided on that yet.

Starting the car so that she could once again attempt to establish a connection between her car and the entertainment system, Lindsey reflected on her behavior towards the man. Why had she acted so tentatively with him? She hadn't felt threatened by him, and if she dared to admit it, she had found what she had seen of him attractive.

"Rugged meets refined," Lindsey thought. "Where in the hell had that impression come from?"

Well, his physique had been one factor. He had been tall enough to easily see over the cab of the truck, and his broad shoulders and muscular chest had stretched the fabric of his denim shirt in a very enticing way. Lindsey hadn't seen much of him below the waist, but his shirt had been neatly tucked into his khaki pants, with no pooch visible anywhere.

The "refined" part could be attributed to his clean-shaven and neat appearance, coupled with his perfectly trimmed, short wavy hair with just a spattering of gray along the sides, and his dazzling white teeth, evident on the one time that he had briefly smiled reassuringly at her. No, Lindsey couldn't ignore his smile.

"Head northwest to Highway 225, then turn right."

Startled by the disembodied voice suddenly booming out of the car speakers, Lindsey quickly turned the volume down and tried to quell the rapid beating of her heart that the unexpected voice had caused. A quick glance at the display on the entertainment system showed the connected device being her cell phone. The directions that she had pulled up on the phone's Google Maps application earlier were now being communicated to her through the car, which is what she had been attempting to accomplish before the man had interrupted her.

Now that she knew that she could navigate to the rental cabin hands-free, Lindsey considered whether she wanted to go there directly or make a few stops first. It was too early for Megan and Annie to be out of school yet, so that was a stop that could wait. Grocery shopping could also wait until she had determined what her cooking options at the cabin would be.

That left only the matter of checking with the mortuary on the funeral arrangements, followed by her grabbing some lunch, so she decided to head towards the funeral home and take her chances on finding something to eat along the way.

Lindsey knew that she had used the launching of the entertainment system as an escape from her earlier thoughts on the man and her behavior towards him. Had he been offended by her actions? In retrospect, he didn't seem to have been. He responded to her as if he had recognized and then been sensitive to the fears of a woman alone encountering a strange man. Placing the cable on the hood of her car and backing off so quickly had demonstrated his understanding of the situation, hadn't it?

But Lindsey hadn't been fearful. Over ten years of martial arts experience had given her the confidence that would have quelled any concerns over encountering a strange man in a parking lot on a clear sunny day. She groaned to herself as the complete recall of her feelings over encountering the man came to the surface of her mind.

Lindsey Norris hadn't felt fear or trepidation from her encounter with the man. She had felt shy, timid. For God's sake, she had felt bashful. Why would barely speaking to a man that she didn't know and had never met make her feel lacking or ashamed? How was realizing that fact influencing her now being interested in finding the man, to thank him for his assistance, and to apologize? Maybe she should just forget the whole incident.

~~~

Paul Eddy was not a patient man by nature. There were few people who he would tolerate making him wait, and two of them still sat at the same table in the café where he had left them when he agreed to go and exchange the propane tanks for them.

He honked the horn in the Ford F-250 that he had used for the exchange to get the attention of his twin sisters, Karly and Marly, before jumping out of the cab and walking over to the truck parked next to it; his own Honda Ridgeline. He quickly opened the door to his truck and unplugged the USB cable that he used to connect his phone to while driving.

Hearing the approaching steps of his sisters, Paul turned and handed the USB cable to Karly, explaining, "I gave Matt's cable to a woman who seemed to need it. You can take mine to replace it."

Accepting the cable, Karly asked, "Then what will you use?"

Paul accepted the kiss on his cheek from his other sister, Marly, and held the passenger door of his brother-in-law's truck open for her to climb in. He addressed Karly, "My phone is fully charged, so I'll be fine until I get home and grab another cable for the truck."

Karly simply nodded and headed around to the driver's side of the truck. After Paul had opened her door for her, she leaned up to kiss his cheek and said, "Thanks for taking care of the tank swap for me. Will we see you at the cookout on Saturday?"

"I'll let you know," Paul muttered. He was certain that his sisters had already tried setting him up with every single female within a hundred miles. He now wondered if there were any recent divorcees that he might get introduced to if he came to the cookout. If it were going to be a family cookout, he would have readily confirmed his attendance regardless of the risk. This cookout was a celebration of life event that Karly was hosting for a former high school classmate who had recently died in a single-car accident on Highway 52.

Karly hugged her older brother and said, "Other than getting the brisket into the smoker on Saturday morning, there won't be anything needed until it's time to grill the chicken and other things in the afternoon. That's the benefit of the cookout being mostly potluck. Everyone who would typically want to bring a casserole or something to the family will just bring it on Saturday instead. You can skip the whole thing if you want to. It's not like you knew Emily or her kids."

Paul hadn't known the woman personally, but he thought that he had encountered her previously. He might look up her name when he got back to his office in Chatsworth. It would depend on what other priorities for his time awaited him.

His role as the Chief Judge for the Superior Court in the Conasauga Judicial Circuit was another area of his life where Paul's patience was frequently tested. His court served Murray and Whitfield Counties. The circuit was part of Georgia's Seventh Judicial District. Paul had three other judges reporting to him, all of whom had initially resented him for the same reason.

Ignoring football and baseball scholarship offers from most universities in the Southeastern Conference, Paul had chosen to attend Chapman University, a private four-year school in Orange County, California. His choice of university was made with the same strategic focus as most of Paul's decisions. While the policy at Chapman University required all students to live on campus, his uncle's law firm was only three blocks from the student housing.

While Paul was undeniably impatient, he was far from stupid. He had been passing mock LSAT tests since his freshman year in high school. He wanted to be a lawyer, but didn't want to put up with the drudgery of attending four years of college, followed by four years of law school.

California is only one of four states that allow a person who hasn't attended a law school to sit for the Bar exam. It did require that the person wanting to take the Bar exam have completed two years of college and to spend four years as an apprentice in a law firm, but there was no rule prohibiting those two tasks being completed concurrently.

Selecting Public Relations and Image Management; an easy major that Paul thought would allow him the freest time for the legal apprenticeship, he had been able to devote at least twenty hours each week to his uncle's law firm. Two weeks after graduating from Chapman University, Paul took and passed the California Bar exam with the highest score among all those sitting for the exam.

At the age of twenty-two, Paul was a card-carrying member of the California Bar. His first client was a former classmate who had written a song that a major studio had bought the rights to for inclusion in a planned movie soundtrack. When the soundtrack won an Academy Award, the studio's record-producing arm decided to release a CD containing all of the songs.

That first multi-million-dollar judgment in favor of his client had put Paul and his new law firm, Eddy Law, on the map and started attracting entertainment law and intellectual rights clients from all over the country. Since California didn't have Bar reciprocity with many other states, Paul took and passed the Bar exams in Tennessee and Georgia. That allowed him to personally represent clients in Nashville and Atlanta, two music meccas outside of California.

By his thirtieth birthday, Paul had well-established legal practices in Los Angeles, Nashville, and Atlanta. He had fourteen attorneys, three of whom had become partners, each managing one of the locations. He could have had far more clients and attorneys, but he refused to handle two of the most lucrative types of cases: personal injury and corporate law of any type.

While he was in Spring Place to attend Karly's wedding to Matt Nelson, Paul's parents had made their first comments about wanting to sell the seven-hundred-acre apple orchard that had been in the Eddy family for generations. Three years later, when Marly married Dave Rennert, his parents were getting closer to pulling the plug on the family business.

When Paul offered to buy the orchard and associated land from his parents, he hadn't intended to run the operations himself. He had planned on hiring a manager and crew to do that. After participating in his first harvest in two decades, Paul realized that he truly missed the peace of country life and the physical rewards of manual labor.

His Nashville office was only two and a half hours away, and his Atlanta offices were even closer; only an hour and a half in the opposite direction. The California operations were being well managed without his direct involvement, so there was no concern there. Why couldn't he live in Spring Place and still run his legal practices?

Paul had worked out a routine where he would spend Monday and Tuesday in Atlanta, Wednesday in Spring Place, and then Thursday and Friday in Nashville. Weekends were always spent at home. This had worked fine for just under two years when the presiding chief judge decided not to seek reelection. Paul jumped at the opportunity to take his place.

Though it wasn't a requirement, and Paul could have simply recused himself if the potential for a conflict of interest ever arose, he took the added step of divesting himself from his law firms entirely, placing his ownership assets into a blind trust that demonstrated to voters and others in the legal profession that he placed a very high priority on ethics and integrity.

As had always been the case, the chief judge candidacy was unopposed, and Paul was easily elected to his first four-year term. He was currently eleven months into his second term and saw no obstacles to holding the judgeship for as long as he wanted it. He had broken precedent by moving the Chief Judge's main office from the county courthouse for Whitfield County, in Dalton, to the county courthouse for Murray County in Chatsworth.

He was driving east on Highway 52, approaching Third Avenue in Chatsworth, when he spotted the car with the Alaska license plates ahead in the right lane. Paul needed to turn left at Third Avenue to get to the Murray County courthouse, but he switched to the right lane without a second thought and followed the car as it turned right.

The unplanned detour didn't take him too far off his route since the car with the Alaska plates only traveled for another block before turning into the parking lot for Peebles Funeral Home. Paul would be able to get back to his office well before the lunch recess for the court had ended.

~~~

He hadn't known her, but Paul now understood why he had thought he might have.

Emily Bethel, nee Cline, had been a party in a disillusionment of marriage filing a little over ten years ago. She had filed the divorce petition against one Charles Bethel, who had gone by the nickname, Chet. On the surface, it was a rather typical no-fault divorce petition, but Paul now recalled all the motions and settlement shenanigans that had become legendary among the judges, past and present.

The case had been decided five or six years before Paul had been elected to the bench, so for it to still be talked about by so many spoke volumes.

Charles Bethel was the only child of Dwight Bethel, who owned the Cascade Carpet Mill in Dalton. Even knowing that Charles was likely to inherit the family business, there had been no prenuptial agreement prior to the marriage. Charles and his parents had apparently believed that one was unnecessary when a family inheritance was involved.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on whose side of the table you sat on, Charles and his father devised a plan to transfer ownership of the business that didn't rely upon a death and subsequent inheritance. The plan involved Charles financing a buyout of his father through loans against personal assets, such as their home. Finances that were community property within the marriage between Charles and Emily Bethel.

Considering that the numerous extramarital dalliances of Charles Bethel had come to light when not one, but two of the mill's female employees had filed paternity suits against him, in the opinion of the presiding judge, Emily had been extremely fair in her settlement demands. She had done this in exchange for being granted full custody of their one child, as well as the one that she was pregnant with at the time of the divorce.

Emily only expected Charles to pay the mortgage on their home until the children had both reached the age of eighteen, and for her half share of the company business to be placed into a trust for the benefit of his daughters' education, with the proviso that she would be allowed to perform a yearly audit of the mill's finances.

Savings, checking, and investment accounts, which were part of the marriage, were split equally. Emily assumed all debt except the mortgage, and she demanded no child support or alimony. She had even offered liberal visitations for Charles if he desired.

Charles Bethel's attorneys had argued against Emily's claims to half of the family business. When that had failed, they challenged their client's paternity relative to Emily's children, alleging that she had been having an affair for their entire marriage. Failing there, they attacked Emily's mental state, accused her of fraudulently pilfering away money from the marital accounts, and every other dirty trick that they could think of to force Emily to relent on her right to half of Cascade Carpet Mills.

His lawyers had bombarded the presiding judge with motion after motion in their attempts to get a settlement more favorable to their client. In the end, the judge had accepted the settlement proposed by Emily, with the stipulation that since the paternity tests had proven Charles Bethel to be the biological father of the children, he would be required to pay child support until each child had reached the age of eighteen.

Paul recalled all of this from conversations that he had held with the presiding judge and a couple of the clerks at the time that the case was before the court. He could pull the actual transcripts to learn what sort of job or other sources of income Emily Bethel had which had allowed her to so casually disregard any spousal support from her husband, but he saw no point at this time.

She had died last Sunday in a single car accident along a treacherous portion of Highway 52, just as it climbed into the western side of the Chattahoochee-Oconee National Forests. Having not read or seen any news reports about the accident himself, Paul's only knowledge of the event was from what his sisters had told him when describing their plans for the celebration of life cookout at Karly's home on Saturday.

As his campaign manager always told Paul, "You never stop seeking reelection." Following that advice pretty much settled the matter of whether he would attend the cookout. Regardless of the reason for the gathering, you don't miss the opportunity to be seen by and rub elbows with a hundred or so voters.

Chapter Two

"Can we pick some apples, Aunt Lin?"

Lindsey looked at Emily's youngest daughter, Annie, in the rearview mirror as she answered, "We can check to see if they allow people to pick their own. Not all orchards do."

Since this particular orchard appeared to abut the property where the rustic cabin she was renting was located, it would certainly be convenient if they did allow people to come into the orchard to pick their own apples. When they had passed it, it was obvious that the current harvest was being done by hired workers, so public picking was probably not something that they allowed. Lindsey would check regardless.

Her immediate concern was getting the groceries and their bags into the cabin and the girls settled as soon as possible. Lindsey wanted them relaxed and suitably occupied so that she could make the phone calls she wanted to make before 5 p.m., or she might miss the people that she needed to speak with.

Knowing that she would likely be refused if she tried to check the girls out of their schools without yet having anything to prove her legal guardianship of them, Lindsey had to resort to meeting Janice at Beth Landers' home, the neighbor's house where Megan and Annie had been staying, and then waiting for them to arrive on the school bus.

The girls had been overjoyed to see the woman that they had always known as "Aunt Lin", and openly displayed their affection for her, which had reassured Beth that the girls knew Lindsey and that she wasn't some stranger to them.

While Lindsey had not visited Spring Place that frequently, the girls had never suffered from a lack of attention from her. They both spoke with Lindsey at least once a week, received regular gifts, typically as a reward for some academic or athletic accomplishment, and were lavished with presents from her on their birthdays and Christmas.

For at least two weeks over their summer, and several weekends throughout the year, Lindsey would either visit Spring Place, or make arrangements for Emily and her daughters to join her someplace that they all would enjoy. They had visited every major amusement park in the country, most zoos, museums, and other attractions that Emily and Lindsey could fit into their schedules. From collecting seashells along the coast of Oregon, to Disney cruises in the Caribbean, Lindsey had always focused on finding ways to be in these girls' lives.

From what Beth had shared with Lindsey prior to the girls getting home from school, they had been taking the death of their mother pretty well, all things considered. Both women surmised that the reality of things hadn't yet set in for the girls in the two days since the accident. Lindsey needed to be prepared for when the grieving began in earnest. For this, she wanted the girls to be with her, which was one of the reasons why she had sought to rent this rustic four-bedroom cabin rather than staying in a hotel.

Megan was sitting in the front passenger seat and saw the cabin before her sister. She asked, "Is this your house, Aunt Lin?"

Before Lindsey could answer, Annie asked, "Are we going to live here with you?"

Lindsey stopped the car in the driveway before answering the girls, "I am renting this place until we decide together what we want to do. Your Mom wanted me to take care of you both if something ever happened to her, and that is what I am going to do, but you will both have a say in things like where we live. Okay?"

Both girls merely nodded and began unfastening their seatbelts. Lindsey continued, "We have a lot to decide on, but nothing has to be done right away. There are a lot of legal matters and other details that we will need to wade through in the next few weeks, but I just want you two to know that I am with you now, and I'm not going to let anything happen to either of you. Just like your mom was, I am now the momma bear and you are my cubs."

"Grrrr!" roared both girls at the same time. It was the familiar response that they had always shared with their mother when she had called them her cubs.

Laughing, Lindsey led them up the front porch and unlocked the door. This place was a rustic cabin in style only. Studying the interior, Lindsey saw a well-designed and comfortable family home.

She instructed, "Why don't you two go explore and see what sleeping arrangements that you might want. There should be one of the bedrooms with two twin beds if you want to share a room, or you can each pick your own room if you want. I'll get the groceries unloaded first, so maybe by the time I bring your bags in, you will have decided where they go."

The girls decided that they each wanted one of the two rooms that shared the "Jack-n-Jill", or in their case, the "Jill-n-Jill" bathroom. Lindsey understood that with the doors on both sides of the bathroom open, the sisters would still be able to consider themselves together rather than separated. They would be able to talk to and hear each other while technically sleeping in different rooms. This was the same bedroom arrangement that they had in their own house.

"Can you girls put away the rest of the groceries while I make a couple of phone calls?" Lindsey asked. "All that's left is the stuff that goes into the refrigerator."

"Sure," Megan said as Annie just nodded. "Do you want us to do anything to get supper started?"

Lindsey hugged both girls and said, "I only bought the essentials at the store. I thought that we would all figure out our meals later and then go shopping for what we will need to prepare them."

With a hand on each sister's shoulder, Lindsey prodded, "How would you both feel about going out for dinner tonight? Not anyplace close where we might run into people that know you, but someplace like Willie's over in Dalton?"

From what Lindsey had learned from Beth Landers, and later the girls themselves, expressions of sympathy and curiosity over how the girls were holding up had come mostly from teachers and other adults; at least so far. Lindsey wanted to protect the girls from more of the same for as long as possible. People were usually well-meaning, but these young girls deserved to grieve in private, without having to put on strong faces in public.

Willie's Famous Burgers and Fries on Emery Street in Dalton was a spot that Lindsey knew that Emily and the girls had loved to visit. Early on a Tuesday evening, it would be unlikely that anyone who knew the Bethel girls would be there to recognize them. Megan and Annie either thought the same thing or wanted to go bad enough that it wouldn't matter to them if they were recognized. Their enthusiastic response sealed the deal.

"Great," Lindsey confirmed. "Let's get this party started. Finish putting the groceries away and then wait for me in the living room. I should only be on the phone for a few minutes."

Leaving the sisters in the kitchen, Lindsey grabbed her purse, went into the master bedroom, and closed the door. She had cued the desired phone number up earlier, so all she had to do was press the dial icon on her cell phone.

"Post 43, Trooper Hayes," was the greeting, assuring Lindsey that she had reached the Georgia State Patrol post that served Murray and Gordon Counties.

"Good afternoon," Lindsey replied. "May I speak with someone on the Specialized Collision Reconstruction Team?"

"Sure, hold one minute and I'll see who might be in," Trooper Hayes politely replied.

Right before being placed on hold, Lindsey heard the tell-tale beep that indicated the call was being recorded. That didn't bother her, and wasn't unexpected. Her wait was shorter than she had expected though.

This time it was a female voice that answered, "This is Investigator Kingman. How may I be of assistance?"

Quickly writing down the investigator's name, Lindsey explained, "Good afternoon. My name is Lindsey Norris. I hold the power of attorney for and am the personal representative for the late Emily Bethel. I was hoping to speak with someone familiar with the investigation into her fatal accident last Sunday."

There was a pause on the other end before Kingman replied, "I am familiar with the investigation, but there isn't anything about it that I would be able to share with you over the phone. I would need to verify that you are who you claim to be as well as the authorization that you claim to have..."

Lindsey interrupted her, "I understand all of that and appreciate your position. If it becomes necessary, I will visit your post in Calhoun and provide all the details that you require to authenticate who I am. All I am seeking at this time is who initiated your investigation. Can you tell me if it was the troopers who responded to the accident, the Georgia Bureau of Investigation, the Murray County Coroner, or someone else?"

Another pause and the sound of fingers typing on a keyboard. Kingman finally said, "The SCRT request was filed by Jodie Mathers with GBI on October 12, 2026, at 08:37."

Lindsey sighed in relief. Getting that name hadn't been too challenging. She was curious about what else she might be able to get.

"Does the request say which team within the GBI this Jodie Mathers works on?" Lindsey pried.

The response was immediate, "I am not at liberty to divulge that information."

Lindsey tried another approach, "Then does it give any contact information for her, such as her phone number or e-mail address?"

"Ma'am," Kingman replied, "Even if you submitted a freedom of information request, the information you are requesting would likely be redacted. Is there anything further that I can assist you with?"

After a few seconds of thought, Lindsey decided that she had gotten all that she was likely to get out of this phone call. She muttered, "No, and thank you."

She at least had a bit more information than before. When the funeral home where Lindsey had expected to finalize the arrangements for Emily's cremation and memorial service had informed her that the county coroner had not released Emily's body yet, she had driven directly to the coroner's office. There she had been told that the toxicology report necessary to verify both the cause of death and possible contributing factors to the accident had not been completed.

The deputy coroner had told her that even once the autopsy was completed, the teams investigating the accident would likely request that the body be held until their conclusions were reached. He could provide Emily with no explanation for the protracted accident investigation or an idea on when Emily's body might be released to the funeral home.

Of course, no body was technically required in order to hold the planned memorial service next Saturday. Emily had left instructions in her will for her body to be cremated, and even if that wasn't the case, the extensive burns and other injuries that Emily's body had received in the accident had made an open casket at the memorial service an impossibility.

Lindsey's biggest concern was that without the coroner establishing a cause of death for Emily Bethel, there would be no death certificate issued. Without a death certificate, most aspects of Emily's will, including Lindsey's appointment as Emily's personal representative, and guardian of Megan and Annie held no legal standing. She would have to discuss this with Janice. Lindsey also needed to follow up with Janice on her recommendations for a family law attorney.

Her call to Janice was quick. The lawyer had explained that she would get a court order if necessary, requiring the coroner to issue a preliminary death certificate that would fulfill the probate and all other legal requirements until the final and official death certificate would be available. As Janice had put it, "Holding the death certificate won't bring Emily back to life. Her death is a certainty even if they feel the cause of it is undetermined at this time."

Lindsey came away from the call reassured that the memorial service could proceed as planned and that Janice would let everyone know that things were still on for Saturday.

Watching Megan voluntarily getting into the back seat so that her younger sister could ride in the front seat this time made Lindsey proud. Emily had assured her that it was through witnessing their own non-competitive, supportive, and loving relationship as friends over the years, which had been the behavior example that Megan and Annie had adopted as their own as sisters.

Pausing the car at the entrance to the apple orchard on the next property, Lindsey handed her phone to Annie and asked, "Can you enter the phone number on that sign into my phone? That will help remind me to call and see if they would allow us to pick our own apples."

Annie excitedly took the proffered phone and entered the number as Megan leaned forward to watch and assist her sister if necessary. When she was done, she set Lindsey's phone into one of the cup holders.

Annie then asked, "Aunt Lin, why aren't you married? Mom always said it was because you were so picky. What did she mean?"

Megan scolded her sister, "Annie, that's none of our business!"

"No, that's fine," Lindsey chuckled. "However, it might be a better conversation topic for us to discuss while eating our dinner. Can you wait that long, Annie?"

When Annie merely nodded, Lindsey began thinking about what she would tell the girls. Emily had told her daughters that their aunt was "picky', which was a term that Emily had also used with Lindsey several times over the years. The fact that Ricky Campos remained the only "boyfriend" that Emily had ever known Lindsey to have didn't mean that there hadn't been other men.

True, every other relationship had remained casual and short-lived, but Lindsey knew that the reason for this wasn't related to her being too selective, at least not entirely. Years of counseling had shown that Lindsey's issues stemmed from a lack of trust, and these hadn't started with Ricky Campos.

Her trust issues had actually started by learning what trust meant to her. It had begun with her trusting someone emphatically, and in all ways. Someone who had let her be herself, without judgment or desiring to change her. Someone who Lindsey felt would have done anything for her, and her for him. A person who placed no demands on her, let her control her own choices, and only expected her to trust him as he trusted her.

Someone who set the bar for all others so high that no one else had ever come close. Someone that she had known for four weeks during the summer of her fourteenth year. Someone who she only remembered as, "Eddie".

It had started innocently enough on her first day at the YMCA camp that her parents had sent her to. There had been a rope hanging from a tree limb that kids would use to swing out from a slight bluff along the lake shore and drop into the water. Lindsey had no difficulty grabbing the rope and jumping towards the lake; her problem was releasing the rope and dropping into the water.

She had no fear of the water, and was actually a very accomplished swimmer. She also had no fear of heights, so the distance to the water from the rope didn't bother her. She had dived into pools from greater heights. Lindsey just couldn't garner enough confidence to let go of the darn rope and kept winding back on the ground where she had started.

Lindsey let the line of kids waiting for the rope to take their turns before making one more try. This time, when it was her turn, one of the camp counselors stepped up beside her. "Can we do it together?" he asked her.

Lindsey looked up into the kindest and most reassuring face that she had ever seen and asked, "How do you mean?"

His smile captivated her so much that all she could do was smile back at him and nod. When he instructed, "Put your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist. I'll do the rest. You can trust me."

"Let's get this party started," Lindsey thought. She never had any doubts about his sincerity. Lindsey confidently assumed the position that he had suggested and squealed in delight as he swung both of them out over the water, farther than anyone else had gone before releasing the rope and holding her tight against his body until they were both submerged beneath the lake water.

The next time, he had instructed Lindsey to hold the rope as he held her tightly against his body and launched them once more over the lake water. On his command, she released the rope and the couple once again entered the water together. By the time that Eddie had to depart the lakeshore to attend to other tasks, Lindsey was confidently using the rope on her own but missing him more than anyone she had ever known.

After dinner that evening, Eddie had found her sitting alone and coaxed her to join him to roast marshmallows on the campfire. Every day and evening after that, he had been there whenever Lindsey had doubts about an event, her capabilities, or even just herself. Although he had still fulfilled his responsibilities to all the other campers, Eddie had been clearly devoted to Lindsey and her needs for the whole four weeks of the camp

Eddie had instilled her with confidence, that, through her trust in him and his support of her, she could achieve things that she had never even imagined trying. He had made her feel like more than a child in the eyes of another person for the very first time, and she had adored him for it.

When Eddie had kissed her behind one of the cabins on their last night at the camp, it had been her first kiss, and remained the one that every kiss since then had paled in comparison to.

Lindsey had known that Eddie lived in the same general area as her because they had shared tales of their experiences at many of the local sites. But since he was four years older than her, they had never met before the camp. As Lindsey was preparing to enter high school in the fall, Eddie would be going away to college.

Although they had both discussed and accepted the futility of them maintaining any type of relationship, due to both the distance as well as the age gap between them, Lindsey had pined away for Eddie for three years. She had never found any boys her age who instilled in her the sense of trusting connection between two people that she had experienced with Eddie. Finally, in her senior year, she had settled on dating Ricky Campos, admittedly due more to the expectations of others rather than any true attraction on her part.

Lindsey still remembered all the times that Ricky had wanted to try things with her that she had refused. She hadn't wanted him touching her breasts. She hadn't wanted him to "play" with her, or her with him, and she certainly hadn't wanted to have actual sex with him. Now, if it had been Eddie, she would have willingly done everything with him. Because she had trusted Eddie.

There had been so many nights when Lindsey would recall the feel of Eddie. His strength, tenderness, and warmth on cool summer nights along the lakeshore. She would diligently purge the images from her mind of Eddie with some fully-developed college girl with her arms and legs wrapped around Eddie like Lindsey had done so many times in the lake that summer.

It was with fantasies of being with him again that let Lindsey overcome her embarrassment of watching her young body in the mirror as it developed, or her being ashamed to wear a bathing suit around boys her own age. She just knew that Eddie would have been proud to be seen with her, and that she could trust his appreciation for the young woman that she was becoming.

Ricky Campos aside, no other man had ever actually broken Lindsey's trust. The reality was that none had ever earned her trust to allow it to be broken. Lindsey couldn't claim to have any "exes", but she certainly had a few "whys" in her past. So, if being able to quickly determine whether a man was capable of earning her trust made Lindsey "picky", she would wear that badge proudly.

While stopped at the traffic light in Spring Place, Lindsey decided to plug her phone back into the USB cable so that it connected once again with the car. She was pretty certain that she remembered the way to Willie's but having the verbal directions available if need seemed like a prudent move.

Setting the now connected phone back into the cup holder, Lindsey's thoughts returned to the man who had given it to her. Something that he had said held some meaning to her. It had resonated with her for some reason. What was it?

~~~

"There's an Ariel Brenner on the phone for you, Judge. She says that she is with Eddy Law and needs to speak with you."

Paul looked away from his computer screen momentarily to address his clerk, "Give me a minute, Connie, then put her through."

Ariel Brenner was a name that Paul recognized. She was a junior associate at his former law firm who, if he remembered correctly, specialized in family law and estate planning. She had been hired shortly before he had divested his ownership of the firm, so he didn't know her very well.

When his phone beeped to indicate the call had been transferred to him, he answered, "Good afternoon, Ms. Brenner. How can I be of service to you?"

A pleasant-sounding southern-accented voice drawled sweetly, "Good afternoon, Your Honor. How are you today?"

"I am well, Ms. Brenner. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The sweetness dripped even more profusely from her voice as Ariel replied, "Your Honor, I am calling to discuss a new client who has retained our, and by that, I mean my services, to represent him in a matter that may very well come before your court. I can't foresee any potential conflict of interest or ethical issues, but I wanted to make you aware of the situation and give you a chance to evaluate the matter before it comes before you in an official capacity."

"Ms. Brenner," Paul replied in earnest, "I appreciate your consideration more than I can express with words alone. Why don't you fill me in on the client and the case as you understand it at this time?"

There was no hesitation as Ariel explained, "Yes, Your Honor. The client is named Charles Bethel, and the case involves his seeking legal and physical custody of his two minor daughters after the untimely death of his ex-wife."

Paul was reluctant to share his knowledge of both the divorce proceedings that he remembered and his awareness of Emily Bethel's death. He simply affirmed, "That sounds pretty cut and dry. Do you foresee any challenges to the father's petition for custody of his children?"

Ariel explained, "We have been informed that there are no other relatives to contest his petition, but the deceased mother is reported to have a will that might name a preferred guardian for the children. Someone other than my client. I may have to challenge any such appointment in favor of granting custody to the biological father of the children."

"I understand," Paul quipped. "Have you filed anything yet with the court to get on the docket?"

"I'll be driving up to Chatsworth tomorrow morning to file the custody petition," Ariel admitted. "If you're free for lunch, I would love to pick your brain about a few things here in the office."

Paul thought for a minute. Ariel Brenner had been hired at Eddy Law a little over five years ago as a junior associate. It stood to reason that since she was still with the firm, she had comported herself well over that time, which likely meant that she had been promoted at least once, and maybe twice. If she was currently a senior associate, as Paul suspected that she was, she was now on track to be offered the chance to accept a partner position with the firm.

One other thing that he remembered about Ariel Brenner was the fact that she was an extremely beautiful young woman who didn't harbor any apparent reservations about using her God-given physical attributes to her full advantage. He hadn't participated in any of her interviews, but he had been consulted about how some racy photos of Ariel on the internet from her college days could reflect on the firm if they ever became known to current or potential clients. He had dismissed any concerns at the time, which he was certain contributed to her being offered a position.

Returning his focus to his conversation, Paul said, "While the case as you have outlined it should not raise any ethical concerns, I think it best if you and I maintain a strictly professional posture and keep our interactions limited to the courtroom until after the case is resolved. I hope that you understand."

Ariel sputtered and momentarily lost her southern accent, "Yes, Your Honor, I understand, and I respect your position. Thank you for your time."

Paul had barely hung up his desk phone before his cell phone rang. Checking the display, he saw that his sister, Karly, was calling, so he answered, "How's my second favorite sister?"

"I thought that I was your favorite sister," Karly rebuffed.

Paul teased back, "You were until you called to bother me here at work. What do you need?"

"We need to switch to a video call so that you can see me sticking my tongue out at you," Karly chided.

"What?" Paul chuckled. "You don't think that I have that image seared into my brain after 37 years?"

Karly countered, "Oh, the tongue I have for you now is unlike any that you have seen before, and if you show up on Saturday, it will be certain to reappear at some point. Count on it."

Still chuckling at his sister, Paul said, "Oh, I look forward to it. So, again, what do you need from your older brother so desperately that it couldn't wait thirty more minutes?"

"I wanted to give you a heads-up and ask you a favor," Karly explained.

"Go on," is all that Paul said.

Karly continued, "Janice Evers is on her way to the courthouse to request a court order for a preliminary death certificate for Emily Bethel. Apparently, the investigation into the crash that she died in will take several more days, but Janice needs a death certificate to begin probate proceedings and establish guardianship for Emily's daughters. I would consider it a favor if you saw that the court order gets issued today."

Checking the time, Paul said, "It's almost four-forty-five."

"And we both know that you don't have a hot date or anything that would require you to leave exactly at five," Karly said with an obvious smirk. She then spoke in a more pleading tone, "Please just hang there a few minutes for her. Please!"

"I need to get to the orchard before the crew leaves for the day to check on the harvest," Paul said irritably. "They will leave by five-thirty whether I am there or not."

"I'll run over to the orchard for you," Karly offered. "I still remember how to shut things down for the day. Would that help you?"

"Yeah, that would work," Paul grudgingly agreed. "About Saturday, the cookout starts at one, right?"

"When the cookout starts has zero bearing on when you would be welcome to come by," Karly stated emphatically. "You know that."

Paul said, "Yes, I do know that, and thanks. The reason I was asking is that if you and Marly wanted to feed lunch to Davey Junior and what's her name as soon as possible after the cookout starts, I could then take them with me to the orchards and let them pick some apples for an hour or two to get them out of your hair."

Karly laughed, "You better not let Jessica hear you calling her that, or bites from her will be the least of your worries."

Until she was around five, his now ten-year-old niece had a nasty habit of biting him whenever he told her "No," for any reason. Once Jessica was assured that she had her uncle wrapped firmly around her little finger, her bites had been replaced by loving kisses on his cheek.

Marly's six-year-old son, Davey Junior, just went along to get along, a trait that he had apparently learned from his father's marriage to his headstrong mother.

"Anyway," Karly said, "I'm sure that both kids would welcome the opportunity to spend the time with you rather than with a bunch of stuffy grown-ups. I'll speak to Marly about it, but I'm sure that she will agree. Please take care of Janice for me, okay?"

Paul ignored the obvious dig at his lack of maturity when around his niece and nephew and just said, "I'll take care of things for her. You can trust me."

It seemed like Paul was playing a game of "Whack-a-Mole" with his phones when his desk phone beeped as soon as he had disconnected his call with Karly on his cell phone. He answered, "Yes, Connie?"

"Janice Evers is here to see you, Your Honor. I don't see her having an appointment but she says that it's urgent."

Paul sighed, "It's okay, Connie, I am expecting her. Please send Janice in."

Janice Evers certainly didn't dress to impress a judge, but she did dress to impress any male of the species with a heartbeat. She actually seemed embarrassed by that fact, "I apologize, Your Honor, I was on my way to a yoga class but I didn't want to risk missing you by returning home to change."

"It's not a problem, Miss Evers," Paul replied while standing and pointing to his own casual dress of khaki pants and denim shirt. "We're not in a courtroom, so we can relax protocols a bit. Do you have a drafted order for me to sign?"

Realizing that Karly had paved the way with her brother, the judge, Janice relaxed, pulled the document out of her bag, and handed it to Paul.

As he reviewed the document, Paul commented, "I didn't know Emily Bethel, but I want to offer my condolences to you and others who did know her. I am getting the impression that she was very well liked from the anticipated turnout at the celebration of life cookout that Karly and Marly are planning."

Janice nodded, "Emily was an angel. Well, she was if you ignore the sin of ignorance that led her to marry the asshole that she did."

He didn't want to reveal his recollection of the divorce proceedings, so Paul asked, "You will be handling the probate for her estate? Is there potential for any portions of it to be contested? I understand that she had children from her marriage to said asshole."

Shrugging, Janice said, "You know how it is, Your Honor, anyone can contest anything. That's why you judges make the big bucks, sorting out those arguments with Solomon-like wisdom when interested parties disagree about things."

Finished reviewing the order, Paul signed it and handed it back to Janice, saying, "Please ask Connie to make a copy of that for the court clerk before you leave."

"Of course, Your Honor," Janice stammered as she turned for the door. "Thank you for seeing me."

Watching her leave, Paul's only thought was, "The pleasure of seeing you was all mine."

Checking the time once more, Paul saw that there were only five minutes before Connie was scheduled to clock out. Opening his office door to verify that Janice had left, he asked his assistant, "Connie, could you please get Dwight Brown on the phone for me before you leave?"

Connie nodded but didn't otherwise reply before Paul stepped back into his office and closed the door. He had just made it back to his desk chair when his phone beeped.

"Good afternoon, Dwight," Paul cheerfully said. "I hope that I'm not interrupting anything."

"Not at all, Your Honor," Captain Dwight Brown replied. "How can I be of service?"

Paul explained, "I just signed a court order for a preliminary death certificate to be issued for one Emily Bethel. I was hoping that you could enlighten me on the investigation into her accident to convince me that the order was justified rather than waiting a day or two more."

Brown hesitated a few seconds before responding, "I am only vaguely familiar with that one, Your Honor. SCRT is handling the investigation, but if you give me a second, I will pull the latest report up on my computer for you."

"Thanks, Captain. Take your time."

Paul waited patiently as he heard keyboard clicking, followed by silence when he assumed Brown was reading the details. When Captain Brown next spoke, the tone of his voice was more guarded than before.

He started, "I think that you can rest assured that ordering a preliminary death certificate was the right move, Your Honor. This is definitely going to take longer than a couple of days."

"Can you share the reason?" Paul asked.

"Let me back up," Brown said. "The coroner might be ready to confirm the cause of death tomorrow after reviewing what the SCRT team sent him this afternoon. I think that will depend on whether he believes toxicology tests on the victim's blood would alter the evidence presented from the accident investigation or not."

Paul asked brusquely, "What are you talking about? What evidence?"

After an audible sigh, Brown continued, "The scene of the accident shows signs that Emily Bethel's car could not have been traveling more than five miles per hour when it left the side of Highway 52. The first impact spot down the cliff is too close to the road for the car to have been traveling faster than that. The fire that destroyed the car made it difficult, but the technicians were able to clearly identify paint residue within the dents found on the car's front left fender."

"Are you saying that Emily Bethel's car was purposely pushed off the side of the road?" Paul asked incredulously.

"Not just pushed, Your Honor," Brown stated emphatically. "Her car was likely at a dead stop when it was purposely pushed off the side of the road. If the coroner accepts the evidence of that, I expect that he will issue a death certificate tomorrow or Friday with the cause of death listed as homicide."

Chapter Three

"Homicide!" Lindsey gasped. "Oh, my God!"

She had stopped by Janice Ever's office on Friday morning to review the petition declaring her the administrator for Emily Bethel's will and personal representative for the probate of Emily's estate.

Janice explained, "That is what I have been told that her official death certificate will indicate as her cause of death. It shouldn't affect anything relative to the probate of her estate or you gaining custody of the girls, but there is something else that might."

An even more shocked Lindsey asked, "What?"

"Chet is seeking custody of his daughters," Janice groaned. "He is also demanding to be named as the administrator on the trust that Emily had established from her half of the Cascade Carpet Mill."

"Fuck!" Lindsey exclaimed. "Pardon my French. Where are you at in finding someone who specializes in family law cases?"

Janice Evers' law firm handled estate and tax law exclusively. While there was nothing preventing her from representing Lindsey in a family law case, she knew that her lack of experience in that area of the law could prove to be detrimental to her client.

She huffed in exasperation and explained, "The best family law team in the state is with Eddy Law out of Atlanta, but Chet beat us to them. We may have to settle for second best."

Lindsey bellowed, "Bullshit! We are not limited to attorneys in Georgia. Can't a lawyer in another state represent me if their state has an arrangement with Georgia?"

Janice nodded solemnly, "It's called reciprocity, and that is limited. Depending upon the type of case, the Bar Association or the presiding judge may deem a lawyer from another state unqualified due to their lack of familiarity with specific laws in this state. Family law is one of the areas of specialty where extreme differences often exist between states. So, out-of-state attorneys may have to prove their knowledge of not just family law, but Georgia's family laws. We may not have time for someone from outside Georgia to prove themselves qualified to represent you."

"So, what do we do?" Lindsey implored.

Janice paused for a second, considering her response. Then, "Look, we need to be pragmatic. My fees for handling the probate of the estate were paid up front when Emily set everything up, and if that retainer isn't adequate, we can list me as another of the creditors to be paid out of the estate during probate. The bigger issue that we need to consider, is how to pay for someone to represent you in any custody fight. Technically, Emily's estate shouldn't be involved in funding that."

Lindsey realized that Janice was right. She was representing Emily, or in this case Emily's estate. That was her client, not her. Janice held no responsibility towards Lindsey other than what was required to get her assigned as the administrator of the will. This needed to change if Lindsey was going to be able to make use of Janice, as it looked like she might need to.

Lindsey picked up her purse and asked, "How much?"

Confused, Janice asked, "For what?"

"For whatever," Lindsey said impatiently. "For you to write a will for me, plan my estate, whatever I need to pay you for to make you my attorney as well."

"I can't represent you in a family law case," Janice argued. "We've discussed that. You need someone skilled in that area of the law, and that's not me."

"What I need," Lindsey grumbled, "is someone that I can trust to advise me. I don't care if you bill a single hour working on my estate issues right now. I need to be able to trust you and know that what is said between you and me is privileged and protected. So, how much?"

Janice hesitated before asking in a conciliatory tone, "Could you afford a thousand dollars? That would be enough to substantiate you as a genuine client of the firm."

Quickly producing a credit card and handing it to Janice, Lindsey instructed, "Put ten thousand on this card and keep all the details on it for any additional fees in the future. There is no limit on this card, and there is no limit on what I will pay to ensure that Emily's wishes are met. Understand?"

A stunned Janice Evers studied the black American Express card for only a second before choking out, "Okay."

"Good," Janice said. "So, we have attorney-client privilege now, correct?"

Snorting, Janice said, "Technically, there are some forms for you to sign, but we can fudge on the sequence of events if it ever becomes an issue. Why is privilege so important to you?"

Lindsey frowned and explained, "Because Emily and I had secrets we kept from everyone else. I need to share one of those secrets with you, but it needs to remain between just us. We're good there now, right?"

"We would have been good there without me being your attorney," Janice assured her friend. "However, you now have the Georgia Bar Association and its codes of ethics, not to mention the laws of this state, to guarantee my confidentiality."

Satisfied with Janice's answer, Lindsey began, "Money is never going to be an issue for me, or for Emily's girls. I was not merely a computer programmer, as Emily told anyone who asked about me. After college, I founded and owned one of the leading corporations in the robotics and neural technology segment. I recently sold the company to the employees and walked away with a fortune worth slightly more than seventeen billion dollars. That is what I need you to help me keep secret."

"Holy crap!" Janice muttered. "I can assure you that no one in Spring Place is aware of this, and they certainly won't hear about it from me. I can tell you that knowing that these cases won't bankrupt you takes a load off my mind and opens up a lot more options for how we proceed with things."

"Then let's get started," Lindsey snapped. "Where do we begin?"

Pointing to the petition for the probate court, Janice said, "With that. I'll get it filed with the clerk of the probate court this morning and request an expedited appointment for you from the judge. Once we have that, the various notifications need to go out to inform any of Emily's relatives, creditors, or others claiming an interest in her estate that it has been filed with the court and what their timeframe is to respond."

In an agitated tone, Lindsey said, "Not the probate, the custody case. The estate is all about money, which I can easily handle if necessary. Hell, you could let others have every cent in the accounts, and even her life insurance and it wouldn't matter in the long run..."

Janice interrupted, "It's not just money. It's also potential leverage in the custody case. We know that in addition to seeking custody of the girls, he is also targeting their trust, and I wouldn't be surprised if he also tries to get the house. If the probate court rules in favor of the directions that Emily left in her will, that will be to our advantage when the custody case is heard. There may be other items related to the probate case that could impact the custody case, so the sooner that we can get you representation for that, the sooner whoever that is and I can put our heads together to present a coordinated strategy that serves both cases best."

Lindsey nodded in understanding, "So, now that you know that money won't be an issue in paying for that representation, does it give you options that you hadn't considered before?"

"It does," Janice said. "I'm going to start by going back to the well."

"What well?"

Janice giggled, "The friendship well. Do you remember the twins from high school? Those cute sisters that were both cheerleaders?"

Lindsey shrugged, "Vaguely. Why?"

"Marly and Karly," Janice explained. "They are the ones hosting the cookout for the celebration of life event tomorrow. You'll get a chance to reconnect with them then. Anyway, they have an older brother who is one of the best legal minds in the country. I have used my friendship with his sisters to get a few favors from him in the past, so maybe the same approach will work for us again."

"Why don't we just hire their brother to represent me if he is such a hot-shot attorney?" Lindsey probed.

Janice snickered, "Because he is the judge most likely to preside over the case if it goes to trial. He is the Chief Judge for the Superior Court in the Conasauga Judicial Circuit in Chatsworth. Even if he doesn't preside over the trial himself, he will assign the judge that does."

She became more serious as she explained, "We can't just ask him to refer us to an attorney on a case that he might be involved in, so if I phrase it right with his sisters, and they ask him without knowing which case it is, he is shielded from any impropriety by giving them a name."

Lindsey laughed and asked, "Are all lawyers as devious as you?"

"You better hope not," Jancie chuckled.

~~~

"Hold on, he's answering," Marly Rennert said to silence her companions.

Janice had suggested to Lindsey that they invite Karly Nelson and Marly Rennert to lunch. It would allow them to get reconnected, discuss the plans for the celebration of life cookout, and feel the twins out on asking their brother for a family law attorney referral.

Being most familiar with the court schedule and when the judge would be most likely to be on a lunch recess, Janice had taken the lead and started by asking the twins to work their magic on their older brother. The three women not holding the cell phone could only hear one side of the conversation, but that was enough to make them all struggle to control their laughter.

Marly said into the phone, "No, this is your favorite sister, Marly. I left my phone in the car, so I'm using Karly's to call you."

Lindsey and Janice covered their mouths when they saw Karly stick her tongue out at her sister. Marly ignored her and continued, "I know that you're not busy because I checked with Connie before calling. She told me that you were just eating lunch at your desk, so there."

The trio couldn't hear what was said, but they did hear Marly counter, "Nice try, but I've seen you eat. You never bother to even taste your food."

Another brief pause as something must have been said on the other end before Marly said, "Whatever. Listen, the reason for my call is to once more task your reptilian male brain with a question. If you ever found yourself in need of a divorce attorney, who would you select?"

Marly laughed at whatever the response was before continuing, "Yes, I know just how improbable that scenario would be, but it's not as improbable as me asking you, 'If you had a friend who needed a divorce attorney,' because you have no friends. Well, none besides me and Karly, and we're kinda forced to be your friends by blood."

Lindsey was tempted to leave the table at the café where they were having lunch. She wasn't certain that she would be able to resist laughing out loud much longer. She bit the inside of her mouth and continued listening.

"You ain't ever kissing your nephew again with a mouth like that," Marley teased. She then motioned for her sister to write something down on one of the napkins.

"Mylene," Marly repeated what she was being told. "M-Y-L-E-N-E, got it. And her last name is Monroe? Is that with a 'U' or an 'O'? Right, M-O-N-R-O-E. Got it. Okay, I'll wait for your text. Thanks, big brother."

Disconnecting the call and handing the phone back to Karly, Marly explained, "There is only one attorney in the state that he recommends, but apparently, she is extremely selective with who she represents as clients. Her schedule is limited since she is the professor at the University of Georgia in Athens that teaches the family law courses. Anyway, he'll text us her contact information in a few minutes."

Lindsey leaned over and whispered two words into Janice's ear, "Get her." She then addressed the twins, "As an only child, I envy the relationship that you both have with each other, and with your brother."

Karly laughed, "Our brother probably wishes that he had been an only child."

"No, he loves us to death," Marly giggled in response. "You will probably get a chance to meet him tomorrow. In fact, since you're single..."

Karly interrupted her sister before she could go too far, "Knock it off. We promised that we would stop playing matchmaker for him."

Lindsey picked a different subject. Addressing Karly, she said, "Can I ask you mothers a question? Do you think I should bring Emily's girls to the celebration of her life or find someone to watch them?"

"From what I have seen," Karly said, "Emily has raised some remarkably resilient and strong girls. How have they been handling things so far?"

"They've been each other's rock," Lindsey admitted. "I have heard them crying and being supportive of each other in their rooms, but so far, they have kept their grief just between sisters. We have talked together some about the future, and I have tried to reassure them that I will always take care of them and protect them. I know though, that me not being able to provide them with specific answers for questions such as 'where will we live', bothers them.

"They have also shared how much they hate the attention from people over their mom's death and their desire not to be treated as if they were 'broken or something'. That is my biggest concern about bringing them to the celebration."

"Wait," Karly stammered, "Are you telling us that you are named as the legal guardian for Emily's girls? They must hardly know you."

She turned to Janice and asked, "Isn't there anyone, a relative or someone who the girls would know and feel more secure with at this time? I'm sure that Emily would appreciate Lindsey coming to town to help, but these are her girls that we're talking about."

Janice began, "I'm really not at liberty to..."

Lindsey held up a hand to stop her, "I appreciate your heartfelt concern for Megan and Annie. I really do. I am realizing that Emily and I keeping so much of our friendship private has left many with the belief that we weren't as close as we actually were. Rest assured, there is no one on this Earth who knows those girls as well as I do, and they know me just as well."

"How?" Marly asked suspiciously. "You haven't been here for almost twenty years."

Lindsey retorted, "That you know of. If you were to ask the girls when the last time was that they saw me before this week, they would tell you honestly that it was their first day of school a few weeks back. I have been here for their first day of school since Megan started Kindergarten. Ask them when the last time that we all spoke was, and they would tell you, last Sunday on our regularly scheduled weekly video call. If you were to ask them what they did over the summer, their answer would include the two weeks that they and their mother spent with me on Cape Cod.

"I have seen every report card that the girls have ever received, viewed every picture that they have ever drawn or painted, attended every major school event, taken them trick-or-treating with their mother every Halloween, and shared most major holidays with them at their house. Just because Emily and I kept the times that I spent with her and the girls private between us, doesn't mean that they never happened."

Janice was nodding vigorously before adding, "I was just as surprised as you to learn how connected that Emily and Lindsey had remained over the years, but Emily's final wishes reflect the reality of this in living color. The girls know and adore Lindsey as the aunt that they have always considered her to be to them."

The twin sisters shared a look before Marly said, "We apologize. As you said, we didn't know, and simply had the best interests of Emily's girls in mind. Now, as far as whether or not you should bring them to the celebration of their mother's life tomorrow, my recommendation would be to wait and see how they do at the memorial service before deciding. I can't think of anyone who would be at the celebration who wasn't first at the memorial service, so most of the condolences and expressions of sympathy that the girls would experience will likely be gotten out of the way there."

Karly nodded in agreement, and added, "If they are feeling overwhelmed at the celebration, we can ask our brother to include them when he takes our own kids to pick apples tomorrow. That will get them away from everything."

Lindsey lit up, "Picking apples? They would want to do that regardless of how the celebration was received by either of them. Can you go ahead and ask your brother to include them?"

Karly rose from her seat at the table and was joined by her sister. She smirked, "We'll do that on the drive home. It will give us a chance to pull his tail again by calling him at work."

Marly interjected as she stepped around the table, "By the way, Janice, what does Emily's death being ruled a homicide mean for her estate and the probate of it?"

Lindsey and Janice had risen to hug the twins goodbye. Knowing that Lindsey wouldn't want her involvement beyond caring for Emily's daughters to be discussed, Janice replied, "I'm not really sure yet. I've never had a case where the probate process involved a person whose death had been ruled a homicide. I'm just going to proceed as normal and deal with things as they come up."

"Well," Marley said, "At some point you will need to get Emily's house appraised so that you can report the value to the probate court. I'll make sure that Dave knows to jump when you tell him to."

"Maybe we can find time tomorrow for us to discuss it," Janice offered.

Lindsey stayed out of the conversation, but she knew that Janice would not forget how the assistance her friendship with Karly and Marly had benefited them, and would repay this by using Dave Rennert, Marley's husband for the appraisal of Emily's house when the time came.

The house had already been discussed that morning between Lindsey and Janice, and in particular, the outstanding mortgage balance and how to handle that. Emily hadn't been paying the mortgage since her divorce because it had been the responsibility of her ex-husband to pay it. Consequently, Janice wasn't aware of the current mortgage balance. But knowing what it had been at the time of the divorce, she and Lindsey did some calculations and guessed that it was likely between four-hundred and five-hundred thousand dollars.

Chet Evers would remain legally responsible for paying the mortgage until Annie turned eighteen, but did they want him to? On one hand, Lindsey could have easily paid off the mortgage to eliminate one more tie between Chet and the girls, but doing so would let the bastard off the hook and allow him to benefit financially from Emily's death. Lindsey thought that she knew how her friend would have felt about that.

Emily had arranged for the monthly child support payments that the court had insisted that Chet Bethel pay to be routed to the same educational trust that held the shares of the carpet mill business. Lindsey could likely do the same thing with the mortgage payments, except that those were being made directly to the mortgage company. She would discuss this with Janice.

After returning the hugs from Marly and Karly, Lindsey and Janice retook their seats at the table. There were now a few other matters that they wanted to discuss.

~~~

"Judge, your four o'clock appointment is here."

Paul looked up to see Connie's head poking through the crack in his office door. He asked, "I have a four o'clock appointment? Since when?"

Connie smirked, "Since around three fifty-seven. I made an executive decision and put it on your calendar. Oh, and if you're not done by the time I leave, have a good weekend."

Grinning at Connie's purposeful yet playful insolence, Paul instructed, "Send them in."

Connie stepped back and ushered two men past her into the judge's chambers before closing the door behind them. The two men both produced badges and introduced themselves.

"I'm Special Agent Ramsey," said the first.

"I'm Special Agent McConnell," said the second.

Recognizing the badges, Paul simply nodded and pointed to the seats across his desk from where he sat before inquiring, "What can I do for the Georgia Bureau of Investigation?"

The two agents took seats, and Ramsey assumed the lead, "Your Honor, we're here in reference to a case that we are investigating. It's a homicide case where we have identified that the victim went through a divorce a few years back, but our attempts to review the details of the divorce proceedings are being thwarted by the case being sealed. We were hoping that you could shed some light on why that might be."

Paul nodded, "And you think that the divorce case might hold some relevance to your current investigation?"

"We have no way of knowing until we get a chance to review the transcripts and any case notes," McConnell replied. "It may sound cliché, but when someone gets murdered, any spouse, or in this case, ex-spouse, needs to be looked into."

"I understand," Paul said. "Do you happen to have the case record number handy?"

As Ramsey read off the docket number, Paul entered it into his computer. The agents saw the judge raise his eyebrows and leaned forward in their seats. They asked in unison, "Did you find the files?"

"Bethel versus Bethel," Paul announced. "You're investigating the murder of Emily Bethel?"

"Did you know her?" Ramsey asked.

Shaking his head, Paul explained, "I knew of her. My sisters were classmates of hers and are organizing a celebration of life cookout for her tomorrow. Earlier this week, I had questioned why the name Bethel sounded familiar and recalled their divorce. I wasn't involved in the case, but I do remember how frustrated the judge who did handle it got at times while presiding over it."

McConnell asked, "Aren't divorce cases typically public record? Can you identify why the records on this one were sealed?"

"Divorce decrees are public record," Paul explained. "It isn't uncommon for the transcript of the proceedings to be sealed by the presiding judge if he or she feels it is warranted for whatever reason. Give me a few minutes to review things, and I'll see if I can figure out the reasoning in this case."

The two agents sat patiently for five minutes before Paul looked away from his computer and addressed them again, "I don't like to second-guess another judge, or play Monday Morning Quarterback unless the judge's decision is before me on an appeal. That being said, Judge Taylor, who presided over this divorce case apparently accepted the defendant's claim that certain facts presented in the divorce proceedings would be prejudicial to the pending civil cases that the defendant was facing in Magistrate's Court. That is why he agreed to seal the file."

"I take it from your tone that you don't agree with his decision," observed McConnell.

Paul shrugged, "There may have been factors that I am unaware of, so I can't agree or disagree. I can tell you that after all these years, any justification for sealing the files is probably non-existent now."

Ramsey sat forward again, "Does that mean that you will unseal them for us?"

Shaking his head, Paul explained, "No, what it means is that if a motion was filed with this court by the GBI, requesting that the files be unsealed, it would likely be granted. I can see no reason why it wouldn't, but the original defendant, Charles Bethel, would have the right to challenge your motion and argue against unsealing the files. That is the process that the GBI will need to follow."

"How long will that process take?" asked Ramsey.

Shrugging once more, Paul said, "I imagine that your legal team could have the motion prepared and filed within hours on Monday morning. Depending on when it gets filed with the clerk of the court will determine how soon it gets onto the docket for a hearing. The GBI would then need to serve the defendant, giving them notice of the motion and the date of the hearing. Assuming no delays or counter motions by the defendant, you could probably get the matter before the court within a couple of weeks."

"Crap," muttered McConnell.

Ramsey took a different direction with his next question, "Your Honor, can you enlighten us on your conversation on Wednesday with Captain Dwight Brown?"

If Paul was surprised by the agents being aware of his conversation with the Post 43 commander, he didn't show it. He simply asked in a friendly tone, "What would you like to know?"

"Let's start with why you made the call," said Ramsey. "You obviously knew about the accident in which Emily Bethel died. What was your interest in the case on Wednesday?"

"It's simple," Paul explained. "I had been asked to sign an order for the coroner to issue a preliminary death certificate for Emily Bethel, so I wanted reassurance that such an order was justified and not just the impatient desires of some attorney. Captain Brown provided that."

McConnell asked, "And you say that you did not know Emily Bethel personally?

"Nope," Paul confirmed. "Although, I am beginning to think that I am probably the only person within a hundred miles who didn't know her."

"Why do you say that?" probed Ramsey.

Paul chuckled, "Because based upon what I have learned about her since her death and the number of people that my sisters tell me that will be attending the celebration of life cookout tomorrow, Emily Bethel was known and loved by everyone who did know her. If I remember how it was described to me, the only sin that Emily Bethel ever committed was being dumb enough to marry Charles Bethel."

McConnell asked, "What about Charles Bethel? Do you know him, personally or professionally?"

"I meet a lot of people when campaigning," Paul admitted. "So, I can't truthfully say that I have never met him. I can say that his name means nothing to me beyond the divorce case that I just reviewed for you, and now as the ex-husband of the victim in your investigation."

Both agents rose at the same time, but it was McConnell who spoke, "We thank you for your time, Your Honor. We'll leave the matter of getting the divorce case unsealed in the hands of our legal team. Have a nice weekend."

Watching the men leaving his office, Paul wondered to himself how Ariel Brenner would react to a motion to unseal the divorce case of her client. She hadn't been a party to the case since she had just recently accepted Charles Bethel as a client. Out of curiosity, Paul reopened the case to see who had represented the defense in the trial.

Adam Wyatt. The first attorney that Paul had hired for the Atlanta offices of Eddy Law, and the current managing partner.

Chapter Four

"Mrs. Evers?"

Janice turned and retorted, "It's 'Miss'."

Special Agent McConnell blushed as he presented his credentials for Janice to see. He should have led with 'Miss', since even dressed in black, this woman, reported to be the lawyer handling the estate of Emily Bethel looked like a high school cheerleader.

McConnell recovered and said, "My apologies, Miss Evers. May we have a moment of your time?"

Janice's irritability was evident, "If you call my office on Monday morning, I'm sure that my assistant will be able to find time in my schedule for the GBI. This is neither the time nor the place."

"The audacity!" Janice thought. "These GBI goons are attempting to interview someone at a freaking memorial service for a woman who had just died."

McConnell's partner stepped up, holding his own credentials, and said, "I'm afraid this can't wait until Monday, Counselor. We have a warrant to search the home of one Emily Bethel and we have been informed that you are the person who could facilitate that search."

Janice barked, "Show me this warrant."

McConnell silently handed over the folded document.

Janice only glanced at it for a second before thrusting it back at the agent and snarling, "Can't you read? The warrant clearly states that it is to be executed no earlier than October 26^th. Today is Saturday, the 24^th, and you're interrupting a solemn memorial service with no justification. Please leave."

McConnell was not to be so easily dissuaded, "We're sure that the judge who signed the warrant was simply displaying respect for our schedule and assuming that we would not be prepared to execute the warrant until Monday. Well, we, along with four Murray County deputies, are prepared, and we expect your cooperation, Miss Counselor, in carrying out the warrant today."

"Is that right?" Janice snapped. "Well, I don't see Judge Roane here today, so we can't ask her personally what she did or didn't respect related to your schedule. However, I do see Judge Eddy over there, so why don't we go and get his opinion on this?"

Speaking with less confidence than he felt, McConnell acquiesced, "Let's do that."

Janice quickly glanced around the chapel to see where Lindsey and Emily's two girls were at the moment. She spotted them still at the head of the room, near the podium, receiving condolences from several of the people who had attended the memorial service. Lindsey had a hand on one shoulder of each girl, poised to react to anything that someone said which might upset one or both of them.

Judge Eddy was standing near the exit, warmly greeting people and shaking hands as they departed the service. Janice caught his eye, held up her pointer finger and received a nod from the judge in response. She took that as his approval to approach.

Paul smiled at the sight of Janice Evers. He assumed that it wasn't her intention for the dress that she had chosen for this period of mourning to look as sexy on her as it did, but he also couldn't imagine any dress not looking spectacular on her. From where he could tell that the eyes of the two GBI agents were focused, Paul knew that Janice looked as good in the dress from the back as she did from the front.

"Counselor," is all the greeting that Paul offered as the trio stepped before him.

"Your Honor," Janice warmly said. "I am sorry to bother you here, but these gentlemen seem to be in urgent need of a legal decision where their warrant is concerned. Would you mind taking a look at it really quick?"

In reply, Paul simply extended his right hand. Neither GBI agent said anything as McConnell handed the once more folded document to the judge.

Unfolding the pages, Paul asked Janice, "I assume that your position on this differs from that of the GBI. Would you care to enlighten me?"

Janice stood straighter and began, "Yes, Your Honor. I will begin by objecting to the service of the warrant being done as it was, here at the memorial service for the deceased. That is disrespectful, cruel, and totally unjustified. There is no compelling reason why it couldn't have been served elsewhere and at a more appropriate time..."

Looking into the eyes of the GBI agents, Paul said, with disappointment obvious, "I couldn't agree more. Gentlemen, please explain yourselves."

Ramsey's determined response was, "Your Honor, as you know, we have an active homicide investigation where every piece of evidence could be time-critical..."

Raising a hand to stop the agent, Paul castigated, "The scope of this warrant does not appear to me to include anything of a time-sensitive nature. You are seeking documents, photographs, and digital content that might hold relevance to the victim being a target for murder. If you have some belief that you taking possession of these items before Monday is necessary to protect them, you obviously didn't make that point with Judge Roane."

McConnell began to protest but Paul cut him off, "As I mentioned to you both in my office yesterday, I don't like to second-guess another judge. I won't do that here. The warrant may not be executed until the time and date approved by the court."

Ramsey tried another approach, "Your Honor, can we at least request that the house be sealed until the warrant can be executed?"

"I object, Your Honor," Janice exclaimed. "The house in question is the home for two little girls already devastated by the death of their mother. While they are not presently residing in the house, there is no court order prohibiting them from doing so. All of their clothes and personal effects not currently with them are in that house. There is no justification for the GBI to deny them full and unfettered access to their home."

Focusing his stare once more on the agents, Paul asked, "Gentlemen, do you harbor some suspicions that the young ladies who have every legal right to reside in their home will somehow tamper with or destroy any potential evidence? Can you elaborate on any risks associated with not sealing the house until Monday?"

Ramsey tried to rebut, "Your Honor, the evidentiary value of anything that we find is jeopardized by the more people who had access to it prior to us taking it into our possession..."

"That argument might carry some weight with me if you had requested your warrant five days ago," Paul countered. "The house has been unsealed and accessible to anyone welcomed into it since Monday. I realize that this was not your fault, but the same evidentiary challenge created by that will apply by waiting until Monday for the search to be executed. Furthermore, your search is related to information on the deceased as a victim, not a suspect in any crime. Your request to seal the house is denied. Is there anything else?"

McConnell and Ramsey replied in unison, "No, Your Honor."

Before the agents could walk away, Paul stopped them, "Gentlemen, Monday is a school day, so I would consider it a personal favor if you refrained from executing your search until after the school day has begun, say 9 a.m. Even if the girls who live in the house are not there, it is likely that other children of their approximate age live near them and would witness your presence if the search was conducted before they were in school, and possibly mention it to the girls at some point. Please be as discreet and respectful as possible. That's all I'm asking."

"I also need to be present," admonished Janice. "I will need to document anything taken out of the house for the probate court."

Smiling at Janice, Paul said, "That goes without saying. Correct, gentlemen?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Oh, and gentlemen," Paul further reprimanded, "I truly appreciate your dedication and drive to solve this case. What I don't appreciate is the lack of professionalism displayed by your appearance at a memorial service for the deceased. This was totally uncalled for. Please be more considerate in the future and I won't mention this to your supervisor. Have a good day."

Janice remained standing beside Paul as they both watched the GBI agents leave the chapel. Never wanting to remain too close to the temptation that was Janice Evers' body, Paul excused himself and went in search of his sisters. Janice went to be with Lindsey and the girls.

Approaching his two sisters as they were giving directions to the cookout to several people, Paul waited for them to finish before speaking, "I need to head to the orchard to meet an irrigation technician. The Fujis are drying out due to an issue with their water source. Can one of you bring the kids by, and then I can bring them back after we're done with the picking?"

Marly asked, "Shouldn't all the Fujis be picked already?"

Paul snorted, "Hell, we've still got hundreds of Granny Smiths on the trees. Those are what I am going to have the kids focus on today. The Fujis seem to be ripening late due to the lack of water. I need to get that resolved today or it might be too late for them this season."

"You go ahead," Karly said. "We'll have Dave or Matt bring the kids over right after we feed them lunch. By the way, would you mind having a couple more kids today? Emily Bethel's daughters have said that they want to pick some apples and it might be a good diversion for them instead of hanging around the cookout."

"I would love to have them," Paul assured his sister. "I'm going to head out now. I'll call you before bringing the kids back."

Each sister kissed their brother's cheek before he left. Marly then said, "I guess we should let Lindsey know the plan."

Karly laughed, "Not either of our husbands though?"

"That best wait for as long as possible," Marly said. "Georgia's game against Auburn isn't on TV until five today, but the Alabama versus Tennessee game comes on at noon. Maybe you and I should flip a coin to see who has to promise to give a blow job later in payment for their husband missing part of the game when they take the kids to pick apples."

~~~

"So, it might have actually been a good thing that you neglected to tell me your plans," Janice stated.

She had finally found an opportunity at the celebration of life event to get Lindsey aside to tell her about the search warrant and what had transpired at the memorial service. This explanation had come more than an hour after the photo albums that Lindsey had taken from Emily's house had been passed around for the crowd to examine.

The concerns that Marly and Karly had expressed during their lunch yesterday had haunted Lindsey. She had decided that showing attendees at the celebration all the photos that depicted the familiarity between Emily's daughters and herself would help to mitigate anyone else having the same concerns that the twins had verbalized. She had been correct.

"If the albums are back in the house before Monday morning, there shouldn't be any issues, right?" Lindsey surmised.

Janice shook her head, "No, and everyone here can attest to the albums only having pictures of you, Emily, and the girls. I didn't see one single photo that included another person."

Lindsey offered, "These albums are exact copies of the ones that I have at my house, so if anyone wants proof, they can compare them."

"Well, I'm glad that you thought to bring them. I'll tell you, there are definitely more people here than were at the service," Janice stated.

Lindsey nodded, "I know that a lot of the people brought dishes to contribute to the food, but I want to reimburse Karly, and especially Marly, for what they have spent on this."

Snorting, Janice said, "Good luck with that. I know those two and they won't accept any hint of someone reimbursing them for this."

Lindsey winked, "Let's see them each turn down an anonymous gift of a hot tub. I overheard Marly saying how nice it would be if they had one to relax in after the celebration. I can't get them one that fast, but by the end of the week, both sisters will have one installed and operational."

"That might work," Janice teased. "They'll drive me crazy trying to see if I knew who arranged the gifts, but lawyer-client confidentiality should prevent me from revealing anything, especially if a new hot tub showed up at my house as well."

Laughing, Lindsey said, "I tell you what, help me think of a suitable gift for their older brother, the judge, for all that he has done, and there just might be a new hot tub in your future too."

'That's easy," Janice said with a blush. "You can give him me. I have done everything but tackle him to the ground and molest him to show my interest, yet he continues to play it cool and professional between us. Have you seen him? God, he's something."

Shrugging, Lindsey said, "I only have the image of some patrician, middle-aged man with silver hair and a grandfatherly countenance in my mind. You know the casting couch version of the stereotypical judge. Are you saying that this isn't him?"

Shocked, Janice replied, "You really haven't seen him! You also apparently don't know that he is only four years older than the twins, who are the same age as us. Wipe that image out of your head and replace it with someone well over six feet tall, the most penetrating grey eyes, a smile that will melt panties, and the physique of a decathlon gold medalist."

"Well," Lindsey teased, "if I ever meet him, I'll put in a good word for you.

"Aunt Lin! Aunt Lin!"

Lindsey tried not to laugh when she turned and saw Megan and Annie struggling with a bushel basket full of apples that they carried between them.

"Stop right there, girls," she instructed. "The car is in the other direction. You need to carry those apples to the car if you intend to take them home with us to make cobbler instead of feeding them to everyone here. Come on, I'll help you."

Janice joined Lindsey in helping to carry the bushel basket to her car. As soon as they had placed it into the trunk, Megan asked, "Can we go play on Jessica's trampoline with her and Davy?"

Lindsey glanced around at the different groups of people, trying to locate anyone who might be the man that Janice had described as the judge, but didn't see anyone who looked remotely like her perception of him. She wanted to thank him for all the consideration that he had shown over the past few days.

"Okay," she finally told Megan. "Keep an eye on Annie, though."

Janice started walking back towards the house, saying over her shoulder, "I'm going to visit the little girls' room. I'll find you when I'm done."

Waving dismissively, Lindsey decided to go ahead and get her sunglasses while she was at her car. After donning them, she checked her reflection in the car window and noticed something behind her for the first time.

Along the street, a few yards from the driveway to the house, was a three-foot by four-foot painted sign that read, "Nelson Landscape Design". For some reason, it had never registered with her that Karly's last name was Nelson, not that Nelson was that uncommon a name. Recognizing that now, she headed back towards the house.

Lindsey could see the kids jumping on a trampoline along the right side of the house, while she headed towards the left side and backyard, where the rest of the festivities were centered. Seeing Marly, Karly, and several of their guests standing around one of the folding tables, Lindsey made that her destination.

She had barely reached the table when her presence was realized. Beth Landers pointed to one of the photo albums on the table that several of the people had been studying and said, "We never realized how involved you had remained in Emily's life. Her passing must be so hard for you."

"Emily was like a sister to me," Lindsey admitted. "She will be missed more than anyone will ever know, but my job now is to take care of her girls. I want to thank you again, Beth, for stepping up like you did."

One of the men at the table, Lindsey believed his name was Floyd, said, "We have been discussing the creation of a GoFundMe account to help you with the girls. Maybe you could help us identify the goal that we would want to set for the donations."

Lindsey smiled warmly, and said, "I appreciate that, but finances are not going to be an issue where caring for Emily's girls is concerned. Emily made certain that they would be well taken care of."

Lynda Rennert, Marly's mother-in-law asked, "Does anyone know if Emily was seeing someone? Was there a man in her life that someone should attempt to notify?"

All eyes turned to Lindsey. She considered what she wanted to share with them, "Emily had her own life, her own plans for her and her girls, and she didn't need anyone else in her life to make her feel important. She always knew who she was. That being said, Emily had recently expressed an interest in some man who lived over near Ellijay, but she told me that she couldn't pursue anything with him yet because he worked for a client of hers. So, I don't think it had gotten too serious, at least not yet."

There were a few sudden gasps from those around the table. Karly began frantically looking around the yard before moaning, "Where is that husband of mine when I need him?"

When everyone continued to stare towards the street without answering her, Karly asked, "Does anyone know where Paul is?"

"He's with the kids at the trampoline," Beth informed her. "Do you want me to go get him?"

Before Karly could answer, Lindsey had turned around and seen what everyone else had already noticed. Without hesitating, she started for the other side of the house while bellowing, "No, I'll go get him."

Lindsey had little interest in anything other than getting to Megan and Annie. If she could let Paul know that his wife wanted him after gathering up the girls, she would do so. Her first priority was keeping the girls away from the new arrival, Chet Bethel.

Seeing Megan and Annie jumping on the trampoline together, Lindsey calmed slightly. The tall man with his back to her was applauding the girls and shouting encouragement to them. She headed towards him and began calling out, "Mr. Nelson! Mr. Nelson!"

She was practically close enough to touch the man and he hadn't responded to her cries of his name. Lindsey decided to try yelling, "Paul!"

He spun around so suddenly that Lindsey stumbled back and almost fell. His quick actions caught her and pulled her body against his. Wave after wave of familiarity washed over Lindsey as she experienced feelings that had lain dormant within her for over twenty-three years.

Silence prevailed when Megan and Annie quickly jumped down from the trampoline and the other kids stopped cheering. All the attention turned to the judge and the woman that he was suddenly holding in his arms.

He was older. No, Lindsey corrected herself, he was more mature. If anything, he appeared stronger, more present and assured than she remembered. Staring into those beautiful grey eyes again, the only words that Lindsey could muster were a barely audible, "You're him? Eddie?"

When her feet left the ground as she was lifted effortlessly by Paul, Lindsey giggled like the teenager she had suddenly reverted to and instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and settled her head onto his shoulder.

Holding her against his body with one arm, Paul reached over and gently lifted Lindsey's head away from his shoulder and pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head. Gazing into her now exposed blue eyes, he smilingly said, "Hello, Lin."

Their reunion was interrupted when Lindsey heard Megan's breath hitch as she said, "Aunt Lin, I think that's my dad coming towards us, and he looks mad."

Disentangling herself from around Paul, Lindsey turned to face Chet Bethel and saw that he was quickly approaching, accompanied by a deputy from the Whitfield County Sheriff's Office. Sensing Megan and Annie stepping beside her, Lindsey once more placed a protective hand on each girl's shoulder.

A crowd of guests from the celebration, led by Marly and Karly, was rushing to catch up, but they were almost twenty yards behind them by the time that Chet and the deputy stopped in front of Lindsey, Paul, and the kids who surrounded them.

Lindsey felt a slight sensation of breath on her right ear just before she heard a whispered, "I'll handle this. You can trust me."

Chet stood, trying to catch his breath as he studied, first the two girls that he vaguely recognized as his daughters, followed by the woman who stood between them. She, too, was vaguely familiar. He ignored Paul.

The deputy, whose name tag read "Mercer", knew better than to ignore the Chief Judge of the district court. He nervously said, "Good afternoon, Judge."

Paul's reply was professional but still curt, "Good afternoon. What's going on, Deputy Mercer? You're a bit out of your jurisdiction, aren't you?"

The deputy stammered, "Your Honor, Mr. Bethel here has requested the assistance of our department in regaining custody of his daughters following the death of their mother."

Paul merely nodded before asking, "May I see the court order?"

Chet snarled, "I don't need a court order. I am their biological father and now their sole parent. Custody was legally transferred to me upon their mother's death."

The deputy considered advising Chet against spouting legalese to a judge, but held his tongue.

"I certainly hope that wasn't legal advice that you received from Ariel Brenner," Paul chuckled.

The shock of learning that this man knew the name of his attorney didn't prevent Chet's face from reddening. He squared his shoulders and boasted, "It doesn't matter whether she gave me the advice or not. It's the law."

Paul frowned before replying, "Mr. Bethel, I strongly recommend that you consult with your attorney on this matter before you find yourself in jail, or worse. I have Ariel's cell phone number if you would like me to call her for you."

Chet sneered and addressed the deputy while pointing at Megan and Annie, "These two are my daughters. Let's just take them and go."

When Chet reached a hand out to try and take Megan's arm, it was kicked aside by Lindsey's right foot so fast that few saw it happen.

"Nice move," Paul muttered under his breath. "Please let me handle this."

Lindsey frowned up at Paul but nodded her head in acquiescence.

Paul stepped forward as he said, "Deputy, please escort Mr. Bethel back to his car with me. I'll explain things to both of you on the way."

Chet pulled his arm out of the grasp of the deputy and turned on Paul, "Listen, Asshole, I don't know who you are, but those are my daughters, and I am not leaving here without them in my custody!"

Janice Evers stepped up behind Chet and Deputy Mercer with a huge grin on her face. Restraining the laughs that the situation had bubbling up inside of her, she gloated, "Who he is is the judge most likely to preside over your motion seeking custody of Emily's daughters. Please continue to piss him off. Please."

Paul stared down at Chet and growled, "Mr. Bethel, unless you leave right now, the only custody issue being decided here today is yours. Does a charge of attempted parental kidnapping sound appropriate to you, Counselor?"

Too giddy to reply, Janice simply clapped her hands. She was soon joined by several others in applauding as Chet was forcefully escorted back to his car by the deputy, accompanied by the judge.

Janice stepped up to Lindsey, "Are you all okay?"

Annie pointed at the back of Chet Bethel walking away in the distance and said, "That is a mean man."

Megan was more emphatic, "Please tell me that we won't ever have to live with him. He still acts Luciferian."

"Where in the world have you heard that term?" an astonished Lindsey asked.

Meagan simply shrugged, "From Mommy."

Lindsey remembered conversations with Emily where her friend had frequently stated her reluctance to ever leave Megan alone with her father, Chet. There were never any specific suspicions, just a lack of confidence that the child would be properly supervised or cared for due to Chet's apparent lack of any conscience, his selfishness, and him being totally void of empathy towards anyone else.

"We won't let that happen," Lindsey assured the girls. "The Momma Bear and Eddie won't allow it."

"Grrr," growled both girls before giggling.

"Who's Eddie?" asked Janice.

Before Lindsey could reply, Annie giggled, "Aunt Lin got cozy with the judge."

Janice gasped, "Cozy? You and Paul?" She then teased, "You tart!"

Megan chimed in with her own dig, "I thought that you were picky about guys, Aunt Lin. You didn't seem too picky with the judge."

"Let it go, girls," Lindsey pleaded. "I didn't know that Eddie was a judge."

"Everyone around here knows that Paul Eddy is a judge," Janice admonished. "How do you know him and not know that he is a judge?"

Linsey sighed, "Because I haven't seen or spoken with him in, God, twenty-three years. I need to go find out what's going on. Girls, please wait here and I'll be right back."

Without waiting for a reply, Lindsey stepped through the crowd that still lingered around them and started walking in the direction of where she saw Eddie, or the man that everyone called, "Paul", standing between a sheriff's patrol car and another vehicle. She hadn't expected Janice to accompany her, but Lindsey didn't mind that she had.

Paul held his cell phone as if he had it on speaker mode, sharing a conversation between whoever was on the other end, Chet Bethel, and the deputy. The deputy no longer held Chet's arm, but he appeared poised to react to any sudden movements by the man.

As he saw Lindsey and Janice approaching, Paul said into his phone, "Hold on a second, Ariel."

Paul motioned both women closer to his phone. He then announced, "Janice, I have Mr. Bethel's attorney on the phone. Can you please introduce yourself and share the status of the probate hearing on the estate of Emily Bethel?"

Without hesitation. Janice leaned down and spoke towards the phone that Paul held in his hand, "My name is Janice Evers, and I am the estate attorney handling the probate of Emily Bethel's will. The petition for probate for the estate was filed yesterday, and I expect that a letter of administration will be signed on Monday. Allowing for the mandatory announcement period of thirty days, I would expect a probate hearing to be scheduled by the court in approximately forty-five days."

"Probating the will has no bearing on the matter of custody of the minor children," everyone heard Ariel Brenner declare from the speaker of Paul's cell phone. "

Paul was prepared to rebut Ariel, but decided to let Janice have a shot at it first when she explained, "In Georgia, as in most other states, when a parent dies, the focus shifts to guardianship rather than parental custody. If the deceased custodial parent had stated clear and specific instructions related to guardianship in their will that are not found by the probate court to be counter to the best interest of the child or children, that guardianship preference would typically supersede any relative custody claims."

"Counselor," Paul interjected, "Can you tell us if clear and specific instructions on guardianship of her children were stated in Emily Bethel's will?"

Janice nodded and leaned closer to the cell phone when she answered, "Yes, Your Honor. There were clear and specific instructions on who Emily wanted to be appointed guardian of her daughters. In addition, there were clear and specific desires stated as to who she absolutely did not want to have custody of her daughters."

Paul took the phone out of speaker mode and brought it to his ear before continuing, "So, that should make the current position of your client relative to custody perfectly clear to you, Ariel. His divorce decree gave sole custody of the minor children to his ex-wife. Her will does not grant him guardianship, let alone custody upon her death. Any further actions by your client to circumvent the legal process in attempting to gain custody of his daughters will result in his immediate incarceration. Please make certain that he understands and agrees to this reality. Good bye."

Lowering his phone, Paul addressed Lindsey, "I assume that you are the person named in Emily's will as her preferred guardian?"

Janice answered first, "Lindsey is named as the personal representative and administrator for Emily's estate and the preferred guardian for her daughters."

Chet Bethel turned and snarled, "I thought that I recognized you. Why am I not surprised that the bitch would name some dyke computer geek to take care of the girls? She probably wants to turn them into carpet munchers just like the two of you were with each other. I can't wait until my lawyers finally get your affair with my ex-wife before the court."

Before Lindsey could get to him, Chet hurriedly dove into his car and locked the doors. She did have the opportunity to flip him off through the driver-side window before he sped away. The deputy drove away right behind Chet, leaving Lindsey, Paul, and Janice standing at the curb.

Lindsey stepped beside Paul and reached for his hand. When he pulled it away and silently started walking towards the house, she looked at Janice for an explanation. There was none.

Chapter Five

Less than two minutes.

That had been the extent of Lindsey's brief time with Eddie before he had morphed into the authoritarian judge, Paul Eddy, followed by being the cordial but distant brother of Karly and Marly.

There had been true recognition and affection evident during those two minutes. Lindsey knew that. What she didn't know, and what she had been racking her brain over for the past three hours, was "What happened?"

Fortunately, neither Janice nor the girls had mentioned anything if they had noticed the difference in the interactions between Lindsey and the judge once they had returned to the celebration of life. Lindsey had watched Paul Eddy for the last two hours that she and the girls had remained at the event, and saw no difference in the way that he spoke to others, warmly embraced several other women, and joked around with many of the men.

Something had to have happened to change his attitude towards her alone, but what? When he had walked with the deputy and Chet back out to their cars, she had still felt the connection with him. When she and Janice had joined him at the curb, his eyes expressed his happiness at her presence. Even when he and Janice had been talking to Chet's attorney, Paul had frequently sought to keep his eyes on hers, and there was warmth evident in his gaze.

It wasn't until she had returned to Paul's side after flipping off the departing Chet Bethel that Lindsey had noticed a difference. That is when she had moved to take Paul's hand and he had pulled it away. Focusing her recollection on the moments just prior to Chet's departure, spoken words reappeared in her mind.

"Why am I not surprised that the bitch would name some dyke computer geek to take care of the girls. She probably wants to turn them into carpet munchers just like the two of you were with each other. I can't wait until my lawyers finally get your affair with my ex-wife before the court."

"No way!" Lindsey thought. There is no way that Paul or anyone else could believe that Emily Bethel and Lindsey Norris had been lesbian lovers. Could there? Is that what Paul thought, and why he suddenly started shunning her? The timing of Chet's words and Paul's change in demeanor were too closely associated to ignore that possibility.

While dressing for the reunion to be held in a couple of hours, Lindsey recalled once more the four weeks over that summer when she and Eddie had been inseparable, Lindsey knew that the physical attraction between a boy and a girl had been evident to them both. She knew that it definitely had been with her. Had he forgotten that, or assumed that she had been hiding her true self from him, or maybe not discovered her true self until later in life?

Lindsey did remember telling Eddie about Emily that summer. While their friendship had been only slightly longer than three years old at the time, both girls knew that each was the other's best friend for life. Lindsey had shared with Eddie how much she wished that he would get the chance to meet Emily because she wanted her best friend to see in him what she herself had seen.

Emily never got the chance since Lindsey and Eddie lost contact after the camp and he had soon moved away to attend college. The two friends had spent hours together trying to figure out if Emily might know Eddie from somewhere around the small town, but they never identified any meeting between them with certainty.

If Emily had met Eddie, or Paul, as she would have likely known him, at some point since that summer, she had obviously never made the connection between him and the boy that Lindsey had described to her in so much detail.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the front door of the cabin. Glancing at the clock, Lindsey saw that it was almost five-thirty, which meant the knock was likely Beth Landers coming by to pick up Megan and Annie. Beth had offered to let the girls spend the night at her house so that Lindsey would be able to enjoy the reunion without worrying about them.

"Megan, Annie, Beth is here," Lindsey hollered down the hall from her bedroom. "Can you let her in and get all of your things ready to go?"

She didn't hear a reply, but she did hear the girls scurrying out of their rooms and one of them opening the front door to greet Beth and let her in. Donning her robe, Lindsey headed for the front room to greet Beth and make certain that the girls were properly prepared for their sleepover.

Megan and Annie appeared anxious to leave, likely because of Beth's promise to let them help her with the homemade pizza planned for their dinner. The girls both had their backpacks on as they each ran to Lindsey and gave her a hug.

"You didn't pack your clothes for church tomorrow, right?" Lindsey asked them. She had planned to bring their dresses with her when she came over to Beth's in the morning so that they wouldn't get wrinkled in the girls' backpacks.

"Our dresses and shoes are laid out on our beds like you asked us to do," Megan assured Lindsey, and Annie just nodded in agreement.

"This envelope was taped to your front door," Beth said as she handed it to Lindsey.

The standard-size letter envelope was sealed and only had one word written on the outside of it, "Lin."

Lindsey was curious, but decided to wait until the girls had left before opening it. Megan and Annie wanted to see what was inside the envelope, but Lindsey and Beth shooed them out of the cabin without it being opened.

Standing on the front porch to watch Beth's car turn onto the road into town, Lindsey contemplated the envelope in her hand. Other than it having her name printed on it, the envelope was entirely unremarkable. She carried it with her back to her bedroom where she needed to finish getting dressed.

Using a nail file on the bathroom counter as a letter opener, Lindsey sliced open the top of the envelope to reveal the single sheet of paper folded inside. Removing it, she slowly unfolded it, turned it right-side-up, and read the extremely brief message, "I'll see you tonight. You can trust me."

~~~

"I imagine that you have some questions," came the voice on her left side.

Lindsey didn't turn, but remained focused on the sunset on the horizon visible from the large windows in the ballroom where the reunion was being held. She was nursing her glass of wine and contemplating just how sociable she wanted to be tonight.

Bemused at the recognized voice, she replied, "Let's start with what name I should call you by. I've only ever known you as 'Eddie', but apparently, I'm the only one who has."

Snorting, Paul said, "Ah, yes, the misadventures of camp counseling. The camp wanted all the counselors to be referred to by our last names by the campers as a sign of respect. Whoever embroidered my last name on my shirts decided to take artistic license with the spelling. You can call me anything you want."

Finally turning to glance his way, Lindsey saw that Paul was leaning against one of the pillars, typing on his cell phone. He had been surreptitiously conversing with her as if he didn't want anyone to recognize that they were talking to each other.

"Was he so bothered about what Chet Bethel had said about her that he doesn't want anyone to know that he even knows her?"

Glancing out the window once again, Lindsey spoke slightly louder than a whisper, "Emily and I were not lovers. We were best friends; we were closer than sisters, and Chet was always jealous of that."

His voice was so low that Lindsey barely heard Paul speaking over the cacophony of party conversation, "Not that it would matter, but I do know that. What does matter is the problem associated with us being viewed by people as more than casual acquaintances."

"I've missed you," Lindsey whispered. She wasn't certain that he could hear her.

Straining over the increasing noise in the ballroom, Lindsey heard Paul say, "Me too, you. I am going to go find a couple of unattached women to dance with. Then, I'll come find you and we can chat while we dance."

Before Paul could walk away, Lindsey asked, "Wait. What are you doing here? You graduated four years before us?"

Leaning close enough to be heard over the music that had started playing, Paul explained, "I am president of the Alumni Association. I'll be back. You can trust me."

Nodding, Lindsey turned back towards the window. She felt that she could literally sense the distance between them growing as Paul walked away.

What had he meant by them not being viewed as more than casual acquaintances? Why would how people viewed them be a concern for him? Maybe he had a wife, girlfriend, or someone else in his life who would not take his being seen with her as appropriate?

Lindsey almost smacked her forehead over her stupidity. She had the perfect resource, or resources, to learn everything that she wanted to know about Paul. Turning and quickly scanning the room, she saw Karly dancing with her husband, Matt.

"Not bad," she thought when appraising the looks of Matt Nelson. But certainly not anyone that a person would mistake for being Paul Eddy.

Ignoring them for the moment, Lindsey kept surveying the room until she spotted Marly talking to a couple of other classmates near the open bar. Perfect.

Since she already had a glass of wine in her hand, Lindsey used the need for a bar napkin as her ruse for approaching the bar. As she had hoped, Marly spotted her and broke away from her conversation to step up to Lindsey and hug her.

"We're glad that you decided to come," Marly happily stated. "From the way it sounded at lunch yesterday, you were non-committal."

Lindsey shrugged, "I knew that my attending is what Emily would have wanted. I just wish that she was here with us, especially after all the work that she put into organizing everything."

Two of their female classmates moved over to the bar to join them. Marly said, "Lindsey, you remember Lynda and Faith. They worked on the reunion committee with Emily."

"Of course," Lindsey said, giving a small hug to each. "It's good to see you again."

Lindsey was momentarily distracted when the song that had been playing stopped, and she found herself searching the floor to see where Paul was. She found him speaking with a voluptuous red-headed woman wearing considerably more make-up than her face was designed to hold. As the next song started, Paul took the woman's hand and led her onto the dance floor.

She returned her attention back to the ladies around her in time to hear Lynda ask, "Why haven't you attended any reunions before this one, Lindsey? You were one of the most popular girls in school, and we have all been dying to catch up with you and learn about your life since high school. You attended M.I.T., didn't you?"

"Yes," Lindsey admitted. "My career kept me extremely busy and my life had become so detached from what it had been here that I allowed Emily and her girls to become my only connection with this place and the people here. I hope to expand on that, so I decided to attend the reunion, both to honor Emily, and also reconnect with people who I have not seen for years, such as all of you."

"So, are you married?" Faith asked. "Do you have any kids?"

Lindsey understood that these questions were not intended to be as intrusive as she perceived them to be. People at reunions such as this expected others to be open about sharing most aspects of their lives, otherwise, why attend? She still didn't plan on being too open.

"No, I have never been married or had any children," she admitted, and left it there.

Lynda snorted at Faith, "Geez, I could have told you that. Just look at her body, for Christ's sake. It's obvious that someone who looks as good as her has never been pregnant."

Her desire to refute Lynda's cruel and insensitive comment was stymied by a touch on her shoulder. Lindsey turned to see Paul Eddy smiling at her.

"Excuse me ladies," he said apologetically before addressing Lindsey, "Miss Norris, would you honor me with a dance?"

Having comprehended Paul's intentions from his earlier comments, Lindsey decided to add a touch of her own subterfuge, when she held up her nearly empty wine glass for him to see, and said, "Please ask me again in a few minutes."

Paul's grin paled compared to the laughter that Lindsey saw in his eyes when he said, "Of course, but please don't make a poor man beg."

Lightly patting Paul's forearm, Lindsey cooed teasingly, "A dance is not what I make a man beg for, Mr. Eddy. Trust me."

Turning to look at Lynda and Faith, Paul asked, "Would either of you ladies care to dance?"

"What about me?" Marly wailed.

"You know that won't work," Paul teased. "If I danced with you, I would then have to dance with Karly, which would then make Matt believe that he was free to dance with someone other than his wife. His making some guy's wife cry from the abuse of him stomping on her feet would just wind up causing a fight again."

Marly stuck her tongue out at her brother as Faith told Lynda, "You go ahead. I need to check on my husband in the clubhouse bar. If I don't pop in every once in a while, he'll forget that I'm here and drive home without me."

Lindsey had noticed the disproportionate number of women at the reunion compared to men. When she asked about it, she had been told that many of the husbands of female classmates would likely spend most of the evening in the bar here at the country club watching the University of Georgia football game. She assumed that Faith's husband was one of those.

Watching Paul escort Lynda out onto the floor and Faith heading towards the exit, Lindsey saw her opportunity. Stepping closer to Marly, she queried, "Didn't your brother bring his wife here tonight?"

Marly laughed, "Ha! My brother is a confirmed bachelor if there ever was one."

"Ah," Lindsey said. "So, the local Lothario has asked me to dance. Should I be concerned about my virtue?"

Marky snorted, "Not as long as you are registered to vote in Whitfield or Murray County. Apparently, the fear of losing a woman's vote precludes Paul from wanting to date them. We haven't known him to date anyone local since he returned here from California. There may be a few women down in Atlanta that he sees from time to time, but he never mentions it."

Finishing her wine and setting the empty glass onto the bar, Lindsey teased, "That doesn't sound like a stellar prediction of his skill as a lover. I mean, if he is afraid of losing a woman's vote after dating them, maybe I should order another glass of wine and delay any dance with him for as long as possible."

Marly replied irritably, "Maybe you should get shit-faced drunk and leave my brother alone entirely."

Before Lindsey could apologize and explain that she had just been teasing, Marly stormed off across the room. She was intercepted by her brother as he was heading back towards the bar. The two conversed for a few seconds, ending with Paul chuckling and patting his sister on the head before continuing towards the spot where Lindsey stood watching his approach.

"Oh, you're good," Paul said with a smile when he stopped and stood beside Lindsey. "You really yanked Marly's tail. Right now, she's probably telling Karly how wrong for me you are, and that their plans to set us up were a waste."

"Your sisters were planning to set us up?" Lindsey asked. "Marly just told me that you don't date local women."

Paul didn't contradict Lindsey's statement, "Technically, you're not local anymore. Or, at least not again, yet. You are a visitor here for an undetermined period of time. Their belief that voter registration is my sole determining factor in who I date would make you a matchmaking option that they couldn't resist."

Lindsey scoffed, "Well, I haven't had any interest in dating, regardless of a man's voter registration status, for quite some time. Why should my interest suddenly get piqued by you?"

"I don't recall you being quite so sassy all those years ago," Paul softly chortled as he pointed at her empty wine glass. "Can I claim that raincheck now?"

Their conversation, if overheard by others at the bar as they both suspected, would present them as virtual strangers with little history at all. This is what Paul had hinted that his objective was with his earlier actions, and what Lindsey had been trying to reinforce through her own words and actions.

Their being close together on the dance floor should enable them to communicate more freely with each other. And, since Paul had been dancing with numerous women before Lindsey, their dancing now should not spark any rumors about them.

Extending her hand, Lindsey silently let Paul lead her out onto the dance floor. The DJ had just started a new song, an instrumental of the popular Vince Gill hit, "Look at Us". That selection, when added to all the other tunes that Lindsey had heard playing that evening, convinced her that Emily had personally chosen the music to be played at the reunion.

Emily had always favored ballads, and the more sentimental the lyrics, the more she liked them. Lindsey remembered the hours spent in Emily's room or in her car with John Denver, Reba McEntire, Vince Gill, or some other popular ballad singer's song playing softly in the background.

Paul had steered them over to the periphery of those dancing, close to the doors leading out onto the patio area and the pool beyond. The music was more muted in this area, and fewer people danced near them.

Speaking up at Paul as he gracefully moved them in unison to the tempo of the song, Lindsey softly said, "You want people to view us as mere acquaintances. The reality is that this is exactly what we are at this point."

Paul leaned down to rest his forehead on Lindsey's as he breathed, "What you are to me is a remembrance. A part of my life that holds a unique place shared with none other. That compromises me where you are concerned."

Pulling back so that she could look into his eyes, Lindsey contemplated Paul's words at the same time that she recognized that her "Eddie" was once again evident to her in his look. Were his words a confession of some sort that he still harbored feelings for her from that summer so many years ago? He had to realize that she - that they both had changed so much since then. Or, had they? It hadn't felt like it to her at the cookout when she realized who he was. It had been just her and her "Eddie", once more together.

Obviously, they had both matured and experienced things in life that would almost certainly make them different than what they had been when they had known each other before. The fact was, they were truly strangers to each other now, tied only to the memories of a short summer fling, if it could even be called that.

Curious about his comment, Lindsey finally asked, "What do you mean by you being compromised?"

Paul was silent for so long that the song that they had been dancing to ended and another had begun. The tempo was slightly faster, but as a couple, they never missed a beat. He once more made sure that they were as separated from other dancers as possible before answering Lindsey.

"Learning that you have been named as Emily Bethel's personal representative with regard to her estate, as well as the preferred guardian for her daughters compromises me," Paul explained. "There is little chance that I won't have at least some peripheral exposure to the custody case involving her daughters and possibly even the probate of her estate if that judge's decision gets appealed."

Lindsey's reply was challenging, "Surely you have handled cases where you knew one or more of the parties involved. How is you knowing me any different?"

Waiting for another couple to move who had wandered too close to them, Paul eventually said, "The difference is that I know you in my heart. I have an historical connection to you. It could influence any decisions that I make because of the relationship that we once shared."

"Oh, I'm sure that..." Lindsey began before Paul interrupted her.

"The bigger challenge is, that from the instant that we reconnected this afternoon, I wasn't satisfied with only knowing you in my past. I want to know you in my present. I want to know you in my future. We can't openly do that and have me be viewed as impartial where any cases involving you are concerned."

A phrase came to Lindsey's mind, that, while she couldn't remember the source, she knew it now applied to her where Paul Eddy was concerned, "The delight of my present, the hope of my future".

She whispered up at him, "I want to know you too. So, what do we do? We can't just dance together any time that we want to be close enough to talk without others hearing us."

Paul pulled her body tighter against his as they continued dancing and said, "I am going to leave here in a few minutes. When you get back to the cabin that you are renting, flip up the rightmost switch on the group of three just inside the back door. That will signal to me that you are home and I will come over so that we can talk more in private."

Mystified at his response, Lindsey asked, "How do you know where I am staying?"

As the music stopped, Paul leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I could leave here with you thinking that I am omniscient, but the truth is, Megan and Annie pointed out where you all were staying when I brought them to the orchard to pick apples."

"Oh," Lindsey deduced, "You must own the orchard on the next property."

Stepping back before he succumbed to the temptation of pulling Lindsey against his body once more, Paul replied, "No, the cabin and orchard are on the same property. The cabin is where me and my sisters were raised. I don't need that much space, so I hired a property management company to rent it out to tourists. I have an apartment above the barn in the orchard."

"That could be convenient for us in the current situation," Lindsey began.

Paul kissed her cheek, as he had done with each of the other women that he had danced with, and said, "Yes and no. It's a short-term rental. If you stayed there too long, people would wonder why. Let me come over later and I'll explain further. Okay?"

Giggling, Lindsey asked, "How come you never offered to sneak into my cabin when we were at the camp?"

Paul grinned and said, "Believe me, I was so tempted on so many nights."

"Well," Lindsey replied, "I may no longer tempt you, but you will be welcomed whenever you show up. Thanks for the dances, Mr. Eddy."

~~~

"I think that guy is trying to get your attention," Lynda told Lindsey.

Turning in the direction that Lynda was pointing, Lindsey saw a face that, while aged twenty years, it was still familiar to her. Seeing her recognition, the guy stepped away from the bar and headed towards her.

"I just wanted to make sure that it was really you here in the flesh," Rick Campos drawled.

Lindsey tried to hide her disdain, but failed, "As opposed to what?"

Ricky replied smoothly, "You being here in my dreams."

"Oh, Ricky," Lindsey cooed. "You are like the sun in my world."

The smirk on Ricky's face turned into a full-blown smile until Lindsey continued in a tone laced with pure vitriol, "So stay ninety-three million miles away from me."

Ignoring him with an obvious sneer, Lindsey returned to her conversation with Lynda, "Which days of the week are the dance classes that your daughter takes?"

She wasn't sure if Megan or Annie would be interested in taking dance classes, but the conversation with Lynda was part of her effort to work herself across the ballroom slowly, chatting with people as she made her way towards the exit without drawing attention to herself.

Running into Rick Campos had not figured into that strategy and she knew that if she gave him the time of day, he would delay her efforts to leave and go meet up with Paul.

After Lynda had answered Lindsey, Ricky insinuated himself again, "Come have a drink with me, Lin. Give us a chance to catch up. It could be like old times."

"Excuse me, Lynda," Lindsey muttered. "I need to go thank Marly and Karly once more for hosting the cookout. Ricky, get lost."

Not waiting for a response from either, Lindsey headed towards the registration table where Paul's twin sisters stood studying the unused nametags to identify which classmates hadn't shown up for the reunion.

Lindsey addressed Marly first, "I apologize if my comment earlier about your brother was taken wrong. He is a great dancer and I enjoyed my time with him."

Marly smiled, "Don't sweat it. Paul told me that you were always a kidder. What I don't understand is how he seems to know that about you. Do you know him from somewhere?"

Lindsey didn't see how she could falsify her history with Paul, especially with his sisters, so she tried to keep it mundane and insignificant, "We learned today that we had spent time at the same summer camp when we were younger."

Karly perked up suddenly and asked, "When? I mean, how old was Paul when you met him at this camp?"

Lindsey tried to be evasive, sensing that she may have already revealed more than she should have, "I don't remember learning his age at the time."

Karly persisted, "Then do you remember how old you were?"

"Crap!" Lindsey thought. It wouldn't be any problem for the sisters to figure out how old their brother had been when she and Eddie had met. They were the same age as her, after all. Then she asked herself, "Why would it matter?"

Lindsey finally decided to admit, "It was the summer when I was fourteen. He was one of the camp counselors, if I remember right."

Marly seemed to suddenly understand her sister's interest when she asked, "Was that the YMCA camp off Highway 68 across the North Carolina border, between Ducktown and Turtletown?"

"I don't remember its exact location," Lindsey answered honestly.

"My God!" Karly squealed. "You're her, aren't you?"

Lindsey was confused by the question, "Her who?"

Marly answered before her sister, "Her, her. The girl that our brother almost blew off college for. The one that he has always said was the only girl who treated him, like him."

"I don't know what you two are talking about," Lindsey stuttered.

Had Eddie, or Paul, considered staying in Spring Place because of her, because of what had developed between them over the four weeks at the camp? She remembered his words from when they were dancing, "I know you in my heart." She remembered the words that he had spoken at the cookout when Chet Bethel had tried to cause trouble, "You can trust me."

Most of all, she remembered what she had seen in his eyes, pure, unadulterated adoration. The sincerest expression of devotion to her that she had ever seen from anyone other than her parents. The expression that she had witnessed daily for the four weeks at the camp with him. Had he thought about her all these years just as she had done with him?

Lindsey caught herself and pulled away from her mental and emotional meandering long enough to respond, "That was over twenty years ago. I doubt that he remembers it any more than I do."

"It was twenty-three years last summer," Marly interjected, with Karly nodding in agreement. "Believe me, Paul has not forgotten. Anyone who knows him recognizes that the girl he met that summer set a standard that no other girl or woman since then has been able to compete with."

Karly added, "If you are that girl, you better not ever break his heart again..."

"I didn't break his heart!" Lindsey protested before she could stop herself. She went on to explain, "We decided together that with him heading off for college, it would be futile for us to even try to have a relationship. Then there was the age difference that bothered him far more than it did me."

"It may not have been intentional," Karly said, "but our brother came away from camp that summer with one hell of a broken heart. We both remember it well, right, Marly?"

Marly nodded and said, "I bet the reason why he would never tell us anything about you was because he suspected that we were classmates. We always thought that the girl was older, closer to his age. This explains a lot. So, are you two going to reconnect now that you have found each other again?"

Lindsey needed to derail the obvious hopes of Paul's twin sisters. She shook her head as she said, "I don't see that happening. I have far too much going on due to Emily's death and all that will entail for me to deal with, especially in the short term. I'm not even certain that the girls and I will be staying in Spring Place or returning to my home in New Hampshire. There is too much uncertainty right now that trying to rekindle anything with your brother would likely turn out to be a mistake."

Karly advised, "Don't sell our brother short, especially where his determination is concerned. If he still holds the flame for you that we suspect he does, you'll have a hard time resisting him."

"Resisting him is what he apparently wants me to do," Lindsey thought. "For now."

Chapter Six

Lindsey felt like she had been given a present that she wasn't allowed to unwrap.

She liked the wrapping paper. The bow was impressive. The size of the box held great promise for what might be inside. What was actually inside remained an enigma.

Would the present hold the same trust for her that she had cherished all those years ago? Or, would time and life experiences have somehow altered the innocence in which that trust had existed? Lindsey knew that she had trusted Eddie completely, and after Saturday, she had found no reason not to trust his older version that was Paul.

Paul had asked her to trust him when he offered her the USB cable, and even though she hadn't known that it had been him at the time, his solution had been what she needed. He had asked her to trust him in dealing with Chet at the cookout, and he had certainly earned it then. He had asked her to trust him at the reunion, and then again later at the cabin, and Lindsey had not been disappointed either time.

Now she had this present that Paul was offering her - offering them. "You can trust me," Paul had said when explaining that he would find ways for the two of them to continue reconnecting and exploring a potential future for them, while still maintaining a public appearance as mere acquaintances.

Was it her uncertain trust in Paul that was causing Lindsey's confidence to waver, or was it her trust in herself? Could she resist the impulse to bury herself against Paul every time that he was near her? Could she keep the silly grins off her face when simply thinking about him? Could she quell the green monster of jealousy that had reared its ugly head at the thought of Paul even talking to another woman?

Why did he have to kiss her like that?

Lindsey had been home from the reunion for less than fifteen minutes when the tapping on a door in the kitchen had startled her. Paul had snuck into the basement of the cabin from an outside door and climbed the stairs that led into the house. He had changed out of his suit, wearing a casual polo shirt and jeans. Being familiar with the house, he insisted on brewing a pot of coffee for them while Lindsey took an opportunity to also change into something more comfortable.

Paul's first words after they had both taken a seat on the couch in the living room set the tone for their evening chat, "I think I would have missed you even if we had never met."

Those words have been like a magnetic pull that Lindsey couldn't resist. Her body had instinctively moved against Paul's without conscious thought or consideration. It just seemed to know that this was its designated place in the universe.

There had been no reminiscing about their summer together. Nostalgia would not serve them now. Their conversation focused on their joint affirmation that each of them wanted there to be a present that they could share without creating any potential conflicts of interest for Paul as the Chief Judge. A future was seldom mentioned, but silently hoped for by both of them.

They had maintained a slightly more than platonic intimacy while they chatted on the couch. The cuddling would occasionally include soft caresses by one or the other, but nothing too brazen or inappropriate. It hadn't been until Paul was preparing to leave, when Lindsey had moved to place a gentle kiss onto his lips.

Whether Paul had mistaken her intentions, or had ones of his own, he had turned that simple kiss into something that Lindsey had never experienced before in her life. Paul had literally and figuratively melted her very being. Nothing existed in the world except the feeling of her in his arms, her lips willingly imprisoned by his passion. He had possessed her the same way that he had all those years ago, only more unyielding, and more permanent in its effect.

With Megan exiting the car at her school, Lindsey smiled at Paul's revelation from Saturday evening. He had confessed that when they had first met at the camp, he had assumed that Lindsey was closer to seventeen than the age that he later discovered her to be. Paul had secretly doubted her age claims until he had eventually verified it with the camp administration.

"What a difference," Lindsey thought as she watched Megan bounce up the steps to her school.

Since returning to Spring Place, Lindsey had done a lot of reminiscing about that summer when she had been fourteen. Watching Megan heading into her school, and realizing that Emily's oldest daughter was now the same age that she had been that summer at camp, made Lindsey notice how different she had been compared to most other fourteen-year-old girls; then and now.

Societal and cultural influences between generations could explain some of the differences between her and girls like Megan. However, if Lindsey analyzed the contrasts between her and other girls when she had been fourteen, there remained stark differences in her recollection. Differences even between her and Emily back then.

Physically, Lindsey had been somewhere in the middle of the pack where her development was concerned. There had been just as many girls who were more developed physically as there had been those who were less developed. Emily, for example, had been taller and definitely more developed, with fuller breasts and more defined hips and waist.

Lindsey, on the other hand, had been more intellectually and societally mature. She had developed "street smarts", as her mother had called it. Her mom had attributed it to Lindsey's independent streak and the quest for assuming responsibility for herself that had always been a part of who she was.

Annie interrupted Lindsey's thoughts when she moved from the back seat to the front seat, and asked, "You want us to take the bus home, right, Aunt Lin?"

"If you're okay with that," Lindsey affirmed. "I'll get all of our things moved to the house from the cabin this morning so you and Megan can get everything put away and settled back into your rooms before starting any homework."

Even if them living in the cabin owned by Paul wouldn't have eventually raised conflict of interest concerns with some people, Lindsey knew that she needed to return Emily's girls to a life that they were more familiar with; sooner rather than later. She decided that since the girls had weathered their grief at the memorial service and celebration of life, this Monday following those would be as good a time as any.

Janice had also mentioned that demonstrating the stability and return to the daily routines of the girls would look better when the custody hearing was held. Once that was resolved, Lindsey would have more flexibility in decisions such as where they all would eventually live, if not Spring Place.

The traffic outside of the middle school was significantly lighter than at the high school where Megan went. The fact that none of the students at the middle school drove their own cars certainly played a part in this. It made dropping Annie off fifteen minutes before the first bell at eight o'clock quick and easy.

Lindsey now had plenty of time to get to Emily's house in order to meet with Janice and Mylene Monroe. Both lawyers had insisted on being present when the GBI arrived to execute their search warrant. Janice had assured Lindsey that the photo albums that she had shared with people on Saturday were returned to the house on Sunday and that the GBI would find them exactly where they expected them to be.

She would let the lawyers supervise the search. Lindsey intended to spend her time finalizing some arrangements that she had started on Sunday after church. Paul had promised to find ways for them to meet secretly and in private until all the cases were resolved, and Lindsey trusted that he would. She just knew of ways to expand upon whatever Paul came up with on his own.

Cecil Firth had been one of the few classmates that Lindsey had at M.I.T. that she had not shunned after graduation. One reason for this was that his educational discipline had been computer networking while hers had been neurotechnology and robotics. The emerging influence of artificial intelligence had been a common denominator for lengthy discussions between the two classmates, and a friendly respect had developed between them

Lindsey didn't know what Cecil's IQ score was, so she couldn't call him a genius. What she did know was that Cecil was the person that the geniuses went to when they had a network problem that they couldn't resolve. He had once explained to Lindsey that there were all sorts of industry standards associated with computer networks and their security, but they all were adolescent when tasked with matching what he termed, "Firth Standards".

Soon after starting R.A.N.T., Lindsey had hired Cecil as her personal research consultant. He was paid directly by her as an IRS-1099 consultant with no visible ties to her company. The network that Cecil designed and implemented was impenetrable to her competitors, which frustrated them immensely and added to the technological advances that R.A.N.T. maintained still.

The devices, systems, and software that R.A.N.T. produced could easily integrate into any other systems in the world, but competitors could not integrate their products into anything made by Lindsey's company that included any programming with the Firth Standards embedded in it.

There had also been several legitimate and not-so-legitimate research projects that Lindsey had passed along to Cecil. She wouldn't personally stoop to spying on her competitors or advocating any form of corporate espionage, but she had no reservations about protecting herself or her company by gathering as much data on her enemies as possible. Where Cecil obtained the data didn't concern her.

Over the years, Cecil Firth had willingly become Lindsey's personal "fixer". What he couldn't accomplish from his computer, Cecil arranged for the "boots on the ground" required to deliver a more personal message to anyone Lindsey believed needed a message delivered to. There was never anything physically done to a person that might harm them, but the messages were clearly understood when delivered, "Don't fuck with Lindsey Norris or R.A.N.T.".

Lindsey hadn't tasked Cecil with any research projects when they had spoken on Sunday. Her directions had been specific to facilitating the ability for her and Paul to communicate privately via e-mail, text, and over the phone. She was expecting a message from Cecil confirming that her directions had been followed. It should have arrived by the time that she reached the house.

Turning onto the street where Emily's house was located, Lindsey sighed to herself and thought, "Oh, the neighbors are going to love this!"

Cars and SUVs were parked along the curbs on both sides of the street for twenty-five yards on either side of the house, leaving barely enough room for a single vehicle to pass them on the street. As Lindsey drove by, she saw two cars in the driveway, only one of which she recognized as belonging to Janice Evers. The woman standing next to Janice at the other car must be Mylene Monroe, since she too had insisted on being present when the GBI search warrant was executed.

Lindsey parked down the block at the first available spot on the opposite side of the street and walked back towards the house. Crossing the street at a driveway, she was met in the middle of the road by Paul Eddy and a middle-aged black woman.

"What are you doing here?" Lindsey asked Paul in surprise.

Paul stepped beside her and used a gesture with his hand to encourage Lindsey to continue towards her destination as he said, "Let's get out of the road. I had a few spare minutes this morning so I asked Judge Roane to accompany me in case the agents had any further questions related to her intentions when approving their search warrant. Judge Roane, I would like to introduce Lindsey Norris."

Judge Roane smiled her greeting as they all continued walking towards the house, "I am pleased to meet you, Miss Norris. May I ask how you are involved here today?"

Lindsey was taken aback as Paul spoke before she could, "Lindsey is named as the executor of the deceased's estate, her personal representative, and the preferred guardian for the minor children."

"Emily and I were best friends," Lindsey added. "I will be moving into the house today with her daughters."

Paul simply nodded, and Lindsey didn't wait for a response from Judge Roane. She simply muttered, "Let's get this party started."

Janice saw the trio approaching and walked down the driveway to meet them, accompanied by the other woman. Janice introduced Lindsey to Mylene Monroe, who was too busy greeting Paul Eddy and Judge Roane to immediately acknowledge the introduction. When she did turn to face Lindsey, her countenance was impressive.

Mylene Monroe looked exactly as Lindsey would envision a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model looking when they reached their sixties and were seen wearing a conservative woman's business suit. From her graceful demeanor to her flawless makeup, to her expertly coiffed hair, this woman radiated confident authority.

"I'm glad to meet you in person, Lindsey. We have a lot to discuss, but I think it best if we wait until we have a bit more privacy before delving into matters too deeply."

Lindsey nodded, and said, "I agree. How do you suggest that we proceed here this morning?"

Indicating the cluster of sheriff deputies huddled around the two GBI agents, McConnell and Ramsey, Janice said, "Those guys are chomping at the bit to get into the house, almost as if they expect to find an assortment of their favorite donuts inside there."

Turning to address Judge Roane, Janice continued, "Your Honor, Mrs. Monroe and I would like a few moments to review the scope of the search warrant with you to seek clarification on a few items listed and to express some concerns that we have with it. I was prepared to file a motion seeking a delay in the execution of the warrant until we can be heard, but since you are here, our hope is that we can get your opinion on our concerns and move things forward expeditiously this morning."

Judge Roane waved her hand at the two GBI agents, indicating her desire for them to join her. When a few of the deputies started to follow, she hollered, "Just Agents Ramsey and McConnell, please."

Both GBI agents had scowls of frustration on their faces when they reached Judge Roane. She ignored this and said, "Gentlemen, the counselors have some questions and concerns related to the scope of the search warrant that you presented to me. Although it is unprecedented, I am willing to hear their concerns right now and allow you to listen along as I do so. I will offer you an opportunity to address any concerns that you feel are unfounded by your requested search, but if things get too contentious, I will pause the search until a formal hearing on it is held in my courtroom. Understand?"

When McConnell and Ramsey simply nodded in affirmation, Judge Roane addressed Janice, "The floor, or in this case, the driveway, is yours, counselor."

"Thank you, Your Honor," Janice began. "I would like to start by stating our disappointment in the GBI assuming such an aggressive and confrontational approach to this search. Rather than reaching out to Miss Norris or me to request our cooperation in facilitating a search of Emily Bethel's residence, they decided to strong-arm us by seeking a search warrant. On that point, Your Honor, we would like to get confirmation from these agents that their requested search is related entirely to Emily Bethel being the victim of a crime and for no other purposes. If that is confirmed, I would then like to address the specific items that the agents have listed of evidentiary value in their request and how to proceed with their collection of said items."

"Gentlemen?" Judge Roane pried. "You are investigating the homicide of Emily Bethel and consider her strictly a victim at this time, correct?"

Ramsey reluctantly muttered, "Yes, Your Honor."

Janice stepped in once more, "Your Honor, I would ask that during the search, that the focus remain on Emily Bethel being a victim and not a suspect. The evidentiary value of any items discovered during the search should have clear and compelling relevance to her role as the victim and why she might have been a target for murder. For example, including her daughters' rooms in this search should require the GBI to demonstrate relevance to their stated objectives listed in the warrant."

McConnell started to object, but Judge Roane raised her hand to stop him. She said, "I believe that the possibility that any relevant evidence related to the murder of Emily Bethel is unlikely to exist in her daughters' bedrooms. However, it isn't impossible. Therefore, I will allow a surface search only of those areas of the house unless you can present to me reasonable cause to search more extensively."

"We can live with that," Janice said agreeably, effectively cutting off the GBI agents. "Next, Your Honor, is the matter of original documents and photographs. Unless there are some obvious indications that an original document or picture possesses DNA or other forensic evidence relevant to the death of Emily Bethel, we request that none be physically removed from the house. There is a copier in the home office which would allow for a reproduction of any original documents or photos to be created while maintaining access to, and the validity of the document for probate purposes, and to allow the daughters of the deceased to view any pictures that might assist them with their healing from this horrific event in their lives."

"Gentlemen," Judge Roane addressed the agents. "Do you have any problems with the counselor's request?"

Her tone indicated to everyone that it wouldn't matter if the GBI agents agreed or not. Judge Roane had made her decision in favor of Janice Evers.

Ramsey decided to try anyway, "Your Honor, we need to be allowed to do our job properly. Tying our hands like this could prove detrimental to our investigation..."

Judge Roane held up her hand once more to stop him, "This is not a crime scene or the residence of a suspect. I am confident that if you treat this search as the fact-finding mission on the victim that it is, the constraints that I am approving will not hamper your investigation. Now, if you still want to argue your position on this, I will ask my clerk to find an available time on my schedule next week to hear from all parties involved. The search will be postponed until then. What is your decision?"

McConnell and Ramsey shared a glance before Ramsey said, "We're fine with executing the warrant under the guidelines you have established, Your Honor. May we get started now?"

Judge Roane nodded, but added, "Once I hear you relating those guidelines to any of the deputies that you intend to assist with the search, you will be free to execute the warrant."

Lindsey and Paul remained standing on the driveway when Judge Roane accompanied the GBI agents, Janice, and Mylene Monroe to where the deputies were clustered awaiting instructions.

"Do you think that you could join me on the back patio for a few minutes without creating too many rumors about us?" Lindsey teasingly asked.

"That depends," Paul retorted, "Do you think that you can keep your hands off me if I do?"

"I believe that I can resist the urge to smack you silly for a few more minutes," Lindsey quipped. "Follow me."

Managing to control his laughter, Paul let Lindsey lead him around the side of the house, through the gate, and into the backyard of Emily's house. She went to the patio and set her purse onto the table there before glancing around at the area.

"I see that I need to add 'finding the pool cleaner' to my list of things to do," Lindsey observed after examining the surface of the built-in swimming pool and hot tub. The covering of recently fallen leaves on the water was so complete that she couldn't see any trace of water on the surface beneath the leaves.

Paul pulled a chair out for Lindsey as he said, "Maybe you could do that later. I have to leave soon for a staff meeting at the courthouse in Dalton."

Lindsey acquiesced and stepped to the proffered chair. Before sitting, she reached into her purse and removed a slip of paper and handed it to Paul, explaining, "Here are the details on your new encrypted e-mail account that I had created for you. Once you log on, you will see that you already have an e-mail from me. If we communicate only through these accounts, our messages will be visible to no one else. Ever. Later..."

Reading the information, Paul interrupted, "Wouldn't the messages be visible to anyone who gained access to the device on which the messages were sent or received, such as one of our cell phones?"

"If you would allow me to finish," Lindsey brusquely replied, "This afternoon, you will receive a delivery of a new smartphone. You will need to set it up using your personal biometrics, to include your retinas, your fingerprints, and your voice. The unique machine identifier on that device is the only one that the e-mail account will accept messages from you, or send messages to. That provides a second level of encryption for us. As long as you close the e-mail application on the phone after each use, no one will be able to gain access to view our communications on that device other than you."

Remembering where Lindsey had said that her Master's degree was from, Paul didn't question her ability to make these arrangements. He said, "I guess that being an M.I.T. alumnus does have its benefits."

Lindsey simply smiled, winked, and asked, "Do you think that you could ever be attracted to a nerd like me?"

He realized that she was teasing, but Paul wanted nothing more right then than to pull Lindsey into his arms and completely dispel any doubts that she had about his attraction to her. He leaned in to whisper, "Beneath this calm, professional exterior lies the heart of an infatuated teenage, and now nearly middle-aged boy, who can't get his attraction to you off his mind."

They heard the door from the house open just before Janice stepped out onto the patio, accompanied by GBI agent Ramsey. Paul tried to be nonchalant as he slid the paper that he was still holding into his pocket, but Janice noticed, so he said, "Thanks, but I won't trust the recipe until I taste the results at the hands of someone else."

"Oh, he's good," Lindsey thought. "He's very good!"

Before Paul could respond, Lindsey explained, "It's my cobbler recipe. Judge Eddy took Emily's daughters to pick apples on Saturday with the promise that they would bake him an apple cobbler from some of their harvest. With us having been so busy, I thought that he might get to experience the fruits of their labor if he made the cobbler himself, so I wrote down the recipe for him. I didn't realize that he would insist on trying the cobbler first."

Shrugging, Paul said, "I don't think that's unreasonable, do you, counselor?"

Janice's face lit up, "Give me the recipe and I'll make the cobbler for you. It can be dessert when you join me for dinner some evening."

Avoiding a laugh at the expression that Lindsey shot Janice behind her back, Paul said, "Thanks, counselor, but I promised, what were their names, Megan and Annie, that I would let them make me a cobbler themselves. I'll just bide my time waiting for them."

Lindsey offered, "If you leave me a telephone number to contact you, Judge, I will let you know when the girls have the cobbler ready for you. If they don't have too much homework today, we might be able to bake a cobbler before we sit down for dinner, and they could deliver it to you tomorrow."

"If I might interrupt," Agent Ramsey said, "Could I get a few minutes alone with Miss Norris to ask her some questions about Emily Bethel? I understand that they were best friends."

Paul visibly bristled before interjecting, "Your disrespect and arrogant unprofessionalism are wearing on me, Agent."

Addressing Lindsey, he added, "I will leave my personal cell number with Miss Evers. Please let me know if Agent Ramsey misbehaves while asking you questions."

Lindsey simply nodded as Paul and Janice left her with Agent Ramsey on the patio. Without waiting, she took a seat at the table and watched as Ramsey took the seat across from her. She saw the traits that Paul had mentioned once more as Ramsey started immediately asking questions.

"What is your full legal name?"

Wanting to get this interview over with, Lindsey simply sighed and answered, "Lindsey Paulette Norris."

"Paul and Paulette?" Lindsey stored this realization away for later contemplation.

"And where is your place of residence?" Ramsey asked next.

"I have an apartment on the campus of the company where I worked, in Methuen, Massachusetts, which I use as my primary residence. I also own a townhouse a few minutes north of there in Salem, New Hampshire. It is my legal residence, but I am seldom there due to work."

"That leads to my next question," Ramsey said before asking, "Where is it that you work?"

Lindsey didn't want to divulge too much to this man, so she simply replied, "I worked at Robotics and Neural Technologies."

"And what do they do?" Ramsey asked without looking up. "Build robots?"

Shaking her head, Lindsey explained, "Not in the sense that I believe you are imagining. R.A.N.T. develops and manufactures the technology which allows robots, automated systems, and the like to operate autonomously; learning and evolving as they perform the tasks that they were designed for."

She didn't add that her patented designs for sensors and control applications had become the bedrock upon which technologies such as self-driving cars and robotic-assisted surgeries were now possible. Lindsey had expanded the sensory capabilities of autonomous systems to the point where they could see, smell, feel, and hear their environment; and adapt their behaviors accordingly. This is where R.A.N.T. had become the industry leader under her control, and where the experts predicted that it would remain.

Finally catching her use of the past tense, Ramsey asked, "You said 'worked'. Are you unemployed now?"

Explaining in as vague a fashion as possible, Lindsey said, "I recently accepted a buyout from my company. Whether I remain retired or find something else to occupy me will depend a great deal on what is best for Emily's daughters going forward.

"Are you married and do you have any children of your own?" Ramsey questioned.

Lindsey's response was quick, curt, and unapologetic, "My personal life, beyond my friendship with Emily is irrelevant to your investigation. I don't need a law degree to know that. If you continue with this line of questioning, we are done here, and I will inform Judge Eddy of your insolence."

Ramsey didn't react or look up from the pad that he was writing on before continuing, "How long did you know Emily Bethel?"

"Her maiden name was Cline," Lindsey offered. "We knew of each other since starting school in Kindergarten, but we didn't become friends until we began middle school in the sixth grade and wound up having all of the same classes together."

"What can you tell me about her family?" Ramsey prodded.

Shrugging, Lindsey replied, "Her mom and dad seemed happy together, but they didn't interact with any of their siblings or other family, if they even had any. Emily never mentioned any aunts, uncles, or cousins. She once did mention that all of her grandparents were dead. She had a brother, Harry Junior, who was three years younger than her but no other siblings."

Ramsey paused his note-taking to ask, "Do you know if any of her family are still alive? We didn't identify any at her memorial service."

Shaking her head, Lindsey said, "Sorry, but I don't know. After Emily severed ties with her family while she was in college, I never heard her mention any of them again."

Puzzled, Ramsey asked, "She severed ties with her entire family? Why?"

"Emily discovered that she had been adopted and her parents had never told her," Lindsey offered as her answer.

She didn't elaborate, and hoped that the agent wouldn't get nosier. Lindsey could explain about how learning of her adoption had affected Emily personally, but she wouldn't want to detail how the inheritance that revealed her biological past had driven a much larger wedge between Emily and her adoptive parents.

Emily's biological father had been a married older man who had impregnated his secretary, but hadn't learned of the child's birth until years later. Heir to a trucking company fortune, he had hired private investigators to locate his only child and keep tabs on her as she grew. Upon his passing, his entire estate had been bequeathed to Emily, who hadn't even known of her father's existence before his lawyers had tracked her down one day at the University of Georgia.

Upon learning of Emily's seven-million-dollar inheritance, her adoptive family had demanded that she share it all with them. The ensuing arguments over Emily not being told of her being adopted, and her family's selfish demands for her to share a fortune that she didn't feel justified even receiving, created lasting rifts in the relationships that Emily wanted to separate herself from.

Emily had been too emotionally fragile and involved in her studies at the time to make major decisions about what she wanted to do with the inheritance. She did know that she didn't want it to alter her life, or for her to be treated differently by people if they learned of her windfall. After Lindsey and Emily had researched the options, Emily had opened a numbered account in Belize and stashed the entire seven million where no one other than the two of them would know about it.

The secret account was not part of Emily's estate, at least as far as her will and other financial documents indicated. Her daughters weren't even listed as beneficiaries, but Lindsey had been established as a joint owner on the account and had sole access to it now that Emily was deceased. Hell, based upon Emily's financial prowess, Lindsey was certain that the account held significantly more than the original seven million, but she hadn't enquired, and the two friends hadn't discussed it for years.

Once again, Lindsey didn't need a law degree to assume that anyone learning that Emily's death gave her best friend possession of a hidden seven million dollars would immediately consider this a motive for murder.

Ramsey returned to his questioning, "How many years ago was this severing of ties with her family?"

Doing the math in her head, Lindsey replied, "Eighteen years ago, when Emily was nineteen."

"From what I have learned," Ramsey said, "Emily Cline married when she was twenty-one. Was she still in college at the time?"

Lindsey said, "She got married the summer after graduating from UGA. She waited until her return from her honeymoon to take and pass her CPA exam."

"Did she date much, either before she was married or after her divorce from Charles Bethel?" Ramsey inquired. He tried to sound contrite when asking.

Lindsey considered her own love life over the years. It hadn't been much different than what Emily had always shared about hers. She told Ramsey, "Emily had mostly social dates before she met Chet, or Charles Bethel. Nothing serious or anything lasting more than a few weeks, and seldom intimate in nature. After the divorce, her focus was on maintaining a stable family for her daughters, and Emily felt that including a variety of men into her life was not the example that she wanted to set for her girls. She always told me that there would be time for dating later."

After flipping a page, Ramsey asked, "So, to your knowledge, was she seeing anyone recently?"

Lindsey hesitated before answering, "When we spoke last, a week ago Sunday, Emily mentioned again her interest in a guy she never named. She couldn't explain what it was that attracted her to him, and she wondered whether there might be an opportunity for them to explore things in the future."

"Why in the future?" asked Ramsey in confusion.

"Because he apparently worked for one of Emily's clients," explained Lindsey. "Emily would have considered it unethical to explore a relationship or even date someone who worked for a client organization. Once her contract with the organization was over, she might consider dating a guy, but not until then."

Ramsey glanced up from his pad, "Did she mention which of her clients that this guy worked for?"

Shaking her head, Lindsey replied, "Not really. I did get the impression that the company or organization was related to the Moonshine Festival in some way because Emily was pondering the pros and cons of exploring things with the guy with the holiday season coming up. That told me that whatever client this was, she believed that her job with them would be done by late October or early November. That coincides with the festival being held on the last Saturday before Halloween."

"Regarding her work," Ramsey prodded. "She was an accountant, correct?"

Lindsey explained, "Emily held a license as a certified public accountant, yes. However, she didn't practice general accounting. Her specialty was focused on regulatory accounting practices, particularly the audits and financial disclosure requirements of organizations, companies, government agencies, and other entities that are governed by federal or state regulations. She was also a licensed financial advisor and frequently assisted many of the same clients with guidance on their investments."

It took Ramsey a few minutes to document what Lindsey had said. He then continued, "Did her work typically require her to meet with her clients or others on the weekend?"

Pausing to consider the question, she thought back to the Sunday before last. Lindsey explained to Ramsey that she had called and spoken with Emily for about half an hour around one in the afternoon, which was the time each week that they usually chatted. That time of day had always assured them that Emily and the girls would be home from church, had finished their lunch, and wouldn't interfere with any plans that they had for later in the day.

Lindsey continued, "Emily cut our conversation short, mentioning that since the girls had been invited to join Beth Lander's son on a trip to a local corn maze that afternoon, she intended to get some projects done around the house. She never mentioned anything about plans to go visit anyone, and from what her girls have told me, they had expected their mom to be home when they returned from the corn maze around four-thirty. They had planned on helping her make fried chicken for dinner. What time was her accident?"

Ramsey opened his pad to a different section from where he was writing before replying, "The first call reporting a car off the side of the road came in at two-forty-nine on Sunday afternoon."

From Emily's house in Spring Place to the spot where Lindsey had been told the accident occurred, the distance would have been less than ten miles, and even with traffic, Emily would have made the drive in less than fifteen minutes. The question in Lindsey's mind, and she was sure the GBI, was "Why would she?"

"I've only got a couple of more questions for now," Ramsey said as he located his former spot in his pad. "Knowing the victim as well as you did, and being familiar with her estate, is there anyone you can think of who would benefit from her death?"

Lindsey had been struggling with the fact that her best friend had been deliberately murdered since she had learned of the investigation at the funeral home. Nothing in Emily's life that Lindsey had been aware of made her friend's murder make sense. The only person that Lindsey had ever known to even raise their voice at Emily had been her ex-husband, Chet, but Lindsey knew that Emily had never feared any violence from him. He had been "all bluster", as Emily had called it. Still...

"I suppose it would depend on what you felt constituted a benefit," Lindsey admitted. "I wouldn't be surprised if her ex-husband didn't recognize some personal satisfaction over Emily's death, even if he won't benefit from it financially, at least not if I can help it. She never mentioned anything, but there might be a client or two who could benefit from Emily's audit of their organization not being completed, but that would be short-lived, I would imagine. The audit would have to be completed by someone else at some point."

Her last comment apparently triggered a thought for Ramsey. He asked, "Did she ever uncover anything in her audits that resulted in criminal charges against a client or one of their employees?"

"Oh, hell yeah," Lindsey answered quickly. "Her thoroughness and ability to find abnormalities in financial records is why her services were in such high demand. If Emily Bethel said your financial records were in good order, that carried a ton of weight with regulators and others. She could point the finger at a responsible person, or persons, which frequently allowed a client organization to avoid fines and see the right individual get punished instead."

Talking more to himself than Lindsey, Ramsey muttered, "I hope that the records in her office identify those instances. Revenge can be a strong motive for murder."

Janice popped her head out of the back door and addressed Ramsey, "Are you about done? Your team is wrapping up in here and I need to talk to Lindsey before Mylene grabs her."

Ramsey closed his pad and stood, "I'm done for now. Thank you for taking the time, Miss Norris."

Janice opened the back door wide enough to exit and step aside so that Ramsey could enter the house. She closed the door and handed a piece of paper to Lindsey, saying, "It's probably against my best interest to provide his personal cell phone number to another woman, but you seem harmless enough where the judge is concerned."

Lindsey fought back her grin before sliding the paper into her purse and asking, "What did you need to speak to me about?"

"I just heard from the clerk of the probate court," Janice said. "We have a hearing on Wednesday morning to address two petitions that have already been filed to invalidate Emily's will and challenge the probate filing."

"Two!" Lindsey exclaimed. She and Janice had discussed the possibility of Chet Bethel contesting the will, but they hadn't considered another party doing so.

Janice nodded, "Charles Bethel is one, as we expected. The other challenge was filed by Harry Cline, Junior, on behalf of himself and his parents. Do you know what reasons they might have to challenge Emily's will?"

"Yeah. Seven million plus reasons," Lindsey thought.

Chapter Seven

"When you walked away last night, you took my breath with you."

The whispered words that made Lindsey's heart race were immediately followed by, "Good morning, Miss Norris. What brings you to downtown Chatsworth this morning?"

She couldn't believe that Paul had remembered the exact words that he, as Eddie, had used to greet her every morning after they had met at camp that first day.

"I had a dream about you last night," Lindsey thought. Speaking in her mind the same words that she had used all those years ago in response to Eddie's morning greeting.

Lindsey had been telling herself since Saturday evening that there wasn't anything serious developing between her and Paul Eddy. So, why were feelings for him being tattooed onto her heart a little more with every thought of him that crossed her mind? They hadn't seen each other in more than twenty-three years before last week. Now, today, he was constantly on her mind.

Did it matter that he apparently hadn't even bothered to search for her over that time? Sometimes, the years that had passed seemed like a blink of an eye, and then Lindsey would realize just how much the world, and her life, had changed over that time.

She never thought that she would meet someone that would permeate her thoughts and feelings as much as Eddie had done during that long ago summer, yet here was the grown version of that boy, confusing the hell out of her at a time when she needed to maintain her wits in order to be here for Emily and her daughters; not to mention determining the future of her own life.

Meeting Paul in the coffee house had been arranged through e-mail messages, but he was supposed to be sitting at a table where she could ostensibly run into him by pure chance, and they would have a few minutes alone before she had to be in probate court. She hadn't noticed him when she had entered, and decided to go ahead and get in line to buy a cup of coffee to sip while waiting for him.

Unfortunately, she had soon been joined in the line by Janice Evers, who was supposed to meet Lindsey at the courthouse but stumbled upon her here instead. Crap!

Janice had only heard Paul's second morning greeting and responded before Lindsey could, "Good morning, Judge. Lindsey and I are on our way to a hearing on her probate case. We have a few minutes if you would care to join us."

Hiding her growing affection for Judge Paul Eddy in public was a challenge for Lindsey. Hiding her growing animosity towards this lawyer due to her blatantly vampish behavior around him was even more challenging. The only thing tempering Lindsey's reaction to Janice's behavior was Paul's purposeful obliviousness to almost everything Janice tried.

Lindsey still hadn't adjusted to seeing Paul in a suit and tie. Not that he didn't look spectacularly professional and dignified wearing a suit. It was just that the limited times that they had spent alone so far had almost exclusively found him dressed in casual clothes; clothes that she felt welcoming and comfortable for her to snuggle against while with him. His wearing a suit drove home the "hands-off" aspects of their relationship to her, and she didn't enjoy that at all.

"Relationship," Lindsey thought with a suppressed sigh. While driving herself and the girls home from Paul's orchard last night where they had delivered and then shared an apple cobbler, she had realized that what they had right then wasn't a relationship, it was a "Situationship". Everything between them was situation-dependent, and there was no clear indication of when that might change.

Paul addressed Lindsey rather than Janice when he asked, "Have you ladies ordered your drinks yet?"

"Yes, we were just waiting for them when you arrived," Lindsey replied nonchalantly.

Smiling, Paul said, "Good, then why don't you two go find us a table and I'll bring everything over for us when it's all ready?"

"Janice," Lindsey quickly said, "Why don't you go grab that table over there and I'll help the judge. He might struggle with three cups of hot coffee."

Surprisingly, without any dissention, Janice hurried over and took a seat at one of the few vacant tables available. Paul placed his order and then stepped aside with Lindsey to wait.

Lindsey had pondered her attraction to Eddie many times since their brief time together that summer. There was something about him that had made Lindsey feel better about herself; like she was somehow a better person because Eddie had considered her a friend, and that he was willing to spend time with her.

Over time, Lindsey had concluded that it was his trust in her; an underdeveloped and shy stranger, that fostered the connection that she had felt toward him, and in turn, which allowed her to trust him so soon and so completely.

In the years since, it was through this remembered trust that Lindsey had frequently allowed her mind to start wandering into intimate thoughts about Eddie. It was these intimate thoughts that were now fueling a growing desire within her to spend more time with Paul. It felt like she was living on a new level. Just being near this man made her melt.

As if reading her thoughts, Paul muttered. "I feel like I've been living a fantasy since last Saturday. You're all I think about."

Lindsey teased, "You haven't e-mailed me much, so your thoughts about me can't have been that all-consuming."

Nodding discreetly, Paul muttered, "And I regret that. Believe me, there is so much that I want to tell you; for us to share, but it has always been easier for me to verbalize things rather than writing them down. With written words, I tend to get too focused on syntax, sentence structure, and the other aspects of writing that I don't feel that I adequately convey my thoughts and feelings, especially those of a personal nature. A side effect from years of writing legal briefs and court decisions, I suppose."

They waited silently for all three cups of coffee to be served before heading to the table where Janice sat waiting for them. There was an empty seat next to her, but Paul pulled a chair out for Lindsey and then took the one directly beside her.

Paul started, "It seems awfully fast for a probate case to be coming before the court. Is there a problem?"

He knew from his conversations with Lindsey from the previous days what the reasons were for this hearing, but Paul didn't want to appear the least bit informed in front of Janice. He waited for her to explain.

She did so, "Apparently, Judge Moore doesn't want to waste time probating a will that is being challenged so quickly after its filing with the court. He wants to decide on the merits of the challenges prior to approving an administrator or establishing a course that might later be overturned."

While she was listening, Lindsey composed and then sent an e-mail message. Paul felt the silent vibrating notice of an incoming message seconds later. He withdrew the "secret" phone from his inside coat pocket and held it up so that his eyes were visible to the camera on it.

The message revealed read, "I want to hold your hand!!"

He held up a finger as he apologized to Janice, "Please excuse me for a second."

Paul quickly typed his reply, "That could be arranged."

Lindsey thought that it would become too obvious if she and Paul kept communicating like this while sitting across from Janice, so she slipped her phone back into her purse. She would explain her further plans to Paul later. Lindsey dropped her right hand onto her thigh and waited.

She didn't have to wait long before feeling Paul's left hand reaching over in search of hers. His touch immediately lightened her heart and buoyed her spirits. Lindsey gently squeezed Paul's hand in appreciation for how he made her feel. He returned the gesture with an affectionate caressing of her hand with his thumb.

"There aren't many valid reasons to challenge a will in the state of Georgia," Paul said as he returned to the earlier conversation with Janice. "Surely, an attorney as skilled as you would have drafted a bulletproof will for your client, with a no-contesting clause included."

Janice huffed, "Of course I did. I suspect that the challenges currently are targeting the actual validity of the will rather than its contents. And, I am at a loss as to what reasons might be raised to substantiate those claims by either of the challenging parties."

Paul nodded, "So, you do know who is challenging the will? Is there more than one party?"

This time, Lindsey responded, "Chet Bethel and Harry Cline, Jr., Emily's ex-husband and her younger brother. Or, adoptive younger brother, that is. There was no blood relationship between them."

Continuing to act uninformed, Paul asked Lindsey, "Emily Bethel's younger brother was adopted?"

"They were both adopted," Lindsey confirmed. "Emily was adopted first, and then Harry was adopted three years later."

Paul shrugged, "It likely doesn't matter. Under the law, if they were both legally adopted by the same parents, they would be viewed as siblings. Brother and sister, even if it isn't biological."

Janice interceded again, "I guess we'll find out in court. Judge, are you going to be at the courthouse here for a while? I would love to buy you lunch if you're available when our hearing this morning is over."

Paul released Lindsey's hand on her thigh before rising, "I'm afraid that my docket is full today, Counselor."

Turning to address Lindsey, he said, "It was a pleasure to see you again, Miss Norris. I wish you well with your hearing this morning. Please let me know how things turn out. You're in good hands with Miss Evers, but good luck."

Both women watch as Paul carried his cup of coffee out to the street and then across to the courthouse. Lindsey turned to study Janice as the attorney remained focused on Paul long after he was out of sight.

"Aren't you concerned that your lascivious intentions towards Judge Eddy are so obvious to everyone?" Lindsey asked.

Janice chuckled, "Not at all. It's part of my smoke screen in case I ever need it."

Puzzled, Lindsey asked, "Smoke screen?"

Leaning forward and lowering her voice conspiratorially, Janice said, "I would never do anything with Judge Eddy or anyone else who might know me. I date a few local guys casually, and even another attorney from time to time, but I keep my true self away from anyone who might know who I am."

Still confused, Lindsey prodded, "Your 'true self'? I don't understand."

Lowering her voice further, Janice declared, "Please keep it between us, but I have certain predilections that, if known, would seriously impact my reputation in the community. I maintain a careful separation of my work life, my social life, and what I call, 'my play life'. I am part of a lifestyle that many people would find inappropriate, at best."

"So, you're gay?" Lindsey asked.

"Oh, God no," Janice gasped. "Maybe I'll explain it to you sometime, but right now, we should probably head over to the courthouse."

Lindsey had little interest in what Janice might or might not want to explain to her someday. Simply knowing that there was no interest from her in Paul put Lindsey's mind at ease.

As they walked across the street to the courthouse, Janice asked once more, "Are you sure that you don't know of any possible reason why the validity of Emily's will could be called into question? A reason why it shouldn't be treated as legitimate?"

"What possible reasons could there be?" Lindsey argued for the umpteenth time since the questions on the will were brought up. "You said that you can attest to Emily being of sound mind and body when she signed the will in front of the required witnesses. What other reasons could possibly be raised?"

"Not many," Janice confirmed. "Unless they are claiming that provision of the will included something of a fraudulent nature or was created for Emily while she was under duress or undue influence..."

Lindsey interrupted, "Could someone claim that a newer will exists?"

Janice stopped on the sidewalk and grabbed Lindsey's arm, "What made you think of that? Do you have reason to suspect that Emily had another will drafted after the one that she had me do for her two years ago? Why would she do that?"

Pulling her arm from Janice's grasp and continuing towards the courthouse, Lindsey said, "I'm not implying that she did. I'm simply suggesting that one of them might be claiming that she did."

"Well, they would have to produce it for us and the court to review," Janice cried while hurrying to catch up with Lindsey.

Once Janice was beside her again, Lindsey asked, "Is there someplace in the courthouse where we could have a fax sent?"

Janice nodded, "The court clerks will generally allow for a fax to be received as long as it didn't have too many pages. Why?"

"Because," Lindsey said, "Their challenges may be related to me being named the executor and my possible influence over Emily's decisions based upon us being best friends. I want to get some documentation in hand to help dispel any potential concerns that the court might have in that regard."

"How are you going to do that?" Janice asked.

"Reluctantly," is all that Lindsey said.

~~~

"Your Honor," argued Harry Cline's attorney, "We contend that the will filed with this court is fraudulent and invalid because it does not list all of the decedent's known assets, more specifically, the seven million dollars inherited by Emily Cline in 2008. Some portion of the money that she received should be part of her estate, yet there is no mention of it anywhere. Without intentional deception or fraud being involved, seven million dollars doesn't just disappear."

Judge Moore had decided to hear each of the challenges to Emily Bethel's will separately, and without the parties to each challenge being present to hear the arguments of the other. Consequently, Charles Bethel was unaware that Emily's family was still attempting to get their hands on an inheritance that her ex-husband knew nothing about. As far as Lindsey knew, Chet had never met any of Emily's family; before, during, or after their marriage.

As Cline's attorney sat, Janice rose, "Your Honor, the last will and testament of Emily Bethel filed with this court is the true representation of her estate and her wishes as of the time that it was notarized and recorded. If there is no mention of monies that the plaintiff claims existed at one point in the deceased's life, it stands to reason that this was no longer the case at the time that her will was drafted. One simply has to ask, Your Honor, 'Why would a mother purposely hide seven million dollars from the daughters that she obviously wished to be the beneficiaries of her estate?"

"You make a good point, Miss Evers," Judge Moore said. "Does the plaintiff care to comment?"

Rising once more, Cline's attorney argued, "It is my client's position that the very fact that the inheritance known to have existed in 2008 is not listed as an asset which might benefit the deceased's daughters is a clear sign of deception or fraud, Your Honor. We believe that this money is being purposely excluded from the estate to keep it hidden from not only the daughters, but also any other potential beneficiaries or creditors."

Janice interrupted, "Your Honor, the plaintiff's attorney is getting perilously close to slandering my client. If there is some proof that the money reportedly inherited by Emily Cline still exists, the plaintiff should provide that evidence or cease all allegations related to it."

Addressing Cline's attorney once more, the judge asked, "Sir, do you have any proof that there is money remaining from this inheritance back in 2008? In fact, do you have any proof that the deceased actually received the inheritance that you are alluding to?"

Cline's attorney rose once more, this time with some papers clutched in his hand. He told the judge, "Your Honor, I have copies of e-mails between the deceased and her family detailing the amount of the inheritance in question from the time that it was initially received by Emily Cline. If I might approach?"

Janice was preparing to object when Lindsey touched her arm to get her attention. When Lindsey shook her head, Janice silently sank back into her chair to await the judge. Both tables sat patiently as Judge Moore reviewed the documents presented to him. None of them knew how to read the frown that appeared on his face as the judge continued reading.

Judge Moore finally looked up, holding the documents in his hand, as he said, "These e-mail messages do imply that the deceased received an inheritance in the amount of seven million dollars, but they do not prove that fact. Furthermore, what these e-mails do make clear is that it was the expressed desire of the deceased that none of her inheritance be shared by other members of her immediate family at that time. Based upon those clear desires, I rule that the plaintiff lacks standing to challenge the will of Emily Bethel. We will take a ten-minute break before hearing the second challenge."

The judge's gavel rapped on his bench only two times before the bailiff gave instructions for everyone to rise as Judge Moore left the bench. Janice and Lindsey ignored Harry Cline Jr. and his attorney as they sulked out of the courtroom.

"You knew about the inheritance, didn't you?" prodded Janice once the courtroom was mostly clear. "That's why you didn't want me to object to the e-mails."

Lindsey simply shrugged and said, "Let's just say that I knew what those e-mails would reveal and leave it at that. Can we discuss these before the next hearing starts?"

Sliding a few recently received fax pages in front of Janice, Lindsey explained, "Please follow my cues on when or if to reveal anything that these pages show. I would prefer to share the minimum details necessary to counter any accusations that our friendship was an undue influence on Emily in deciding the details of how her estate would be managed after her death."

Janice had overheard Chet Bethel's comments last Saturday when he had blatantly accused Lindsey of being the lesbian lover of his ex-wife. So, she supported Lindsey's suspicions that Chet and his attorney would try to besmirch their friendship in every way possible in order to prevent Lindsey from being appointed as the executor of Emily's will, and more importantly, the legal guardian for her daughters.

"Let me take a few minutes to go over them," Janice said. "Then I will have a better idea of what might apply when."

Standing, Lindsey said, "Sounds good. I'm going to go check a few e-mails while you do that. I'll be at the back of the courtroom, so just wave if you need me to clarify anything for you."

Quickly taking a seat on the last bench on the left side of the courtroom, Lindsey pulled out her "Paul Phone", as she referred to it, and sent him an e-mail question, "Do you have another vehicle that people wouldn't recognize as yours?"

She hadn't expected an immediate response, so Lindsey was surprised when she was notified of one, "Nothing that would be street legal. I only have a tractor and other utility vehicles. Why?"

Lindsey had suspected as much, so she replied, "You'll see when you get home today. Gotta run."

Sliding that cell phone into her purse, Lindsey then withdrew her normal cell phone and used it to send some additional e-mails before opening her inbox to see what had arrived since the last time that she had checked. Perfect! Now she needed to get back to the house so that she could get on her laptop while chatting with Cecil at the same time. Her afternoon was going to be interesting.

Seeing the bailiff beginning to rise, Lindsey hurried back to her seat beside Janice. She remained standing in anticipation of the judge re-entering the bench. That is exactly what happened.

Judge Moore took his seat and instructed the bailiff to call the next plaintiffs into the courtroom. While waiting for Chet Bethel and his attorney to get situated, Lindsey quietly asked Janice, "Do you have any concerns?"

Janice simply shook her head and waited for the judge to start the proceedings. She glanced over at the plaintiff table, nudged Lindsey, and whispered, "Chet couldn't be more dressed up if he was the groom at his own wedding."

Lindsey stole a glance and then simply smirked at Janice in response. Chet had always been a narcissistic show-off where his appearance was concerned, so she wasn't surprised to see him dressed so formally for this hearing. It was even obvious that he had seen to his hair getting cut and styled since they had encountered him last Saturday. It wouldn't matter. Lindsey knew that Chet's first impressions never lasted long.

Judge Moore spoke, "We are here for a hearing on a challenge in the matter of the last will and testament of Emily Bethel. Miss Brenner, would you please begin by citing your client's standing to challenge the will in question?"

Ariel Brenner rose from her chair and placed a hand on the shoulder of Chet Bethel before beginning, "Your Honor, my client claims standing due to his paternal right of custody related to his biological daughters, Megan and Annie Bethel. In a separate action, Your Honor, my client will be seeking full legal custody of his two daughters. When that custody is granted, which we have every expectation that it will be, we believe that this court will agree that my client will be the most appropriate party to administer the benefits bequeathed to the minor children by their mother upon her death. At this time, we are merely seeking a postponement of issuance of Letters of Administration for the estate of Emily Bethel until the custody matter is resolved in favor of my client."

"Your client's standing is questionable," Judge Moore said. "However, the concern for the best interest of the minor children makes me inclined to grant the postponement. Miss Evers, do you have anything that you would like to get on the record at this time?"

Janice rose and said, "Yes, Your Honor. I have before me the divorce decree granted to Emily and Charles Bethel, which I will be prepared to enter into evidence at the appropriate time. This document will show the court that Mr. Bethel willingly ceded custody and all matters related to raising his daughters to his ex-wife, Emily Bethel. While he did not legally terminate his parental rights, Mr. Bethel has expressed no interest in his daughters or their lives since the divorce was granted. We hope that the court sees this attempt to delay the probate of the legally prepared, notarized, and recorded wishes of the deceased, as the futile attempt at vengeance against a former spouse that this obviously is. Thank you, Your Honor."

Nodding, Judge Moore said, "Thank you, Miss Evers. Miss Brenner, has your motion related to custody of the children found a spot on the docket yet?"

Ariel was beaming as she replied, "Yes, Your Honor. We are scheduled to be heard by Judge Eddy at 10 a.m. on Friday, October 23^rd. That's the day after tomorrow."

"In that case," Judge Moore said as he picked up his gavel, "I see no harm in delaying the issuance of Letters of Administration until sometime next week. We are adjourned."

Janice and Lindsey remained seated as Chet Bethel and his attorney strutted out of the courtroom. Lindsey muttered, "That actually worked to our benefit, I think. We were able to avoid showing any of our cards prior to the custody hearing."

Janice finished packing her bag as she lamented, "Except that you will only have access to the funds in the checking account that you were the paid-on death beneficiary for..."

Lindsey chuckled, "Janice, are you forgetting that money is never going to be an issue for me, or for those two girls. We could walk away from Emily's entire estate and not suffer one bit. If it wasn't for how much I know that Emily would hate seeing Chet Bethel get any benefit from her passing, I would let him have everything she left and not even blink."

"I suppose you're right," Janice conceded. "It's too bad that Mylene couldn't be here to listen in. I better send her an e-mail to update her before Friday morning."

"You go ahead and do that," Lindsey said as she rose. "I have a call scheduled with her for tomorrow morning so I can fill in any blanks that there might be after your update. I'll be at the house the rest of the day. If you need to reach me, just call my cell."

Without waiting for a reply, Lindsey headed out of the courtroom. As she left the courthouse, she saw Chet Bethel holding court with Ariel Brenner on the walkway leading to the parking lot. Her car was parked in a lot closer to the coffee house across the street, so she was able to ignore her adversaries and reach her car without any further delay.

After getting situated behind the wheel, Lindsey hesitated before starting the car. She wanted to take a quick check of her e-mails first. There was nothing on her "Paul Phone", but she hadn't really expected there to be. Paul was likely either in court or reviewing cases in his office. She did see an e-mail from Cecil on her regular phone that simply contained an embedded hyperlink to some website. Lindsey could tell by the URL that this link held the promise of information that she had been seeking.

It would have to wait until she was on her laptop at the house. While Lindsey could have accessed the link from her phone, she knew that the information on the site would be better viewed on a larger screen, and more readily printed out if she wanted to. Would she want to? She doubted it.

The interview questions asked by Agent Ramsey had made one thing clear to Lindsey: The accident and subsequent fire had destroyed Emily's cell phone as well as her laptop. This left a huge hole in the investigation into her murder. As Paul had later explained to Lindsey, none of Emily's recent communications would be readily accessible to the GBI agents until they had obtained the subpoenas that would compel her service providers to grant access to the e-mail and cellular accounts where those communications would hopefully still reside.

Lindsey didn't know what Emily's accounts might reveal, and she certainly didn't want to play a role in the investigation of Emily's murder. But Lindsey did want to gain some assurance that no stone was being left unturned. She owed her friend that much. The best way for Lindsey to do that was to have access to the details of the investigation herself.

Paul hadn't mentioned how long it might take the GBI to obtain subpoenas since those would have to be issued by a Federal Court judge. Lindsey grinned as she thought, "Cecil don't need no stinkin subpoenas!"

Lindsey had never been a mere bystander in her own life. Depending upon what the information told her, she would decide whether she would remain on the sidelines of the investigation or not. Emily deserved better than some disinterested third parties simply going through the motions while investigating her death.

There was also a very clear message that needed to be delivered to both the Cline family and Mr. Charles Bethel. A very clear message.

~~~

"5477".

Paul was clueless as he had stared at the number in the e-mail from Lindsey, which had arrived just after lunch on his phone. He had pondered it for only a few seconds before dismissing the message as the part of a larger whole that would eventually be provided for him.

Now, as he examined the strange Ford Explorer that was parked in the bay of his barn, he noticed the numbered pad next to the driver's side door handle. Ten digits, five in a row on top of the last five.

Shrugging to himself, he entered the four numbers in sequence and was rewarded with the sound of the door unlocking. Another piece of the larger whole.

Opening the door, the interior of the car, darkened by the heavily tinted windows and the shade within the barn, was illuminated by the dome lights of the car. This made the key fob and folded piece of paper on the driver's seat clearly visible to him.

The keys slid onto the leather seat as Paul picked up the paper from beneath them. He unfolded it as he stepped out of the barn and into the sunlight in preparation to read whatever message had been left for him, anticipating still more of the larger whole.

He read, "If we're going to play this game, let's have some fun doing it. As you can see, the windows of this car are at the extreme limit of what is legally allowed for tinting. This will make it difficult for anyone to recognize who is driving it, especially at night. Please consider using this car to pay me a late-night (after 9 p.m.) visit sometime. The garage door at our house is already programmed into the car. If you push the leftmost button under the rearview mirror while on the driveway, you will find an empty spot in the garage waiting for you. Close the garage door again before exiting the car, and no one will be able to see you entering the house from the garage."

Paul picked up the keys and slid onto the driver's seat. He had to make a few adjustments in order to feel comfortable behind the wheel, but he was soon situated to his liking. He took a few minutes to examine the interior of the car before opening the glove box and searching for the documents on the car. He found the temporary registration and saw that the car was listed as a fleet vehicle for some company in Massachusetts that he didn't recognize.

Lindsey must have borrowed it from someone that she knew back home. Not a bad plan, since anyone curious enough to check the ownership of the vehicle wouldn't be able to easily associate it with him.

He then sat and studied the note Lindsey had written once more. There was certainly considerable ambiguity in her words related to a "late-night visit". Paul didn't suspect for a second that Lindsey would intend for them to do much more than talk, and possibly cuddle some while the girls were in the house with them. However, as he glanced around the interior of the car once more and his focus landed on the back seat, he wondered how the tinted windows would look when all steamed up.

Chapter Eight

"As you wish..."

The oft-repeated phrase from the movie "The Princess Bride" reverberated around in Lindsey's mind as she waited for Megan and Annie to inform her that they were ready for bed and that it was time for her to come and say goodnight to each of them.

The final credits of the movie had faded from the television screen almost half an hour earlier, but the legendary phrase remained front and center in Lindsey's mind as she weighed it against another phrase that was even more legendary for her personally, "You can trust me".

In the movie, the character of the beautiful farmer's daughter, Buttercup, would torment the handsome farm boy, Wesley, by demanding that he do any variety of menial tasks for her. His timid reply to her always consisted only of the three words, "As you wish".

It had eventually dawned on Buttercup that when Wesley was saying those words, what he was really saying to her was, "I love you". Was this what Eddie's words, "You can trust me," had really meant that summer all those years ago? If so, did they hold the same meaning now?

Lindsey heard the garage door opener engaging and checked the time. He was a little early, and a day later than she had hoped, but at least Paul had followed the rest of her instructions. She now needed to get the girls into bed and hope that Paul would wait in the garage for a few more minutes.

The light was out in Annie's room when Lindsey entered. She whispered, "Annie, are you still awake?"

Hearing nothing, she crossed the room, traversed the shared bathroom, and entered Megan's darkened room. Before Lindsey could ask anything, Megan softly said, "Consider us asleep, Aunt Lin. Say goodnight to Uncle Judge for us."

Lindsey started to question Megan, "What..."

"It only makes sense," Megan explained. "You can't go to him with Annie and me here, so we knew that he would have to come here at some point if you two were going to talk. Who else would be coming into our garage at this time of night without you getting upset?"

"Well, we do have things to discuss," Lindsey muttered. "He is going to be the judge at tomorrow's hearing on the custody challenge."

Megan giggled, "It's okay, Aunt Lin. We won't tell anyone that you and the judge like each other. Annie and I think that he is a good pick for you."

Taking a seat on the foot of Megan's bed, Lindsey warned, "Sweetie, I know that it probably seems like a cute little secret to you and Annie right now, but it is very important that people believe that the judge and I hardly know each other. If people knew that he and I were old friends, he wouldn't be able to do his job where any of the cases involving you, your sister, and your mom are concerned."

"But you are more than old friends," Megan objected. "We can tell by the way that you got cozy with him last Saturday and how you both look at each other..."

Sighing, Lindsey explained, "Yes, when I was your age, the judge and I were more than friends. We still like each other, but now is not the time for anyone else to learn of that. Can you trust me on this and keep things totally secret for now?"

"We will," came Annie's voice from the bathroom doorway. "We like Uncle Judge."

"We will," echoed Megan.

Lindsey leaned over and kissed Megan on her forehead before rising and heading over to do the same with Annie. She then asked, "Why do you call him, 'Uncle Judge'?"

Annie replied over her shoulder while walking back to her bed, "That's what Jessica and Davie called him, and we kinda hope that if you like him enough, he might someday also become our uncle."

"He doesn't mind us calling him that," Megan offered. "He told us so."

"You girls are a couple of nuts," Lindsey chuckled. "Get some sleep, and we'll discuss things more in the morning. Good night."

Walking downstairs and entering the kitchen, Lindsey found Paul leaning against the counter, apparently waiting for her. She didn't hesitate to walk directly to him and wrap her arms around his body. Feeling him return her embrace, she moaned, "God, you feel good."

Leaning down to kiss Lindsey on her lips, Paul sighed, "You feel too good for the degree of restraint that we need to exhibit right now. Are the girls asleep?"

Keeping her lips pressed against Paul's, Lindsey replied, "They're down for the night. I suppose the degree of restraint that we need right now precludes me from crawling all over your warm, wet body in the hot tub, doesn't it?"

Paul chuckled before picking Lindsey up in his arms and carrying her towards the living room, saying along the way, "It most certainly does. However, on the subject of hot tubs, did you hear that both of my sisters won some contest and are each receiving new hot tubs at their homes, fully installed for free?"

Nuzzling against Paul as he settled onto the couch, Lindsey ignored his comment about the hot tubs and asked, "Before I get too comfortable, would you like anything to drink?"

"Maybe later," Paul replied. "I just want to enjoy the feeling of you right now."

Lindsey couldn't disagree with that agenda, but she wanted more. "Can you multi-task by enjoying the feel of me while talking to me at the same time?"

Pulling her body tighter against his, Paul's husky reply was, "It might be a challenge, but let's give it a try."

Lindsey teasingly kissed the side of Paul's neck. She wanted to set the right mood for her first question. "Why didn't you ever search for me after that summer?"

She wanted her question to denote her curiosity rather than sound accusatory. Lindsey hadn't been able to answer the same question in reverse the hundreds of times that she had asked it of herself over the years. God knows that once she had started R.A.N.T., and especially after she had Cecil working for her, she definitely had the resources which would have allowed her to find virtually anyone in the world, but she had never turned these loose to find her "Eddie".

When Paul hesitated to answer, Lindsey added, "Your sisters mentioned that I had broken your heart. Is that why?"

"My sisters know about our past?"

After kissing his cheek in reassurance, Lindsey explained, "You apparently mentioned something to Marley at the reunion, which she took as an indication that you and I had a history. When they both asked me about that history, I mentioned us having met at a summer camp. That was evidently all it took for them to assume that I was the girl who had broken your heart all those years ago."

Paul had been struggling to figure out how to answer this inevitable question from Lindsey. Her last comment provided him with the impetus that he needed.

"Our time together that summer did result in a heartbreak for me," Paul admitted. "But I discovered in the subsequent years that it was the best break that any heart could ever have."

Lindsey was so shocked by his answer that she slid off of Paul's lap to sit beside him on the couch, wondering, "How could a broken heart be good?"

Sensing her confusion, Paul tried to explain, "No woman loved me for who I am. They loved me for what I could do for them. For whatever reason, I have always seemed to attract only two types of girls or women; Groupies and Golddiggers. They were either attracted to me due to my being a star athlete, by my clients being famous, or by my money. Even in high school, the cheerleaders and other girls wanted to be with me because they saw me as the quarterback of the football team or captain of the baseball team rather than who I really was - just me."

Remembering back to that summer, Lindsey did recall a few of the other girls expressing their envy over Eddie's obvious devotion to her rather than any of them. There had been comments about "How cool" Eddie was, or similar references that Lindsey now realized must have been related to the other girls recognizing his local status and fame. She hadn't known anything about him, and it wouldn't have mattered to her if she had. That famous person wasn't her Eddie.

She listened as Paul continued, "Then there was you. Nothing about me mattered to you except who I was right then; the me without trophies or awards. I was just the boy that wanted to be with you every waking moment. You helped me discover just how hard it is to find someone who would like me for who I truly am, instead of what I could do for them. You became precious to me in an amazingly short time. You still are."

Paul paused as Lindsey crawled back onto his lap. He embraced her again before continuing, "Like I said, I realized that you had done something special with my heart. You walked into my life like you had always lived there, like my heart was a home built just for you. No one since has made me as confident and trusting in my feelings for them. The reason that I hesitated in searching for you is that while you had been the best break this heart has ever had, you have always held the potential to be the worst thing that ever happened to me."

"Paul, I would never hurt you!" Lindsey cried, although she sensed that she understood what he was implying.

His reasons were very similar, if not identical to her own over the years when contemplating whether or not to search for Eddie. "What if she found him and could no longer have him?"

It had been twenty-three years. What were the chances that the teenage boy from that long-ago summer wouldn't be married or otherwise involved in a serious relationship? How would that diminish the wonderful memory of their summer together? It had seemed so much safer not to risk learning what "is" in order to protect what "had been".

Fate weaves its tapestry in mysterious ways. The fact that they had reunited and found each other unencumbered in any relationships was surely an oddity of the fates. The obstacle of keeping their times together secret now seemed so minor in comparison to what they would have faced if either had been unavailable to the other.

Lindsey proclaimed, "I have long believed that we only get a single chance in life to find that one special person that we are meant to be with forever. Paul, I have always loved and treasured what we shared that summer. And, I guess like you, I have harbored reservations about possibly discovering that they were only fleeting moments that we could never rekindle again. I'm not sure that we can rekindle them now, but that doesn't frighten me. Recognizing the man that you have become, I think that we might have an opportunity to share new experiences and adventures together, and I am excited at that prospect. Aren't you?"

Paul admitted. "I've hardly thought of anything else but you since Saturday, and I have been excited by you demonstrating your own willingness to explore things together. The e-mail system and the car are both nice touches that bolster my confidence in us."

Lindsey smiled at his words before considering what she felt she should confess. That removed the smile from her face as she nervously asked, "Can I tell you something as Paul that Judge Eddy might not want to know just yet?"

Tugging on her chin until her eyes were focused on his own, Paul said, "I place a high value on ethics, but I will always place a higher value on us. You can tell me anything at any time, and it goes no further."

"I'm rich," Lindsey stated matter-of-factly. She then awaited his response.

Paul laughed before exclaiming, "Join the club!"

"You don't understand," Lindsey pleaded. "I am filthy rich. Eleven digits of wealth rich. Richest female self-made billionaire rich."

Shrugging, Paul said, "I get it. You're rich. Is there a point that you are trying to make?"

Lindsey punched Paul playfully on the arm as she said, "That wealth comes with problems. My status isn't that widely publicized right now, and hopefully, the plans that Janice and I put into place will help to shield me further. I'm worried about how it might be used against me where custody of the girls is related."

Paul saw the genuine concern evident in Lindsey's expression and heard it in her voice. Privacy, and by extension, security would be the most critical concerns for her, he was certain of that.

"I don't assume that you got your fortune by winning the lottery," Paul surmised. "You must have been giving some thought to your life as an incredibly wealthy individual and all that this would entail."

Lindsey had been wealthy for a long time. The difference was that her wealth had been obscured through her role at R.A.N.T. She had been able to stay largely in the shadows by assuming the role of Chief Technology Officer rather than a more widely regarded and visible position as CEO.

No one outside of R.A.N.T., which was a privately held corporation, knew that the organizational structure placed the CTO as the head of the company, where all decisions were made. The CEO was the more public face for the company but held little actual authority. Lindsey had been the sole owner of the company, which is why her buyout so easily facilitated the creation of shares that the employees could take ownership of. Unfortunately, this buyout also made the transaction public, so her wealth would no longer be shrouded behind the corporate walls.

After explaining all of this to Paul, Lindsey added, "Emily advised me to establish a trust years ago that became the legal owner of my intellectual property and most of my assets. There are now two additional trusts, one based in Belize and the other here in Georgia, where the majority of my wealth from the buyout of my company will go. However, if someone was resourceful enough, they could learn that I am the beneficiary on all these trusts."

Nodding in understanding, Paul said, "Everything could still work out. I'm glad that you told me about your situation so that I could start offering you advice as ideas come to me. Let's start with you having Mylene and Janice entering motions in your custody and probate cases requesting that the court seal the records, or only release redacted records that hide the names of the parties involved. Since both cases involve minor children, they can cite that as the justification. That keeps your name out of public records where those cases are concerned. I don't expect a lot of press coverage, but with the murder of Emily Bethel in the background of both cases, any developments there that grab the public's attention could carry over to the probate or custody issues."

Paul continued, "Have you considered how you will document any income that you claim? One thing that might get raised in court tomorrow is your ability to provide for Emily's daughters financially."

Lindsey hadn't considered that. Emily had left her and her daughters with more than enough financial resources through her inheritance alone, but those funds were not included in her estate as documented with the probate court. Lindsey couldn't just pull those funds out of her hat tomorrow in court. She would have to rely upon the known savings and investments that Emily had listed, as well as her life insurance and the child support coming from the girls' father.

Unless...

"Would me receiving a monthly distribution from an annuity be considered income for the purpose of supporting the girls?" Lindsey asked.

Paul considered the question for a few seconds before asking, "Is it an annuity with period certain or a life annuity?"

Lindsey quickly answered, "It is presently structured to pay me $20,000 per month for life. I could get that amount increased with a single phone call if you think it is necessary."

Shaking his head, Paul urged, "Let's leave the financial details for the hearing tomorrow. I doubt that they will have little bearing on the most suitable custodial arrangement for Emily's daughters. Since their father is attempting to declare his custody argument through parental right, he might just find himself contributing substantially more to their support while still not getting custody."

Frowning, Lindsey remarked, "That would not be my preferred outcome. I mean I don't want Chet to gain custody, but I also don't want him more involved in the girls' lives than necessary. Why do you think that Emily was so agreeable to no child support or anything from him and resented the court ordering it? Neither her nor the girls wanted him feeling that his money makes them obligated to even speak to him."

Lindsey didn't want to reveal to Paul that by this time next week, Chet Bethel would be struggling to support himself. Her instructions to Cecil would make certain of that.

Nodding, Paul said, "Trust me, Mylene will be certain that the details on custody that were spelled out in the divorce decree are introduced tomorrow. It will be up to his attorney to explain any justifiable reasons why the custody arrangements from then don't apply now."

Their initial topic of conversation had gotten derailed. Lindsey was about to take it further off the tracks.

"What are your thoughts on Emily's murder?" Lindsey probed. "Have you heard anything more about the investigation?"

Paul shook his head, "No, but there's no reason why I should until the court needs to get involved in some fashion. I mean, I hear rumors just like everyone else, such as Emily was targeted due to her having knowledge of some crime having been committed, but those are just rumors as far as I know. Based on what I have witnessed from the guy, any rumors involving her ex-husband would hold the greatest credence in my opinion."

"Yeah," Lindsey muttered. "But I have been informed by Janice that her sources confirmed that Chet Bethel has a rock-solid alibi for the time of Emily's accident. He was at the Falcons' game in Atlanta and has dozens of witnesses to corroborate that. Of course, that doesn't mean that he couldn't have hired someone..."

The things that Paul had learned about the murder of Emily Bethel were not suitable for sharing. They involved the severity of the injuries that Emily had suffered. How she had been burned so badly that dental records were used for the positive identification of her body.

The most horrendous thing that Paul had learned was that what little blood had remained in Emily's body after it had been recovered was so burnt that it had to be treated to restore enough of it before toxicology tests could be run on it.

He took solace in being informed that the head trauma apparent on her skull indicated that Emily had likely been knocked unconscious when her vehicle had experienced its initial tumble over the side of the road, thus rendering her incapable of feeling the effects of the subsequent fire. It wasn't impossible that the head injury could have been the cause of her death, but that hadn't been determined yet. Paul hoped that it had been.

"I'm sure that the GBI will be going over his finances with a fine-toothed comb," Paul muttered as his thoughts returned to their conversation. "I wasn't too impressed with Agents McConnell and Ramsey, but hopefully, their forensic financial guys are better detectives."

Lindsey sighed in agreement before asking, "Did you hear whether their subpoenas ever got approved?"

Paul mumbled, "No, but like I told you, those would have to be issued by a federal court, so I am out of the loop there as well. Can I ask you something?"

Looking into Paul's eyes, Lindsey said, "Of course."

Without hesitation, Paul asked, "You were Emily's best friend. Did anyone ever ask you if you knew her login credentials for her e-mail or where they might be found?"

"Frankly," Lindsey said, "I was surprised that no one ever asked me. I wouldn't have been able to help them, but I am still surprised that no one ever asked me."

Lindsey hadn't checked with an attorney, but the research that she and Cecil had done indicated that as the personal representative of Emily Bethel and executor of her estate, there would likely be precedent for her having legal access to the email and cell phone accounts of the deceased. However, since the Letters of Administration had not yet been signed by a probate judge, the access that she had already obtained through Cecil's endeavors had to be kept secret.

There were more than fifteen years of archived e-mails in Emily's account and more than twelve years of stored text messages in her cell phone account. Lindsey had only been reviewing these contents for two days, but she had already discovered some things that concerned her related to Emily's murder. She wanted to get Paul's perspective on things, but she was struggling with how to do so without divulging too much that might compromise either of them.

Then, there were the documents, spreadsheets, and assorted other documents in Emily's cloud storage account. These were protected by a dual-factor authentication routine that would send a randomly generated number to Emily's cell phone, which would then need to be entered into the login screen to authenticate the access rights.

As Cecil had explained, with Emily's cell phone destroyed in the accident, they would need to get a duplicate SIM card from Emily's cellular provider that could be installed into a different phone, or he would have to go into the cloud server's system and change the cell phone number that the authentication code would be sent to. Both of these options would leave clear evidence of their having accessed the storage of Emily's information that the authorities would easily spot.

Cecil wanted the challenge of penetrating the cloud server and grabbing copies of all the files without being detected, but Lindsey decided to hold off until she had the legal authority to access the information herself. The texts and e-mails had given her enough to explore for the time being, including Emily's most recent documented conversations before her murder.

Lindsey had not been surprised to see that Emily's last text message had been sent to her. It was a picture of Megan and Annie in the Halloween costumes that each had selected for this year. Megan was going to attend the Halloween dance dressed as Taylor Swift, and Annie was going to go trick-or-treating with Lindsey dressed as her favorite female basketball player, Caitlin Clark.

That text message had been sent less than half an hour before the accident in which Emily had been killed. The one just prior to that had been Emily replying to an unidentified local north Georgia telephone number, with her response, "I'll be there in forty-five minutes."

When Lindsey had called the number to hopefully see who answered, all she heard was a generic voicemail greeting informing her that the person she was trying to reach was unavailable. She had considered leaving a voicemail, but couldn't decide on what sort of message might be appropriate under the circumstances.

"I wonder who Emily was going to see when the accident happened?" Lindsey postulated aloud.

Paul considered the question before asking one of his own, "What makes you think that she was going to see someone?"

Lindsey explained, "Because Emily abhorred shopping on Sundays. She only did so if it was absolutely necessary."

"That sounds strange," Paul quipped. "What did she have against shopping on Sundays?"

"Emily believed in keeping the sabbath holy," Lindsey said. "She didn't like shopping on Saturdays either due to that day being recognized by other religions as their sabbath, and she wanted to show them the same respect when possible. Anyway, with the girls being tied up going to the corn maze that afternoon, the only reason I can think of for Emily to have been driving anywhere when she was killed was if she was on her way to see someone. I wonder who that might have been."

"Then it likely wasn't related to her work either." Paul reasoned. "Did the GBI agents have any ideas about where she was headed?"

Shaking her head, Lindsey muttered, "If they did, they didn't share that information with me. I just can't imagine who she would have been meeting for her to be heading in that direction. I knew of most of her friends and acquaintances, and they were almost all here in Spring Place, in Dalton, or the surrounding areas. She did have a couple of old college girlfriends down in Atlanta, but that would have her heading south, not east, if she was heading to see any of them."

Lindsey considered something else before adding, "Plus, the girls were only supposed to be at the corn maze for a few hours. Emily wouldn't have planned a trip anywhere far enough away that she wouldn't be home before the girls without letting Beth Landers know, and she didn't do that. Do you think that she might have been heading over to the Apple Festival in Ellijay? That would only be about forty-five minutes away."

She didn't want to express it to Paul right then, but the Apple Festival made sense to Lindsey since the text message Emily had sent implied that she was going to meet someone in about forty-five minutes, and she had chosen Highway 52 as the route to get her to her destination. The question remained, "Who would she have been planning to meet?"

The number that Emily had sent the text to had been one that she had been communicating with for several weeks, usually to set up times for her and this other person to meet. Locations were never included in the texts, so Emily and this person must have established where they were going to meet in some other fashion that Lindsey hadn't identified yet, and then they had stuck with that same spot.

Lindsey needed to dedicate more time to Emily's e-mails to see if she could find something that might tell her who the texts might have been with. It was possible that all of the non-text communications had been through actual telephone calls between Emily and this person, but the only cell phone records that Lindsey had access to so far were the text messages. The call history was linked to her account information, and once again accessed through a dual-factor authentication routine. Emily's call history was only going to be available to her once the account could be accessed without alerting the authorities.

Seeing Paul check the time, Lindsey teasingly said, "If I wasn't afraid of being accused of trying to bribe a judge, I would ask you to spend the night here with me."

Paul chuckled, "You have had this particular judge bribed since Saturday afternoon, but I understand your point. I probably should be going though. Tomorrow is a school day."

Lindsey pulled Paul's face down and gently kissed his lips. She wanted something more passionate, but didn't trust either of them not to overstep the limits that they had agreed to.

She broke the kiss and asked, "If the custody issue gets resolved tomorrow, what does that mean for our situation? Do you foresee you needing to be involved any further in cases related to Emily's estate?"

Catching his breath after even the relatively tepid kiss, Paul replied, "You and I should be good since you're only a party to the estate and custody issues."

He then teasingly added, "Unless, of course, you get charged with something related to Emily's death."

"Ha ha!" Lindsey retorted while squirming purposely on Paul's lap. "You get quite the sense of humor when you get excited. Maybe I should avoid arousing you at all in order to rein in your penchant for comedy at my expense."

Paul laughed again before pausing to say, "You seem to be operating under the mistaken assumption that you can somehow avoid arousing me. I can't imagine that happening in this lifetime."

He wasn't the least bit embarrassed by the obvious physical evidence of his arousal. Paul was pleased that Lindsey had noticed. He hoped that she was also aware of the passion that existed in his heart for her. A passion that transcended the physical; existing on a much broader plane within him.

Lindsey wanted to offer some cutting rebuttal, but the fact was, she was in the exact same predicament that Paul was alluding to. She couldn't imagine not being aroused by him. It was as if she was a teenager once more, yearning so badly to experience the intimacies of the opposite sex for the first time.

She hadn't fully recognized or understood her physical desires for Eddie, even though she had analyzed them for years after their summer together. What she felt now, with Paul, exceeded those feelings, and easily those experienced with any other person since then. Lindsey craved this man. She would relinquish all control to him in an instant. She simply needed for him to desire her and she would be his to possess - entirely and completely.

Lindsey was brought back to the reality of the moment when Paul asked, "What are your plans for Saturday?"

She had been contemplating what to do to occupy the girls so that she could spend some time alone going through Emily's e-mails. Now Lindsey wondered what Paul might have in mind instead. "I'm flexible. Why do you ask?"

Paul answered, "When I told the girls last Saturday that I was going to take a bunch of my apples to Ellijay for the Apple Festival, they had mentioned wanting to go. I need to leave early, around seven, but if you and the girls wanted to accompany me, we could drop off the apples and then head over to Dawsonville for the Moonshine Festival this weekend."

Lindsey considered Paul's invitation. He apparently felt that when the custody case was resolved, most likely tomorrow, the potential for any conflict-of-interest claims being raised against him for being in a relationship with her would be eliminated. Would it be eliminated? Could they simply flip some switch and go from mere acquaintances to an involved couple in the eyes of everyone else in a single day?

Maybe not in Spring Place, but in Ellijay and Dawsonville, both small towns in different counties where Paul was not as well known, they stood far less chance of being recognized and drawing attention to any change in their status together. Plus, if accompanied by Megan and Annie, the perception of them being lovers would be further diminished. It could work!

Lindsey rose and held out a hand to help Paul also stand. She pulled him into an embrace as she said, "I'll pencil it in on my calendar. Let's wait and see how tomorrow goes before deciding. I will have one condition for you to agree with before giving my final acceptance."

"Anything," Paul muttered as his lips found the side of Lindsey's neck.

She gasped at the sensation of his lips gently nibbling on her skin. Pulling back to allow her to catch her breath, Lindsey whispered, "I'll want my boyfriend to hold my hand every chance he has."

Chapter Nine

Taking her seat after the judge had settled at the bench, Lindsey briefly glanced at the text message one more time, "You can trust me."

It had arrived on her "Paul Phone" shortly after she had entered the courtroom with Mylene Monroe walking beside her. Lindsey hadn't given any thought to the message then, assuming it was a reassurance from Paul that he would ensure that the custody matters before the court this morning would be adjudicated in her favor.

Then why was Judge Scarlet Roane sitting on the bench to preside over the case instead of Paul himself?

The judge addressed the attorneys, "I have motions before me from each of the parties' attorneys to address before we begin. Miss Brenner, would you like to go first?"

Ariel Brenner rose and confidently began, "Yes, Your Honor. My client would like to request that the details from his divorce from the mother of the minor children be excluded as potentially prejudicial. My client believes that due to possibly incompetent legal counsel, he was unduly coerced into certain stipulations that should have no bearing on these proceedings."

Raising an eyebrow in apparent surprise when Ariel quickly retook her seat, Judge Roane addressed Mylene Monroe, "Counsel, do you have anything to say regarding the argument put forth by your opponent?"

Rising, Mylene replied, "Yes, Your Honor. We believe that at the very least, the transcripts and eventual decree from the divorce of the minor children's parents speak to the desires of both at the time relative to the custody of the minor children. While the mother is deceased and not able to state her position on any changes to those desires, her last will and testament clearly speaks for her in this regard. We request that the court allow the records from the divorce to be entered into evidence and that any rulings on relevance be addressed on an as-needed basis. Thank you."

Ariel rose again, and said, "Your Honor, the desires of my client at the time of the divorce from his ex-wife were not adequately stated during those proceedings by his counsel, and were thus not addressed by the court. He unwillingly agreed to certain terms that he now wishes to change. It would be extremely prejudicial for the court to weigh his acquiescing to divorce terms against his current desire to gain custody of his daughters."

Mylene was preparing to rise again when Judge Roane motioned for her to remain seated. The judge addressed Ariel, "Counselor, please answer this for me. Wasn't the attorney who represented Mr. Bethel in his divorce proceedings a member of the same law firm that you are yourself associated with?"

"Yes, Your Honor, but..."

"Fine. Thank you. Since Mr. Bethel did have legal representation during his divorce proceedings, and was satisfied enough with that representation to return to the same well, so to speak, when selecting you as his legal counsel for these proceedings, I see no grounds for the details of the divorce proceedings to be excluded due to incompetent legal representation. I deny your motion for exclusion, but you are free to object to any portion of the evidence from that proceeding as it is introduced."

Turning her attention to Mylene Monroe, Judge Roane said, "Counselor, would you like to speak on your motion now?"

Mylene quickly rose, and said, "Yes, Your Honor. As this is essentially a family law case involving minor children, we are requesting that the court seal all records from these proceedings until all the minor children have reached the age of majority. We further request that the courtroom be cleared of anyone not a direct party to this case. Thank you, Your Honor."

"Any objections, Miss Brenner?" the judge asked Ariel.

"No, Your Honor," Ariel stated, barely rising from her chair.

Nodding, Judge Roane then said, "Very well, I will approve the motion. Bailiff, please clear all persons not a party to these proceedings from the courtroom."

Lindsey turned to see about a dozen spectators reluctantly being escorted out of the courtroom by deputies. While waiting for the room to be cleared, she whispered to Mylene, "Do you know why the judge assigned to this case got changed at the last minute? Wasn't it supposed to be Judge Eddy?"

Mylene leaned over to whisper her reply back, "I suspect that Judge Eddy is hedging his bets. He probably suspects that regardless of which side prevails here today, the other side is likely going to appeal the decision. As the Chief Judge, if he was the one to make the decision, any appeal would have to go to the Court of Appeals in Atlanta. By letting Judge Roane make the decision here today, an appeal of her decision would come before him, keeping it in his court."

"So much for them being able to bring their relationship out of the closet this weekend," Lindsey silently grumbled.

She knew that Paul's strategy was in her best interest, but that didn't mean that she had to like it. And, he was right about the likelihood of the decision of Judge Roane being appealed. She knew that if the decision went against her, Mylene would be instructed to file an appeal immediately. Lindsey couldn't see Chet Bethel doing anything different if he lost today. His ability to sustain a legal challenge would be in serious jeopardy very soon, however.

Satisfied with the courtroom, Judge Roane rapped her gavel once before speaking, "We will now move on to the motion before the court regarding the custody of Megan and Annie Bethel, the minor children of Charles and Emily Bethel. The court has reviewed the decree of divorce granting legal and physical custody to the mother, now deceased as well as the last will and testament of the mother granting guardianship of the minor children to Lindsey Norris. Since the facts related to both are clear, I would suggest that we focus on why one or the other should not be honored by this court. Miss Brenner, you may proceed first."

Without further preamble, Ariel rose and stated, "Your Honor, there are several factors involved in my client's parental rights that the custody directives in Emily Bethel's will neglect to address. Hence, we challenge the custody directives as not being in the best interest of the minor children. Furthermore, Your Honor, the named executor of the will is known to have exerted undue influence over Emily Bethel during her marriage to my client, and we intend to prove that she is unqualified due to her benefiting directly from the assets bequeathed to the minor children. I would like to call Charles Bethel to the stand."

Ariel Brenner started as everyone expected she would, by placing Charles Bethel on the stand to testify about why he should rightfully administer the multiple trusts that his daughters were to receive from their mother's estate. In particular, Chet railed on about his need to assume control of the trust that held half ownership in his carpet mill business rather than allow some disinterested executor to administer it for his daughters.

Lindsey ignored Mylene as she sat taking notes while Chet answered the basic questions from his attorney related to his background, his education, and his career. She didn't even give his overly formal apparel a second thought today. For her part, Lindsey got busy making notes of the ways that she was going to torment and eventually ruin Chet Bethel's life once this case was resolved.

The question posed had barely registered with Lindsey, but she caught enough of it to understand why Mylene had jumped to her feet to scream her objection. Lindsey did her best to hide the smile that Chet Bethel's testimony elicited.

Ariel had transitioned from questions about her client to ones that spoke to why he believed that he was the best person qualified to act as the custodial guardian for his daughters. His first answer, "I don't believe my daughters should be raised by the lesbian lover of my ex-wife," is what brought Mylene to her feet.

Judge Roane had quickly and unceremoniously sustained Mylene's objection before issuing a warning to both Chet Bethel and his attorney that targeting a federally protected class, in this case, the sexual orientation of an individual, would not be tolerated. She reminded both that Georgia state law also protected members of the LGBTQ community from discrimination where child custody and adoptions were concerned.

Mylene wasn't done with her objection, however. She said, "Your Honor, while the record of this hearing is sealed, I would request that the court provide me and my client with a copy of the transcript covering this witness's testimony. He has just defamed my client in open court, and we have every intention of bringing a defamation suit against him."

Ariel tried to recover, "Your Honor, my client was simply stating his opinion on..."

"Don't even try to go there, Counselor," the judge barked. "Everyone present in this courtroom just heard your client testify as a statement of fact that Miss Norris was the lesbian lover of his ex-wife. Unless you or he can provide some evidence to substantiate his factual statement, I believe that Miss Norris has a good case for her claim of defamation. Now, move on with your questioning."

She must have decided to retreat and lick her wounds because Ariel sank into her seat, saying, "I have no further questions, Your Honor."

Mylene began asking questions of Chet Bethel that Lindsey had assured her attorney that he would be unlikely to know the answers to. Questions such as; "What grade are your daughters currently in at school?", or "Is your older daughter right-handed or left-handed?"

When Chet admitted that he had never personally bought a birthday or Christmas present for either of his daughters, Mylene moved to her final questions, "Mr. Bethel, are you familiar with a company called The Piedmont Agency?"

Chet had a curious expression on his face when he simply answered, "Yes."

"Can you tell the court how you are familiar with The Piedmont Agency?" Mylene politely asked.

Glancing at his attorney before responding, he finally said, "They are the company that we use at Cascade Carpet Mills for our guards and corporate security needs."

Mylene pressed forward with her questions, "Has Cascade Carpet Mills ever found a reason to utilize the services of The Piedmont Agency for any other purposes?"

Visibly squirming in his seat, Chet delayed his response long enough for the judge to compel him to answer the question.

"We have used them to run background checks on potential employees," he admitted.

"Only potential employees?" Mylene asked accusatorily. "Never to run a background check on an individual who wasn't a potential employee of Cascade Carpet Mills?"

Chet was getting more visibly nervous as he reluctantly replied, "Maybe the occasional business competitor or potential vendor."

"I see," Mylene quipped. "Mr. Bethel, do you consider Lindsey Norris to be a business competitor or a potential vendor to Cascade Carpet Mills?"

Ariel rose, "Your Honor, is there some relevance to these questions?"

Ignoring Ariel, Mylene walked to the table where Lindsey still sat and accepted the documents that she was holding out for her. Turning to face the judge, Mylene asked, "Your Honor, may I approach?"

When Judge Roane verbally agreed, Mylene walked to the bench and extended the documents towards the judge, saying, "Your Honor, here is the background check performed on my client by The Piedmont Agency. I would simply request that Mr. Bethel tell the court who at Cascade Carpet Mills authorized this background check."

Judge Roane accepted the offered documents but simply held them as she asked Mylene, "What is the relevance, Counselor?"

Mylene didn't hesitate, "The relevance, Your Honor, is that if Mr. Bethel sanctioned this background check, and then had possession of it prior to this hearing, his statements against my client and his claims against her qualifications to be named the custodial guardian of the minor children are known by him and his attorney to be without merit."

Handing the documents back to Mylene, Judge Roane said, "You may proceed."

Turning once more towards Chet and waving the documents before her, Mylene said, "Mr. Bethel, understanding that there is a record of the transaction within the Cascade Carpet Mills purchasing system as well as The Piedmont Agency accounting system, would you please tell the court who at your company authorized the background check on Lindsey Norris?"

Chet glanced once more at Ariel before grumbling, "I did."

Handing the document back to Lindsey, Mylene muttered a simple, "Thank you," at Chet before turning to face him again.

"I only have one more question for you, Mr. Bethel. Did you or your attorney find anything related to the background of Lindsey Norris that would make her unsuitable to be the custodial guardian for your daughters? Does she have a criminal record or anything that this court would want to consider in making its decision?"

Chet defiantly insisted, "There are things that a background check won't show."

Nonplussed, Mylene addressed the judge, "Your Honor, please instruct the witness to answer the question posed."

Judge Roane instructed, "Mr. Bethel, you will answer the questions asked of you and nothing more. In this case, I believe a simple yes or no will suffice."

A defeated Chet asked, "What was the question again?"

Without hesitation, Mylene asked, "Was there anything in the background report that you received on Lindsey Norris which would indicate that she was not suitable to be the custodial guardian for your daughters?"

"No," Chet growled.

Mylene simply nodded and said, "I have no further questions, Your Honor."

Before Chet could return to his chair next to her, Ariel rose and announced, "Your Honor, I would like to call Rick Campos to the stand."

Lindsey's head jerked up so fast that it startled Mylene. Neither of them had expected Chet's attorney to call any witnesses besides him, and the reaction to the name of this witness put Mylene on full alert. They had to wait for him to be led into the courtroom by the bailiff. Lindsey and her attorney's attention became laser-focused on Rick Campos as he was sworn in at the witness stand.

Ariel had the witness state his name for the record, and then asked, "Mr. Campos, can you tell us what your occupation is?"

"I am a patrol supervisor with the Murray County Sheriff's Office assigned to Area Two," Campos replied proudly.

"Area Two," Ariel repeated. "Can you tell the court where this might be located?"

Nodding, Campos answered, "Area Two is the western portion of Murray County. Basically, everything west of U.S. Highway 411."

Nodding herself, Ariel sought clarification, "So Area Two would encompass all of Spring Place and the surrounding communities?"

"Yes, it would," Campos agreed. "The largest residential and commercial areas in the area are along and just south of the U.S. Highway 76 corridor, down state route 225, which bisects Spring Place. We focus a lot of our patrols in this area."

"Thank you for the clarification," Ariel said. She then asked, "Mr. Campos, are you acquainted with Miss Lindsey Norris?"

Campos sat up taller and grinned at Lindsey as he replied, "I have known Lindsey Norris since we went to high school together."

"Have you remained in contact with each other over the years since high school?" Ariel asked pleasantly.

"No," Campos admitted. "But not for a lack of trying on my part. We lost contact after Lindsey left to go to college and hadn't seen each other until our twentieth high school reunion last weekend."

Lindsey didn't pay attention to the rest of the answer. She was too busy scribbling a quick note for Mylene, "I dumped his ass after he raped my best friend, Emily!"

Ariel only had a few more questions for Campos, centered around his close ties to the communities in and around Spring Place and his unwavering interest in knowing if Lindsey Norris ever returned to the area so that he might have an opportunity to meet up with her again. After he testified that he was certain that she had not been back to Spring Place between the time that she had left for college and the reunion last week, Ariel turned him over to Mylene for her questions.

Lindsey and Mylene had discussed the possibility that Chet or his attorney would suggest that she had not been in the lives of Megan or Annie over all these years as one reason why she should not be their guardian. They hadn't expected a third-party witness to be used for that purpose.

No matter. They were prepared.

Before rising, Mylene whispered some instructions to Lindsey, who nodded in understanding and pulled Mylene's briefcase onto her lap. Mylene approached the witness stand with a disarming smile on her face.

"Good morning, Mr. Campos," Mylene began. "Has anyone ever mentioned that you asking around about Lindsey Norris and trying to monitor if or when she returned to Spring Place could be considered stalking? As a law enforcement officer, I'm sure that you are aware of the legal definition of that term."

Campos grinned, and replied, "If Lindsey Norris was the only former classmate that I tried to learn about returning to town, I could possibly see someone viewing it as stalking. However, there were several former classmates that I endeavored to keep track of when they returned so that I could reconnect with them as well."

Waving a dismissive hand at Campos' reply, Mylene asked him, "How many reunions has your class had since you graduated, Mr. Campos?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted.

"Hasn't there been a reunion held for your class at five-year intervals since your graduation?" Mylene pressed. "How many of those, now four reunions, have you attended, Mr. Campos?"

His tone was indignant when Campos replied, "I don't recall."

Mylene couldn't help chuckling before asking, "Mr. Campos, you don't remember attending the twentieth reunion of your class just last weekend?"

"Of course, I remember that reunion," Campos snapped. "It's the ones before that I don't remember."

Mylene retrieved a document from Lindsey's hands and turned back to Campos, "Understandable. It's easy to forget that which never happened. This attendance record provided by your class reunion committee shows that the reunion last weekend was the first one that you had attended, and that you bought your ticket for that reunion at the door the evening of the event."

Lindsey had obtained the attendee list from Marley to show that she, herself, had not attended any reunions out of a desire for privacy whenever she had returned to town. The list could now serve a different purpose.

Mylene continued, "So, tell us, Mr. Campos, being as interested as you were in learning when certain classmates might return to town, why was this the first reunion that you decided to attend? Was it because you had learned that Lindsey Norris might attend?"

"I...uh..." Campos stammered.

"Never mind, Mr. Campos," Mylene interrupted as she once more stepped back to the table to retrieve something that Lindsey was holding for her.

Holding up one of the photos in her hand for Campos to see, Mylene asked, "Mr. Campos, do you recognize the location where this picture was taken?"

The sign directing hikers to one of the paths leading to Amicalola Falls made identifying the location easy for anyone, but Mylene wanted to hear the witness admit it.

He did so, "It was obviously taken at Amicalola State Park."

"Excellent!" Mylene praised him. "Now, can you tell me if you recognize anyone in the photo?"

Campos didn't need to, but he made a show of studying the photo for several seconds before answering, "I recognize Emily Cline, I mean Bethel, and Lindsey Norris. I don't know the names of the two girls, but I'm pretty sure that they were Emily's daughters."

Mylene nodded before continuing, "And can you tell us what you would estimate the ages of the girls to be in that photo?"

Campos shrugged, "I don't know, maybe around four and seven?"

"Do you know how old those girls are currently?" Mylene asked.

Shaking his head, Campos had to be reminded to give only verbal responses to the questions asked of him. He said, "No, I don't."

Mylene took the photo back and added it to the stack of other photos still in her hand before stating, "They are fourteen and eleven, respectively. Can you use that information to help you determine when the picture from Amicalola Falls might have been taken?"

Mylene was surprised at how fast Campos did the math in his head, "If it was taken seven years ago, it was probably taken in 2019."

"It was, in fact, taken in July of 2019, Mr. Campos," Mylene confirmed. "Tell us, were you aware that Lindsey Norris had returned to the area around that time?"

Campos had to admit that he hadn't been aware of Lindsey's visit.

Mylene began laying multiple photos onto the railing in front of Rick Campos. When she had finished, she began pointing to each one as she asked, "Did you know that Lindsey Norris had returned to the area at this time? Or, at this time? Or, how about this time?"

Continuing through the set of photos, Mylene got Campos to admit that he had been unaware of Lindsey returning to the area at least six times a year since Emily's oldest daughter had been born. She then showed him multiple photos of Lindsey in locations all around the world, accompanied by Emily and her daughters.

"As an experienced law enforcement officer," Mylene asked, "Is it your professional opinion that Lindsey Norris has maintained a lifelong relationship with the daughters of Chet and Emily Bethel?"

Campos couldn't deny it, so he didn't, "It is obvious from the photos that you have shown me that Lindsey Norris has maintained a relationship with the Bethel daughters. Yes."

"I have no further questions," Mylene stated as she retook her seat next to Lindsey.

Judge Roane interrupted the frantically whispered conversation occurring between Chet Bethel and his attorney, "Counselor, do you wish to present any further testimony?"

Ariel rose partially from her seat as she answered, "No, Your Honor."

Turning to address Mylene, the judge asked, "Mrs. Monroe, do you have anything?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Mylene said while rising. "I would like to call Lindsey Norris to testify."

Once Lindsey had been sworn in, Mylene wasted no time, "Let's cut to the core of the matter before the court. Miss Norris, knowing Emily Bethel as well as you did, can you explain to the court why she would want you to assume the custodial guardianship of her daughters rather than letting their father assume that role?"

"Because Emily knew that I loved Megan and Annie and that they loved me," Lindsey explained. "She never had that same confidence where Chet, her ex-husband, was concerned. Emily knew that her daughters would be as loved and protected with me as they had been with her."

"You have no children of your own. Is that correct?" Mylene asked. "What makes you believe that you would be a fit surrogate mother for these young girls?"

Lindsey became melancholy as she replied, "Other than their mother, there has been no one more devoted to and involved in the raising of Megan and Annie than me. I know what Emily wanted for her daughters out of life as well as what each girl's dream is for themselves. Those, of course, will likely change, but I will be there, beside them to guide them and encourage them to be the type of women that their mother would be proud of."

Mylene paused her questions to pick up a document from their table. She held it at her side as she said, "You've told us why Emily Bethel felt that you were the best choice to raise her daughters. Why do you believe that she had reservations about her ex-husband raising them? Was there anything specific that she mentioned to you which concerned her?"

"Objection, Your Honor," Ariel exclaimed. "Calls for hearsay."

"Sustained," the judge agreed.

Mylene simply grinned and handed the document in her hand to Lindsey before continuing, "Miss Norris, we have already established that Mr. Bethel had a background report run on you, and by his own admission, it provided no cause for concern related to your suitability to be the custodial guardian of his daughters. Do you recall that testimony?"

"Yes, I do," Lindsey stated.

"You knew about the background report being run on you, didn't you?" Mylene asked.

Lindsey nodded and replied, "Yes. The staff at The Piedmont Agency found it ironic that I would request a background report on the same person who had requested one on me."

It would have been more expedient, and certainly much more thorough for Lindsey to task Cecil with compiling a background report on Charles Bethel, but Lindsey wanted something to show to the court that would illustrate parity with what Chet's report had listed on her.

Mylene chuckled, "I can see where they might have found that circumstance a bit odd. Please tell us this: did the background report run on Mr. Bethel present any concerns related to his suitability to be the custodial guardian for his daughters, which you believe the court should be aware of?"

"I believe that would be for the court to decide," Lindsey quickly replied. "There was nothing of an illegal nature, per se, but there are, in my opinion, certainly some moral and ethical concerns evident."

Mylene pointed to the document in Lindsey's hands and asked, "Can you cite some examples?"

Quickly flipping a few pages, Lindsey found the spot she wanted, "One item of concern might be the fact that Mr. Bethel has sired five children that have been legally attributed to him through DNA paternity tests. There are apparently two other claims of paternity against him outstanding, one of these involving an underage mother."

Frowning, Mylene asked, "Are you telling the court that Mr. Bethel, in addition to the two daughters that he is seeking custody of, has three, and possibly five additional children. Has he remarried since his divorce from Emily Bethel?"

"No," Lindsey replied while turning the pages of the document. "All the children, other than Megan and Annie, have been born to a different woman that Mr. Bethel was not married to. Then, there are the documented gambling activities that Mr. Bethel partakes in. While he has somehow been able to cover his extensive gambling losses, it raises concerns over his ability to do so in the future without assistance from the funds bequeathed to his daughters."

Judge Roane interjected, "Counselor, may I see these two different background reports?"

"Of course, you honor," Mylene said. "I have copies for the court as well as for opposing counsel."

Lindsey sat patiently as her attorney went to their table and retrieved copies of both background reports from The Piedmont Agency. She doubted that Chet and his attorney needed a copy of the report on her, but she saw Mylene provided one to them regardless, before presenting a copy of each to Judge Roane.

When the copies had been delivered to all the interested parties, Mylene said, "I have no further questions, Your Honor."

Judge Roane glanced up from the reports and said, "Let's take a ten-minute break to allow me a chance to review these reports before continuing."

When it became apparent that Lindsey was going to just wait out the break by sitting on the witness stand, Mylene walked over to stand in front of her. Since Judge Roane had also remained behind her bench while reviewing the reports, Mylene spoke softly when asking Lindsey, "Are you ready for the fun part?"

Lindsey shrugged, "I think that we both know where she will head with her questions. Thanks to your earlier objection, she will have to tread carefully with her questions on my sexual orientation, but we both know that it will be brought up. Where my financial situation is concerned, I put some things in motion this morning before court that will allow me to honestly prove my financial viability while not divulging too much."

"Good," Mylene said. "Remember to play with your right earring if you want me to interrupt to give you a pause at any time."

Before Lindsey could reply, Judge Roane rapped her gavel and said, "If everyone is ready, we can go back on record. Miss Brenner, do you have any questions for the witness?"

Ariel paused the conversation that she had been having with Chet Bethel long enough to respond, "Yes, Your Honor."

Judge Roane said, "Very good. You may proceed when ready."

Ariel attempted not to be adversarial, but her tone betrayed her from her very first question, "Miss Norris, where is your official residence of record?"

Lindsey tilted her head as she studied Chet's attorney, and tried to imagine her as the real-life manifestation of the Little Mermaid from the Disney cartoon. She was certainly as cute as the cartoon character that shared her name, with her flowing red hair, perfect facial features, and shapely figure. Unfortunately, this Ariel also came with the smile of the shark from the same cartoon, and that diminished her beauty considerably in Lindsey's eyes.

After deciding how to best answer Ariel's question, Lindsey said, "My legal residence as of right now is my townhouse in Salem, New Hampshire."

"That's quite a distance from here, isn't it?" Ariel snidely asked.

"I suppose it would be if that was where I was currently living," Lindsey calmly replied. "My official residence, as you called it, and my current residence are not the same."

Ariel was not to be derailed. She asked, "The fact remains, does it not, that you have no residence of your own in Murray County or anywhere else in the State of Georgia?"

Shaking her head, Lindsey replied, "I own the residence on Ridge Drive in Spring Place where I grew up. I purchased it from my parents to help supplement their retirement. Although they spend at least six months out of the year at their condo in Florida, the house in Spring Place is their permanent residence of record and I am certain that I would be welcomed to call it my home at any time."

"But you do not live there?" Ariel argued.

Lindsey simply answered, "No. I am currently living with Megan and Annie Bethel in the home that they had shared with their mother prior to her death. I believe this provides some needed stability for the girls right now."

"The house owned by my client?" Ariel queried.

Lindsey countered, "I believe that if you check with the country recorder's office, you will see that the house in question is held in lien by First Assurance Mortgage, with Emily Bethel listed as the owner on the deed of trust. Once the Letter of Administration for her estate is approved by the probate court, the deed for the house will be transferred into the trust established for her daughters. Mr. Bethel's only ties to the house are his obligations to make the mortgage payments until the debt is satisfied, or his daughters have both reached the age of 18."

Not to be dissuaded, Ariel snidely asked, "Won't you living in the house with Mr. Bethel's daughters effectively provide you with free housing?"

Shrugging, Lindsey said, "No freer housing than what his ex-wife and daughters enjoyed since the divorce. My house in Spring Place, that was my parents', as well as my townhouse in New Hampshire, are paid off, and the apartment in Massachusetts was available to me rent-free. So, I guess you could say that I have multiple options for free housing. I am choosing, at this time, to make life as easy as possible for Megan and Annie. I would think that their father would appreciate that."

When Lindsey's educational and career background proved too impressive to challenge, Ariel took a different tack. Questions that were obviously intended to discredit Lindsey as not being financially knowledgeable enough to administer the funds of the Bethel girls were answered properly and with demonstrated expertise in financial management, investing, and trust administration.

Honing in on Lindsey's employment status, Ariel asked, "Can you tell the court how you intend to remain employed at a company over a thousand miles from Spring Place?"

Lindsey smiled, "I don't. As fortune would have it, two weeks ago, I accepted a buy-out from my company and took an early retirement."

Ariel couldn't hide her glee as she asked, "Are you telling this court that you intend to live off Social Security retirement while residing in a house being paid for by my client and providing for yourself and his daughters with the funds bequeathed to them by their mother?"

Laughing, Lindsey replied, "How old do you think I am? I can tell you that I have more than two decades to go before I would be eligible to collect Social Security. I can also assure you that every cent that Emily intended to go to her daughters will go entirely to her daughters. None of it will be used to provide for them, but instead will be held in trust for them until their twenty-fifth birthdays as Emily had requested."

Huffing, Ariel asked, "She requested, did she? How could Mrs. Bethel know that the funds wouldn't be required to support her daughters unless she had intended for them to be raised by their father, who could provide for them?"

"She knew because she knew me," Lindsey snapped. "Emily knew my financial situation as well as I knew hers. She knew that everything that I have in this world would be dedicated to supporting her daughters if the need ever arose. Well, it has arisen, and I will not let my best friend or her daughters down."

Ariel threw up her arms in dramatic fashion as she asked, "How? Wishing won't make it so, Miss Norris."

Sighing, Lindsey calmed herself before answering, "If the twenty-thousand dollars which I receive each month from an annuity that I established to fund my retirement isn't adequate, I will increase the amount until it is adequate. The fact that the background report that your client paid for wasn't able to see my financial status doesn't mean that it isn't enough to meet the needs of me and Emily's daughters. My attorney has a notarized financial statement for me should the court wish to review it."

"I would like to see it," Ariel declared.

Mylene rose, "I object. The personal financial details of my client are of no concern to any party here other than the court itself, Your Honor. Should Your Honor wish to review the details, we are happy to share them, but we ask that they remain private."

Extending her hand, Judge Roane simply said, "Please."

Having already retrieved the financial statement, Mylene quickly delivered it to the judge. Her experienced eye allowed Judge Roane to quickly identify the most relevant section of the statement.

Judge Roane momentarily choked when she saw the figure but recovered quickly, "The court finds that the financial status of Lindsey Norris is more than adequate to favorably position her to support the minor children in this case without the need to use the monies bequeathed to them by their mother. You may move on, Miss Brenner."

"Miss Norris," Ariel asked in obvious frustration, "Weren't you and Emily Bethel more than mere friends?"

"I believe that we both thought of each other as more than mere friends," Lindsey happily admitted.

Ariel pounced, "Were you in love with Emily Bethel?"

Lindsey nodded, and everyone could see the tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she answered, "I loved Emily as much as I have ever loved any person in my life."

"So, you and Emily Bethel were lovers," Ariel offered.

"Objection, Your Honor," Mylene exclaimed. "Counsel is leading the witness."

"Sustained," Judge Roane agreed.

Ariel sighed and asked, "Miss Norris, were you and Emily Bethel lovers?"

"No, we were not," Lindsey affirmed. "Emily was, and I still am, strictly heterosexual."

"Oh, come on," Ariel challenged. "Isn't it true that you and Emily Bethel frequently shared the same bed, sometimes with you both sleeping in the nude?"

Lindsey nodded as she answered, "Sharing a bed was something that Emily and I had done frequently since we were eleven years old. It made it more convenient for two best friends to lie awake and share things with each other than if we were in separate beds, or worse, in separate rooms. Sleeping together while nude was a rarity over the years and hadn't happened since we were both in college, when we were on vacation together and our luggage had gotten lost.

"Emily and I were like sisters. We shared a platonic love and sisterly bond for most of our lives. It is that bond that qualifies me more than anyone else to raise Emily's daughters as she would have done herself."

Thirty minutes later, Judge Roane agreed.

Chapter Ten

From the first time that Paul had seen her, standing beside that lake, he had imagined that Lindsey's smile alone had a million tales to tell. When she smiled at him in the way that she was right now, her obvious love for him flowed from her. It was a beautiful thing to see at any time.

Paul suspected that the sun would not rise if Lindsey was out and about, because when she looked at him that way, her beauty would easily outshine it.

Lindsey couldn't help it. Watching Paul interacting with the girls, but in particular, Megan, brought back so many memories of how he had been so devoted to her that summer years ago. How he had encouraged and supported her, making her feel protected and like the most precious being on Earth while not being coddled or sheltered. He had allowed her to be thoughtful and curious rather than fragile and withdrawn.

She witnessed the same traits in him today with Megan and Annie. There was nothing that they could not try, or a feeling that they couldn't express, where Paul hadn't protected and encouraged them. From bobbing for apples at the Apple Festival to driving go-karts and exploring antique cars at the Moonshine Festival, the girls seemed to instinctively recognize that with Paul there with them, they would be both safe and successful.

With Annie on Paul's shoulders and Megan glued to his side as they toured the car show, Lindsey thought, "They're going to love him almost as much as I do."

It was cathartic to openly think about and consider her love for Paul Eddy. It was exhilarating to spend time with him in places where she could openly express her feelings. Holding his hand or wrapping her arms around his waist as they walked side-by-side, brushing donut crumbs off of his chin, sitting on his lap as they watched the girls, and every other display of public affection that had always seemed foreign to Lindsey were now hers to enjoy with this man.

Initially, Lindsey had been disappointed when Paul had been dismissive of her text messages following the custody hearing yesterday morning. His replies had taken longer than normal, and been far more abbreviated than his typically short responses already were. She had wanted to meet him for lunch, but he had begged off, claiming that he had a lunch meeting with another judge.

It wasn't until Janice had asked Lindsey to come by her office to get copies of the Letters of Administration, which had been signed by the probate judge, that she had realized Paul's efforts that day on her behalf. His lunch meeting had been with Judge Moore and Judge Roane, where the details of the custody hearing decision were shared.

Judge Moore didn't report to Paul, but he did see the advantage of agreeing with him that there should be no further delay in signing the Letters of Administration, which would legally appoint Lindsey Norris as the executor of Emily Bethel's estate. This, Judge Moore, had done as soon as his lunch meeting was over and he had returned to his office in Dalton.

Somehow, Lindsey had managed to remain focused on Emily's estate issues during the three hours that she and Janice had spent discussing them Friday afternoon. Her developing plans for retribution against Chet Bethel had helped Lindsey pay attention to the details and the suggested sequence of necessary tasks that the probate process would entail.

While none of the tasks related to her personal property were urgent, they went hand-in-hand with other tasks that did need to get taken care of soon. Things like getting her driver's license transferred from New Hampshire to Georgia and establishing a local financial institution that she could work with for both hers and Emily's accounts going forward.

What Lindsey didn't discuss with Janice were all the tasks that she needed to consider related to her own life. Those were things that she already knew she would want to discuss with Paul more than anyone else. Well, Paul, and to some extent Megan and Annie.

There were certain things that Lindsey was already convinced were definite, such as her putting her townhouse in New Hampshire on the market. She knew that it was not a suitable home for her and the girls, and especially her, now that Paul was in her life. Likewise, her personal car, a Mercedes roadster, while fun to drive, it wasn't a practical family vehicle, and she had a family now, without question.

Instinctively, Lindsey knew that she would do more than merely discuss things with Paul. She would consciously seek his input and opinions on matters.

With her company, Lindsey made all the decisions herself. She would politely listen to the ideas of others, but she would seldom seek them. This same trait had been present in her personal life since her earliest childhood, with Emily being the only person, besides her parents, that Lindsey would ever consider taking advice from. She had trusted Emily, and she trusted Paul.

The phone call from Mylene that came right after Lindsey had arrived home from picking the girls up from school was the best news of the day. Learning that Ariel Brenner had convinced Chet Bethel not to appeal the custody decision meant that any potential conflict of interest claims related to Paul hearing a future appeal were not going to be an issue. Lindsey and Paul could be seen together in public without repercussions to him as the Chief Judge. Hence, their open and expressive affection being visibly on display today.

Paul shepherded Annie and Megan around the car show but never lost track of where Lindsey was as she wandered behind them, viewing the cars and other exhibits at her own pace. He had noticed the strange man paying rapt attention to Lindsey but had dismissed it as simple male admiration for a beautiful woman. When the man approached Lindsey, obviously intent on speaking with her, Paul stopped and turned to watch.

"Excuse me," the man said to Lindsey as he pointed in the direction of Paul and the girls. "I noticed you with those two girls earlier at the parade and was wondering if you are all together."

Lindsey glanced at the man and saw nothing threatening in his demeanor, but she was curious about his question.

She replied, "Yes, we are here together. Is there some reason for your interest?"

"I'm sorry," the man said as he extended his hand. "My name is Ryan Powell, and I think that I recognize those girls as the daughters of someone that I know. I was curious to know if they were Emily Bethel's daughters, and if they are, if she might also be here with you all."

Trying to hide her surprise, Lindsey asked, "How do you recognize Emily's daughters?"

Ryan Powell exuded professionalism, but he was casually dressed, which was expected for a weekend day at a car show. He was around Lindsey's age, or maybe a year or two older, with pleasant features and a warm smile framed by a neatly trimmed beard and mustache.

"She once showed me several pictures of them," Ryan explained. "Emily and I were working on a project together. I am the Deputy Chief Appraiser for Gilmore County, and we have become well acquainted over the past few months. Is Emily here with you?"

Lindsey paused to consider what this man was telling her. It made perfect sense that Emily would be working on a project with a Deputy Chief Appraiser for one of the local counties. What was interesting, though, was that the county seat for Gilmore County was Ellijay, the location for the Apple Festival that Emily might have been heading to when she was killed.

Noticing Paul taking a few steps towards where she was standing, Lindsey held up a hand as a signal for him to not come any closer. She didn't want the girls to overhear the conversation that was about to occur.

"Do you mind telling me when the last time was that you communicated with Emily?" she asked Ryan.

Confusion was evident on his face, but Ryan answered, "It was about two weeks ago. October 8^th, if I remember right. We had a meeting to discuss the project and then went to lunch with a couple of the county commissioners afterwards. I have tried to call her a few times since then for an update, but her phone reports being out of service, and her e-mails have gone unanswered. Is Emily okay?"

Checking again to make certain that Paul had the girls out of earshot, Lindsey told Ryan, "No, she's not. Emily died from injuries that she sustained in a vehicle accident. My name is Lindsey Norris. I was Emily's best friend, and she had named me as the executor for her estate and custodial guardian for her daughters. That's why they are with me here today."

"Oh, my God!" Ryan exclaimed. "That explains why I haven't heard from her. Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

"I'll tell you if you don't mind answering a few questions for me first," Lindsey offered.

When Ryan simply nodded in affirmation, Lindsey said, "Emily died in a single car accident while she was apparently on her way to Ellijay to meet with someone. Do you know who she might have been planning to meet with?"

"When was this?" Ryan asked suspiciously. "I wasn't aware of any meetings related to our project being scheduled, and since I am heading it up for the county, any discussions on it should have been arranged through me."

Lindsey had to recall the date before answering, "Sunday, October 11^th. The accident occurred between two-thirty and two forty-five that afternoon on Highway 52."

"This is a county government project," Ryan muttered. "No one involved would be meeting to discuss it on a Sunday afternoon, I am sure of that. Are you sure that she was heading to Ellijay?"

"Who is she?"

At the sound of an angry woman's voice, Lindsey turned to see who had spoken and to learn why the tone was so hostile-sounding. Moving to stand beside Ryan and wrapping his right arm possessively in both of her own arms, was a plain-looking woman of indistinguishable heritage. Standing almost as tall as Ryan, the woman had what Lindsey would generously call an athletic, masculine physique. She could have been of Mediterranean, Middle Eastern, or even Native American descent, but the jealous rage evident on her face detracted from one's ability to appreciate anything else about her.

His face red with embarrassment, Ryan used his left hand to gently pat one of the woman's arms as he said, "Shelly, this is... I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."

Lindsey didn't bother extending her hand towards the woman. She addressed Ryan directly, "Lindsey Norris."

"Right," Ryan quickly agreed. "Shelly, this is Lindsey Norris. She was just telling me some tragic news about a friend of hers who had been doing some contract work for Gilmore County. Miss Norris, this is my wife, Michelle."

She couldn't see the woman's left hand due to how tightly she had her arms wrapped around her husband's right arm, but Lindsey could see that Ryan Powell didn't have a wedding band on his left hand. Lindsey knew several men who didn't like wearing rings, but these were typically tradesmen who worked extensively with their hands. She wondered momentarily why someone with a county government desk job would be averse to wearing a wedding ring.

Before Lindsey could even mutter, "Pleased to meet you," she was cut off by Ryan's wife.

"Informing you of someone's death is a piss poor excuse for her to be flirting so brazenly with a married man in public. I think we can move on now."

Once more clearly embarrassed by his wife's hostile attitude, Ryan said, "Please offer my condolences to her daughters." He then asked, "Do you know if anyone will be assuming her contracts? I'm sure the county commissioners are going to want to know how this will impact our project."

"Ryan!" his wife growled. "You can talk business with this woman on Monday, preferably over the phone. Let's go."

Michelle Powell didn't wait for a response before literally dragging her husband away. He glanced back over his shoulder at Lindsey with an imploring expression that she interpreted as "Please get in touch with me next week."

Lindsey quickly pulled out her cell phone and entered a note to call Ryan Powell at the Gilmore County Auditor's Office on Monday. She snickered to herself as she thought, "If he isn't in jail for murdering his wife by then."

Putting her phone away, Lindsey saw that Megan, and Paul, with Annie still on his shoulders, had started walking again. She stepped up her pace to join them before they reached the end of this row.

~~~

"You can't tell me that you are surprised that another woman felt threatened by you?" Paul chuckled. "Don't you ever look at yourself in a mirror?"

Lindsey pushed against his chest playfully, as she said, "Oh, stop it! There was no reason for her to act the way that she did. Sure, the car show crowd might have forced us to stand closer together than in other circumstances, but you still could have had another person walk between us, the gap was that large."

They were once more sitting on the couch in the living room after the girls had gone to bed for the evening. Lindsey was relating the conversation that she had at the car show with Ryan Powell and the bizarre behavior of his wife.

Paul offered, "Maybe he has given her a reason to be suspicious. You said that he wasn't wearing a wedding ring, so maybe he is a player, and she tries to nip things in the bud when she sees them unfolding in front of her."

"Possibly," Lindsey conceded. "But I don't care whether his wife likes it or not, I'm going to call him at work on Monday to learn more about the project that Emily was working on with him. The coincidence that the project is where she was likely heading when she died needs to be explained for me to dismiss it as inconsequential."

Paul knew that Lindsey had to have a best friend's knowledge of Emily Bethel that no one likely did. He also suspected that some of the things that Lindsey knew about her friend would go to the grave with her. Secrets that would have only been shared between best friends.

As demonstrated by Lindsey's explanation about why Emily would not have been on her way to go shopping on a Sunday, there were likely several other quirks, habits, preferences, or common routines that had been a part of Emily's life that Lindsey would know before anyone else would. Paul sensed that these personal details about her friend would be shared only on a "need-to-know" basis by Lindsey. If the investigators didn't know the questions to ask, Lindsey would probably never give them the answers.

While they had never discussed it, Paul instinctively knew that trust was sacrosanct for Lindsey, and it was a two-way street. Emily's death would not sever the bond of trust that had existed between the two friends.

Gently stroking Lindsey's hair, Paul suggested, "You might want to mention your suspicions about where Emily was headed and this Gilmore County project to the GBI agents."

"I was thinking about that," she admitted. "Since Ryan Powell was unaware of Emily's death, it seems clear, to me at least, that the investigators haven't made any connection between where she was heading that day and what her business was in Ellijay that might have motivated her trip."

Pausing his caresses of Lindsey's hair, Paul asked, "I thought that you were certain that her trip couldn't have been work-related since it had been on a Sunday?"

Lindsey was insistent, "I do believe that. I should have said 'what her purpose was'. But that doesn't mean that she couldn't have been heading to meet someone that she had been working on the project with for reasons that weren't work-related. Didn't I mention that she had confided in me about meeting someone that she couldn't consider a possible relationship with until after her work with his organization was complete? No, wait, it was Karly and Marly that I mentioned it to."

"Something else that you should probably mention to the GBI agents," Paul declared. "You don't want them to learn that you have information that you are keeping from them, even if the reason is because they didn't ask you the right questions."

Agents Ramsey and McConnell certainly hadn't instilled a lot of confidence in Lindsey, but she knew that Paul was right. She had to share the information on Emily's project in Gilmore County with the GBI agents as well as her expressed interest in someone who worked for one of her clients. Lindsey would take the opportunity to query the agents about their access to Emily's accounts.

If they were still dragging their feet, she might decide to give Cecil the green light to work his magic and grab copies of all the documents on Emily's cloud server and get some investigators of her own working the case without waiting for the GBI. Learning whether the documents held any clues to Emily's murder was secondary in Lindsey's mind to learning if there might be something to indicate a potential threat against Megan and Annie. It was unlikely, but Lindsey was not the type to leave that stone unturned or sit idly by waiting for others.

Thinking of Megan and Annie reminded Lindsey of something that she wanted to ask Paul, "Are you doing anything next Saturday?"

Paul didn't understand the sudden change in topic, but he was okay with it. He had a purposely insouciant tone when he replied, "I have a date on Saturday night, but other than that, my day is free. Why?"

Biting his tongue to keep from laughing at Lindsey's tensing body on his lap. Paul patiently awaited the icy response that his disclosure was certain to receive from her.

Lindsey didn't disappoint him as she quickly slid off his lap, stood, and headed for the kitchen, muttering to him over her shoulder, "Never mind. It isn't important."

Following Lindsey into the kitchen, Paul found her preparing the coffee maker for the morning. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, asking, "Don't you want to know who my date is with?"

Stepping out of his arms, Lindsey replied in a snarky tone, "Your personal life is none of my concern. I don't care who you date."

Paul moved in behind her and resumed his previous position, softly saying, "Even if my date is with a teenage girl?"

Pausing her efforts with the coffee maker, Lindsey asked gingerly, "What are you talking about?"

"You wanted to know what I was doing on Saturday because you wanted my assistance with the girls on Halloween, right?" Paul asked before explaining, "Megan already asked me to drive her to the dance at her school on Saturday. She wants her male classmates to see me dropping her off so that they realize that there is a man in her life to look out for her if they get disrespectful."

Lindsey laughed, both out of relief, and from Megan's recognition of what an intimidation factor someone like Paul would be for most teenage boys. It had been her plan to take Megan to the dance on Saturday herself for basically the same reason. Lindsey was going to ask Paul to stay with Annie while she took Megan. She now liked Megan's idea better. Paul would definitely be much more intimidating to teenage boys than she would.

Her heart fluttered joyfully upon realizing that Megan had already positioned Paul as someone who would be in her life that she would be able to rely upon and trust. Remembering the conversation that she and the girls had shared about Paul just a few nights ago, Lindsey smiled at their acceptance of her and Paul being a couple before it had become the reality it now definitely was.

Turning to place her arms around Paul's neck, Lindsey leaned up to kiss him before stating, "We have a lot to discuss. Unless you have something to do in the morning that would make it a challenge for you, I would really appreciate it if you would spend the night here with me."

Paul pondered Lindsey's request. He couldn't deny that beside her, day or night, was where he knew that he was supposed to be. He had known it for days. Where he was supposed to be and where he should be weren't as clear to him.

From a strictly practical perspective, Paul wasn't prepared to spend the night away from his apartment. He had brought nothing with him to facilitate sleeping elsewhere, and especially not if it involved sharing a bed with Lindsey. No change of clothes, no toothbrush, no condom.

Laughing internally, he silently joked that he could always turn his underwear inside out if a change of clothes ever became an issue, which he doubted it would. Paul had brushed his teeth using toothpaste on his finger enough times in college that he was sure that he remembered how. Finally, Lindsey hadn't actually expressed an intent for them to have sex, and even if they did, she might have the protection aspect already covered.

The "night" was only one factor. Paul asked, "Are you sure that you're ready to explain me being here in the morning to Megan and Annie?"

Still holding him in her arms, Lindsey smirked and said, "After our time together today, I would have a harder time explaining why you weren't here in the morning. I have sensed the girls having expectations for you and me for a while. I don't have any problem with that. Do you?"

"Let's go back out to the living room and discuss expectations," Paul suggested.

Lindsey didn't argue, but simply let Paul lead her back to the couch, where she resumed her place on his lap. She asked, "The expectations of the girls aside, where would you like to start?"

Kissing the tip of Lindsey's nose, Paul admonished, "That won't work. Not yet. Right now, everything is too new, fresh, and raw. Neither of us is fully prepared to clearly understand, let alone articulate, what is a hope versus what is an expectation in most things that matter between us."

Lindsey knew that Paul was right. While she could confidently say that she expected to love him for the rest of her life, living together with him was simply a hope right now. They needed to devote the time to understanding what each of them, and now the girls, needed before setting expectations that might only lead to disappointment.

Sensing Lindsey's silent contemplation of his statement, Paul paused a few moments before continuing, "For example, I hope that you realize that I'd always choose you. In a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality. I'd find you, and I'd choose you. It's unrealistic for me to expect you to realize my devotion to you, and by extension, the girls right now, but my hope is that you do come to expect that from me someday soon."

Lindsey wanted to explain that she knew what she could expect from him, and her greatest and sincerest hope right then was that Paul knew what he could expect from her.

The sudden explosion as something crashed through the living room window derailed all conversation. Paul sensed rather than felt the eruption of flame at the back of the couch and quickly jumped up with Lindsey in his arms, with only a few singed hairs on the back of his neck.

"Paul!" Lindsey screamed as her feet finally found purchase on the living room floor.

Paul forcefully turned Lindsey towards the stairs, yelling, "Go get the girls! Then call 9-1-1. I'll grab the hose from out front and try to slow down the fire."

Lindsey didn't argue about the futility of Paul trying to fight the rapidly spreading flames with the garden hose. Her fear was palpable, as intense as the heat that was quickly spreading towards her. She sprinted towards the stairs but had only ascended two steps when she heard a sound that froze her. Was that a gunshot?

She turned and saw Paul quickly slamming the front door closed before squatting and ducking around a corner while bullet holes continued to appear through the wooden door.

"For Christ's sake, Lindsey! Get the girls out the back. Now!" Paul screamed while pulling his own cell phone out of his pocket. He had a nine-millimeter Beretta strapped in an ankle holster but no target for it yet. He didn't want to get into a gun battle unless it was necessary to get Lindsey and the girls to safety.

The screams from downstairs had alerted both girls to something happening. Lindsey found Megan and Annie together in the shared bathroom with wide eyes of excited fear evident.

Lindsey didn't know what to explain to them, so she didn't try. She simply pulled both girls into Megan's room, and directed them to the window.

"Out!" was the single command that she screamed at them. "Megan, you go first."

With the confidence borne from regular fire drills that their mother had made them run, Megan quickly raised the sliding lower portion of the window and punched the screen away. She positioned herself to sit on the base of the window sill with her legs dangling over the outside.

The gravely surface of the patio cover roof would feel rough on her bare feet, but Megan knew from experience that if she landed flat on her feet when dropping the four feet from the window, she wouldn't get scraped too badly.

As soon as she had landed, Megan turned and prepared to assist her younger sister with her descent. Annie stumbled briefly when landing, but Megan caught and supported her easily.

Lindsey was debating whether to follow the girls or to return to try and help Paul get out downstairs. There were no more sounds of gunshots that Lindsey could hear, but she knew that Paul would not be foolish enough to risk going out the front door to retrieve the hose.

Smelling the smoke that was already beginning to seep under the closed bedroom door made the decision for her. She would get out from upstairs and then try to find a way into the house from the backyard. Quickly joining Megan and Annie on the roof of the patio cover, Lindsey briefly recalled Emily's description of the argument that she and Chet had about its design.

Chet had wanted to install a less expensive retractable awning over the patio to provide shade. Emily had argued that a more solid and permanent structure would serve to shade the patio while adding more value to the house. Money always being a major consideration where Chet was concerned, Emily had presented him with real estate appraisals for a house with both options to prove that the one she wanted would be a better investment in the long run.

Emily had known that her real reason for wanting a structural patio cover would have been dismissed by Chet as unnecessary. The fact that the patio roof structure would be built directly below their daughter's bedroom and would allow a means of escape in the event of a fire would have held no sway with Chet.

The divorce took Chet's desires out of the equation, and Emily had the patio cover that she wanted constructed, paying for it herself. She further designed the lattice work and landscaping that extended along one side of the patio cover, creating the decorative horizontal rungs between the lattice work that would serve as a ladder down from the roof if the need ever arose.

Megan helped Annie start down the ladder before quickly following her. The two girls stared in shock at the flames visible through the back door. The living room was fully aflame, with the fire starting to move up the lowest treads of the stairs.

Paul came out the back door just as Lindsey's feet dropped from the ladder.

"I called 9-1-1," Paul yelled. "But if whoever is shooting is still there when the fire department arrives, they won't be able to get near the house."

"Watch out!" Megan screamed, pointing to the sky above them.

Everyone turned and gaped as the flaming bottle that had been tossed over the fence landed and broke on the roof of the patio cover. The sound of breaking glass was followed immediately by the rush of flames as they rapidly spread across the gravelly surface of the roof.

Paul and Lindsey quickly ushered the girls away from the patio cover. Concerned that the gunshots which had followed the first Molotov cocktail through the living room window might soon also accompany this latest one, Paul searched the backyard for someplace to shield them. He bent and removed the gun from around his ankle, surprising Lindsey and the girls.

Seeing no suitable places in the yard that would protect them from bullets, Paul instructed, "All of you, get in the pool. I know it will be cold, but the water will slow down any bullets aimed at you. Hurry!"

"It will also help protect us from any more fire bombs!" Lindsey thought as she moved Megan and Annie towards the deepest end of the built-in swimming pool. She placed her cell phone onto the diving board to keep it dry when they all lowered themselves into the deep end of the pool.

Paul had been right. The water in the pool was cold. Lindsey had turned off the heater and filter days ago until the pool could be cleaned out of all the leaves. Those began affixing themselves to their clothes and exposed body parts as soon as each of them entered the littered water.

"Let's spread out a bit," Lindsey suggested. "Megan, you can hold onto the ladder rail over there if Annie holds onto the filter intake slot here. I can stay between you under the diving board."

The girls silently obeyed as Lindsey watched Paul take off his shoes before placing his cell phone on the pool deck while he kept his gun in his right hand, aimed in the direction of the gate. He backed down and squatted on the steps at the shallow end of the pool until only the top of his head was exposed above the side of the pool.

They could hear Paul speaking into his cell phone as it lay on the pool deck, but they couldn't make out his words clearly. Lindsey assumed that he was communicating with the 9-1-1 operator, providing a situation update and warning arriving responders about the armed assailant or assailants who had them currently pinned down in the pool.

For more than fifteen minutes, they remained in the cold, leaf-covered water, just listening and pondering who had attacked them and why. The sirens had stopped long ago, and all at a distance that indicated they had heeded the warnings about an active shooter and not approached the house, even as the fire continued to rage inside it.

There had been no additional gunfire, and no more fire bombs had appeared over the fence. Both good signs, but neither an assurance that it was safe for any of them to leave the limited protection of the pool. Flames were visible from the roof of the house now, which to Lindsey meant that the fire had consumed everything in the house between the living room and the roof.

Seeing Paul starting to step up the stairs and pick up his cell phone as he began exiting the pool, Lindsey motioned for Annie to join her at the ladder next to Megan. Three firefighters and what looked like two heavily armed sheriff deputies came through the gate just as Paul had stepped completely onto the pool deck. Lindsey took that as a sign that she and the girls could also get out.

Paul saw Lindsey and the girls climbing the ladder and hurried around the side of the pool to join them. Lindsey was the first to embrace him, followed immediately by the two girls. The group silently held each other for several minutes before Annie asked, "Who was trying to hurt us and why?"

The question was shared by all of them, but it was Lindsey who answered, "We don't know, but I promise you that I am going to find out."

Chapter Eleven

Lindsey sat on Paul's lap at the desk in the rental cottage as they read the report together on the computer screen.

"What does this tell us?" Paul asked Lindsey.

She had been reluctant to share the purloined report with Paul because she wasn't confident that Cecil had obtained it legally. Her concerns had been quickly dismissed when she accepted that Paul had not only a vested interest in learning the details on the attack against them, but he also had a vested interest in protecting her and the girls. Paul would not place the legal status of the report before the need to know what it contained.

"From what little research I have been able to do since picking up this new laptop," Lindsey explained. "It tells me, at least, that the devices were more sophisticated than simply a rag being stuffed into the neck of a bottle containing gasoline. The report shows that the bottles contained a mixture of diesel fuel and petroleum jelly. This was intentional, to make the resulting fire adhere to surfaces and also more resistant to any suppression efforts."

Nodding in understanding, Paul said, "So, likely a person with more than simple lay knowledge on incendiary devices. Anything more?"

Lindsey pointed to a spot on the report as she said, "It says that storm matches were used for the fuses. That also points to someone with more advanced knowledge. The combustible compound of the match extended more than halfway down its length, allowing it to burn stronger, for a longer period, and possibly even spontaneously re-ignite if it got extinguished somehow before the bottle broke, like if the wind blew it out."

"Again, denoting someone who had more than a 'YouTube' course in how to build a Molotov Cocktail," agreed Paul. "I don't suppose any of the components or anything can be easily traced?"

Shaking her head, Lindsey lamented, "Starting with the bottles, it looks like they were previously used wine bottles. The broken pieces have been too small so far for any usable fingerprints to be recovered. The report surmises that they likely came from bottles disposed of at one of the local wineries, but no indication yet as to which one. The diesel fuel and petroleum jelly are generic, so the most unique and possibly traceable item is the storm matches."

Paul asked, "Aren't storm matches typically used on marine vessels? Other than the smaller lakes and rivers in the area, where would there be much of a market for storm matches?"

Lindsey didn't want to sound sarcastic, but surely Paul knew that the Appalachian Trail began at Amicalola State Park. Didn't he? Then she saw the twinkling smile in his eyes, indicating his playfulness shining through.

"Very funny," Lindsey chided. "The report clearly states that the authorities are using the chemical characteristics of the combustible compound residue from the matches to try to identify the specific manufacturer. They hope that this will direct them to an outfitter operation in the area that sells the particular brand of matches and see if that helps them identify a suspect."

"Well," Paul said. "All that tells us is how the attack was done. It tells us nothing so far about the who and the why. Although, I suppose if we knew one of those, we could figure out the other."

What little the various law enforcement agencies had shared with them, combined with analyzing the questions asked of them, Lindsey and Paul decided that the authorities were working on two separate trains of thought.

The first one was that the attack on the house was somehow related to the murder of Emily Bethel. They couldn't explain why they thought this other than it was her former house that was attacked. Paul and Lindsey couldn't wrap their heads around this theory because the attack had come almost two weeks after Emily's murder, and they couldn't fathom any reason why attacking the house of a person already dead would benefit someone.

The second theory was almost as difficult to accept, and that was the idea that someone had targeted the occupants of the house at the time of the attack. As a judge, Paul could certainly have been the target of some disgruntled person that he had ruled against at some point. But how would that person have known to attack a house where Paul didn't live, and until recently, had no connection to?

That left Lindsey as the possible target for the attack. There had been some obvious animosity displayed towards her by the challenge to Emily's will by both the Clines and Chet Bethel, and of course the custody dispute with Chet. Was any of that sufficient motivation for someone to try to kill four people in a fire?

While law enforcement agencies looked into the possibilities, Lindsey had her mind put at ease by instructing Cecil to dissect the financials for Chet and all of the Clines. Assuming that none of them would have had either the skills or the audacity to launch the attack personally, Lindsey wanted to verify that none of them had paid to have the attack carried out for them.

Cecil did find that Chet had been secretly transferring money into hidden accounts, apparently in an effort to avoid paying more child support when the new paternity cases went to court, but there were no suspicious payments, transfers, or other transactions that could point to his possible involvement in the attack. The Clines were even cleaner.

If Paul and Lindsey knew who had attacked them, they could likely understand why. If they knew why they had been attacked, they could probably identify who had done it.

Kissing Lindsey's cheek before turning his attention back to the report, Paul asked, "Nothing on the gun used?"

"Only that it appears to have been a weapon that chambers a.223 Remington cartridge," Lindsey replied. "The most common of those is something like an AR-15. The report states that ballistics and analysis of the shell casings recovered are being performed by the ATF, and the results are pending."

"That's puzzling," Paul said. "Once the FBI determined that the attack wasn't likely terrorism related, I thought that the Feds would have backed off entirely and left the investigation to the GBI and local authorities. Why is the ATF still involved?"

Lindsey shrugged, "I guess maybe because they were the agency that started the testing on the weapon evidence, so everyone decided to just let them finish it. Does it matter?"

Nuzzling the back of Lindsey's neck as he spoke, Paul said, "Probably not. We should probably head out if you want to get the planned shopping done before picking the girls up from school."

It seemed to Lindsey that all that she had been doing for the past three days was shopping. Literally everything in the house had either been burned, damaged by smoke, or damaged by the water used to finally extinguish the fire. The house was a total loss, as were the cars in the garage and all of the girl's possessions and those of their deceased mother. So many memories that could not be replaced or recreated.

In between purchasing new clothes and other necessities for herself and the girls, Lindsey had also been dealing with insurance claims adjusters and investigators with every law enforcement agency from Murray County to Washington, DC.

Being able to immediately move back into the cottage had been their saving grace. It provided a safe and familiar residence for the girls and had the added benefit of placing Paul close enough to further reassure the girls of being safe there.

Paul, and the armed security that Lindsey had arranged through The Piedmont Agency. There were two guards in front of the cabin and two stationed at each girl's school or following their bus to and from. The hope was that this would be a visible deterrent to further attacks.

Paul had taken emergency time off from the court in order to dedicate his life to Lindsey and the girls when they needed someone. Since both Lindsey's rental car and the new Explorer that she had purchased for him were both destroyed in the fire, his Honda Ridgeline had served to transport the four whenever and wherever needed.

Their plan for this afternoon was to drive over to Dalton for Lindsey to check out a variety of new vehicles that she could consider for the permanent transportation needs of herself, Megan, and Annie, so that they wouldn't be dependent on Paul once he returned to work.

Lindsey was enjoying the feel of Paul's lips on her neck too much to immediately respond, but when he ceased his gentle teasing, she said, "The girls know to take the bus that goes by Karly's place today. Your sister told them that they could play on the trampoline after they finished any homework. Karly even offered to have them stay for dinner if you and I got delayed in Dalton."

"I'll be surprised if Karly lets Megan and Annie come home until next week sometime," Paul laughed. "Both of my sisters have been hinting at keeping the girls for a weekend so that 'Their brother and the woman that he is in love with can have some alone time together'."

"Oh?" Lindsey teased. "Are Marly and Karly's brother in love with some woman? And what would make your sisters believe that said woman would be interested in spending any alone time with their brother?"

Lifting Lindsey off of his lap so that he could stand, Paul replied, "What? You can't possibly believe that I am the only member of my family with brains. My two beautiful sisters are very perceptive, I'll have you know. Royal pains in the ass most of the time, but always perceptive."

Kissing Paul's cheek, Lindsey cooed, "Well, as a disinterested third party, I could see the benefit of their brother spending some alone time with this mythical woman that they believe he loves."

Before Paul could voice a retort, Lindsey pulled out her cell phone and said, "Hang on a minute. Let me check this text."

Quickly glancing at her phone's screen, Lindsey announced, "I need to make a phone call real quick. I can meet you at the truck?"

Paul kissed Lindsey's forehead and said, "Of course. Take your time."

Lindsey couldn't take her time. Recognizing how rare it was for Cecil to want to speak with her on the phone rather than through their typical e-mail and text communications wouldn't allow her to take her time. She had to learn what was so urgent.

"Miss Norris," Cecil Firth greeted when he answered Lindsey's call. "I have some information that I need to discuss with you about that cell phone number."

Lindsey didn't need to ask which cell phone number that Cecil was referring to. She said, "I didn't request any information on that number. I was going to keep calling it to find out who eventually answered it."

"I figured that was your plan," Cecil admitted. "I had some time on my hands and knew that you were tied up with more pressing matters due to the fire, so I thought that there was no harm in at least finding out who the number belonged to."

"I appreciate that, Cecil," Lindsey warmly replied. "I just don't want you doing your thing to come back and bite either of us in the ass. I mean, I trust that you are extremely discreet in your research, but I'm not as convinced that I will always be the same with any information that you share with me."

She heard his chuckling before Cecil asked, "Does that mean that you don't want the information that I found on that number?" He knew that she would definitely want it.

Sighing, Lindsey said, "Let me have what you learned."

Cecil began, "That particular phone number was in a block of NANPA numbers assigned to Verizon in 2017. Verizon assigned it to the..."

"What in the hell is a NANPA?" interrupted Lindsey. She hated acronyms, which was ironic since her own company was known primarily by the acronym, R.A.N.T.

"It stands for North American Numbering Plan Administration," explained Cecil. "Anyway, they assigned it within a block of ten thousand numbers back in 2017, and Verizon assigned it to a customer of theirs later that same year. The customer it was assigned to then still has it."

"I hope whoever it is, they aren't still using the same phone from nine years ago," Lindsey thought.

Cecil asked, "Do you want the name of the customer?"

"Go ahead," Lindsey acquiesced.

"Ryan Powell," Cecil announced. "Do you need me to spell any of it?"

"No fucking way!" a shocked Lindsey exclaimed to herself.

She asked, "Is there any way that the number could have been cloned or spoofed to indicate that the text came from that number instead of another phone?"

Cecil replied, "I considered that, so I decided to go onto Verizon's server and check. The last text communications with your friend's cell phone are definitely from this other phone. They can delete the messages from the phone itself, but they are still archived on the Verizon system."

~~~

When Lindsey hadn't come outside after ten minutes, Paul came looking for her. He found her still at her laptop, apparently searching the Internet for something. Peeking over her shoulder, the main website for Gilmore County was displayed.

Paul asked, "Are you through with your phone call?"

Lindsey glanced back at Paul over her shoulder and said, "Yes and no. Why don't you pull up another chair and I'll try to explain."

Hearing the anxiety in Lindsey's voice that hadn't been there when Paul had headed for his truck, he quickly pulled another chair over and placed it beside the one she was sitting in. "Tell me what's going on," he said once seated.

Turning away from the computer screen, Lindsey took one of Paul's hands into hers as she explained, "If you haven't figured it out yet, I possess a certain trait. Actually, now that I think about it, a trait that I credit you with instilling it in me. Ever since that summer when we met, I have never been satisfied to simply be a bystander with any part of my life. I need to be involved.

"It's not that I'm a control freak or refuse to delegate things to others. I couldn't have built my company without trusting people to do things for me. But even when delegating, I don't assign my responsibility to someone else. I stay informed and aware of the progress at all times, monitoring to ensure that goals remain the focus and expectations are met."

"That doesn't sound like a negative trait," Paul said. "I don't think you need to make any apologies for maintaining ownership of things that you feel responsible for."

Squeezing his hand, Lindsey said, "Oh, I'm not making apologies. I'm explaining why I haven't been able to simply sit back and wait for others to figure out what happened with Emily, or now, who attacked us at the house on Saturday. We've been sharing the report that I had someone get a copy of for me, but there is more that I have been having researched that you aren't aware of. Yet."

Paul thought back to his concerns about Lindsey possibly keeping secrets between her and Emily from the investigators when he said, "As long as you are not deliberately hiding anything from the authorities investigating the crimes, I have no problem with you checking into things on your own."

Lindsey stated emphatically, "I assure you, the investigators have the same clues that I have. I just don't think that they are doing as much to unravel them as me. Take the phone number from the next-to-last text that was on Emily's phone. Have you heard anything about them determining who it belongs to?"

Paul simply shook his head as he asked, "No, did you find out who it belongs to?"

"Before I answer that," Lindsey said, "I need you to be okay with knowing. I'm a private citizen with the right to research things freely as long as I don't impede an investigation, or, as you have mentioned, don't purposely withhold anything from the authorities. You're an elected judge, for crying out loud. What risks will you face if it becomes known that you obtained knowledge outside of the official investigation?"

"I'm at no risk," Paul assured her. "As long as I'm not the one seeking the information but merely someone who is made aware of it. You sharing it with me meets that criteria. So, who does the number belong to?"

Pointing to the computer screen while positioning the mouse pointer over a name in the county directory, Lindsey said, "This guy. He's the same guy who approached me at the car show asking about Emily. He didn't seem to know anything about why she would have been heading to Ellijay on a Sunday, and never mentioned anything about texting her that day."

"Maybe his phone number was spoofed by someone else," Paul offered while studying the name on the screen under "Deputy Chief Appraiser" on the Gilmore County website.

Lindsey shook her head, "The text message has already been verified as coming from his phone. The message still exists in the archive of his communications on the Verizon servers."

"Okay," Paul said. "You said that the guy told you that Emily had been working on a project for Gilmore County, and that is where this guy claimed to know her from. That would make their relationship work-related. If Emily wouldn't have been working on a Sunday, why would a text from this guy get her to start heading towards Ellijay?"

"Unless there was something more going on between them than the work project," Lindsey argued. "Emily had mentioned her interest in some guy that worked for one of her clients that she couldn't pursue until her work with them was done. This Ryan Powell could be that guy. Although, I can't picture any circumstances where Emily would ever consider getting involved with a married man."

Paul shrugged, "You said that he wasn't wearing a wedding band. Maybe Emily thought that he was single?"

Lindsey admitted, "That's possible. If I was a man, I wouldn't admit being married to that witch that was with him last Saturday. The question is, was he purposely deceitful about being married or did he just want to avoid the subject? I'm going to call him. Do you want to listen in?"

"Do you know if the investigators have made this connection yet?" Paul inquired. "You need to consider how you talking to this guy might influence the investigation if he learns that his communications with Emily was her next to last and he has time to develop his story about it."

Annoyed, Lindsey quipped, "I think that I have enough common sense and tact to keep the guy in the dark about the text while still questioning him on his relationship with Emily. I've already established the fact that she and I were best friends. I can say that I came across his name in some of her stuff and claim to be curious about them. Do you want to listen?"

Paul sighed, "If you start by trying to find out if he has been contacted by anyone else yet regarding Emily's death, I can agree with letting you talk to him about their relationship. If the investigators are ignoring him, as you suspect, then you playing the curious friend card shouldn't raise any suspicions for him or give him any reason to concoct a story for when they do contact him."

Lindsey asked, "And what if he has been contacted by the investigators already?"

"Then," Paul said, "You need to be careful to steer your conversation away from the investigation into Emily's murder and focus it strictly on your friendly curiosity about his possible relationship with her."

"I can do that," Lindsey assured him. "But let's use your phone. I think one of the reasons why he might not be answering when I call the cell number is because his caller ID sees a New Hampshire number calling and he thinks it's SPAM. You have a local number on your cell phone, so he is more likely to answer it."

Pointing to the computer screen, Paul said, "I thought that you were going to try calling him on his office phone."

"I am," Lindsey confirmed. "But it's likely that it will also display the incoming number, so using a local one would be better received by most people who are trying to screen out unwanted calls."

Extending her hand in anticipation of Paul surrendering his phone to her, Lindsey added, "It's almost eleven-thirty. Hopefully, he hasn't left for lunch yet."

Paul unlocked his cell phone, handed it to Lindsey, and then silently sat beside her to wait while she dialed the number for Ryan Powell's office phone. Upon hearing the first ring, Lindsey hit the speaker icon and set the phone on the desk.

There was just the slightest beginning of a second ring when a bored disembodied voice answered, "Ryan Powell."

Wanting to sound friendly, but not joyful; interested but not anxious, Lindsey focused on keeping her voice professional as she replied, "Good morning. This is Lindsey Norris. We met briefly last Saturday at the car show. I was hoping that we might continue our conversation about Emily Bethel, if you have a few minutes."

When the sound of music-on-hold appeared, Lindsey glanced at Paul in confusion. Before either comment on this action, Ryan Powell was back on his phone, "I'm sorry, Miss Norris. I wanted to close my office door so that we wouldn't be interrupted."

The explanation of Powell wanting to close his office door to prevent interruption wasn't concerning to Paul and Lindsey. The abrupt and secretive manner in which he carried out the action was. It was almost as if he didn't want anyone else to learn of this conversation. They might have to explore that some during this call.

Lindsey replied, "I understand. I have been going through some of Emily's files and communications related to her work, trying to see what projects need to be reassigned. She employed some code names for select projects, so I was hoping that you could share more information on what she was working on with Gilmore County so that I could possibly identify it."

The reality was that Cecil had not yet provided Lindsey with all of Emily's files from her cloud server. He had managed to access everything without needing to trigger the dual-factor authentication required for normal access, but the volume of data on the server had made sharing everything online problematic. The one-terabyte external SSD drive with everything on it was due to arrive later that day.

Powell asked suspiciously, "Are we talking about the same Emily Bethel? She told me that she only worked on one project at a time."

"Of course, she did," Lindsey conceded. "However, her records do not indicate which case was the active one at the time of her death versus those cases that were pending her attention. I need to review the details and complexity of every open case in order to make recommendations on who best to reassign them to..."

"You can't do that," Powell interrupted. "From talking with Emily, I know that most of her cases are contract projects with a government agency or similar. To be awarded the contract, she had to go through a bidding and selection process with each of those entities. If Emily had a partner or associate capable of taking over the project that was awarded to her, that would be one thing. It can't simply be reassigned to another contractor without repeating the original awards process. Did she have someone else working with her? From our conversations, I always assumed that she was the sole proprietor of her firm."

Emily having shared so much about herself and her work with this guy only served to reinforce Lindsey's belief that he might be the man that Emily had expressed an interest in. Emily was too reserved and private to share information freely with just anyone. It also told Lindsey that she had to be careful in what she tried to put past Ryan Powell in her effort to get information from him.

She replied, "Yes, I know how Emily worked. As the executor of her estate, I have the responsibility to make certain that any retainers or payments made for uncompleted projects that Emily had either active or pending get refunded during the probate process. To that end, I will ask again if you know what code name she might have used for her project with Gilmore County?"

There was silence for several moments. Lindsey was beginning to wonder if she might have hit a tripwire of sorts with something that Emily might have shared with him but not with her best friend. Powell finally asked, "I don't know, but is there anything in her files named after a dog or dog-related?"

"What the hell?" Lindsey thought. Emily hadn't had a dog since she had been a teenager, a feisty female toy poodle that had the temperament of a demon on a sugar high. Emily had left the dog with the Clines when she had left for college and never gave the dog a second thought after that. Why would Powell think that Emily would use anything related to a dog as a code word for one of her projects?

Lindsey hid her disbelief when she said, "I can look through the files to see, but do you mind me asking why you would think that she might have used anything related to a dog? Emily didn't have a dog."

There was an audible sigh before Powell explained, "Beyond the project that Emily was contracted to complete for Gilmore County, her and I had become; I don't want to imply anything, but we had become, I guess 'acquainted' would be a suitable term for it. We would meet to discuss the project, and then it seemed like we would frequently venture naturally off into different subjects. One of those subjects would often be dogs."

"I still don't understand," Lindsey stammered. "Why dogs?"

Powell explained, "One day, while we were having lunch after our weekly meeting on the project, Emily saw someone with a toy poodle and mentioned that she used to have one that looked very similar to the one she had just seen..."

"Tiger Lily," Lindsey interrupted. "That was the name of Emily's poodle."

"Right," Powell acknowledged before continuing, "Anyway, she mentioned that she would like to get a dog for herself and her girls - that's when she showed me pictures of her daughters. We started discussing different breeds of dogs, and that's when I told Emily that I was a conformation judge for all dog groups as well as a Best in Show judge with the American Kennel Association. She became excited and asked for my assistance in helping her decide on which breed of dog that she should eventually get. Her goal was to have a breed selected, and hopefully a dog picked out in time to give it as a Christmas present to her daughters."

Lindsey wanted to smack her forehead. How had she forgotten Emily's plans for Christmas? Lindsey had actually started researching dog obedience trainers in the area surrounding Spring Place so that she could give lessons as a gift to Emily and the girls for Christmas.

"I remember her mentioning that," Lindsey admitted. "So, you and Emily would meet once a week to discuss the project and that's when you would discuss dogs?"

Powell sighed again and said, "Not exactly. Most of the time, our weekly meetings also included one or more members of the county commission. If one of them joined us for lunch, the topics stayed focused on the project itself."

Sensing the evasiveness in Powell's answer, Lindsey pressed, "You and Emily met at other times, didn't you?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't see the relevance of your question," Powell objected. "I thought that you wanted my assistance with identifying which of Emily's project files was related to Gilmore County?"

"Okay, this guy is touchy about his relationship with Emily for some reason," Lindsey thought. One glance at Paul told her that he was having similar thoughts.

She pushed on, "As I mentioned when we met at the car show, Emily was my best friend. What mattered to her mattered to me. Let me ask you this, Emily had confided in me that she had met a man that she was interested in exploring a possible relationship with once their work together on a project ended. Were you that man?"

Powell stammered, "Emily never mentioned any such interest to me, so I don't know how to answer your question. I thought that we were becoming friends, maybe even confidants, but..."

Lindsey took a shot, "Did Emily know that you were married?"

"The subject never came up," Powell admitted. "My wife and I are currently separated while trying to work out some issues with our marriage. I try to avoid discussing her with anyone other than the counselor that we are both seeing, individually and together."

"What a bastard!" Lindsey almost screamed, but she was able to restrain herself. There was no way that Emily would consider anything more than a professional relationship with a man that she knew to be married. This Powell character had conveniently let the fact that he was still married be an inconsequential component of their "friendship".

She couldn't resist asking, "Tell me, did your wife know of your 'friendship' with Emily? From the way that she acted on Saturday when you and I, two complete strangers, were having a simple conversation in a very public place, I can't imagine her learning that you were meeting Emily on a regular basis unrelated to your work going over very well with her."

The prolonged silence on the other end of the phone answered more than Powell's eventual reply, "Let's leave my wife out of this."

Before Lindsey could respond, Paul reached over and placed his cell phone on mute. He whispered, "Don't mention the text. This guy is, if not directly hiding something, he is being too evasive for the circumstances. Let's get the authorities involved."

Nodding, Lindsey unmuted the phone and said, "Mr. Powell, I don't know what your game was with Emily, but when the authorities investigating her murder finally get around to speaking with you..."

"Murder!" Powell exclaimed. "What do you mean, murder? I thought you said that Emily died in a traffic accident?"

Lindsey admitted, "I may have used gentler terms when we met at the car show, Mr. Powell, but Emily's death was no accident. Since you and her had been getting 'acquainted', as you called it, I'm sure that the investigators will want to get a clearer understanding of that relationship than you seem willing to share with me."

A resigned Powell said, "If the authorities ask about me and Emily, I'll tell them what I know."

"But you won't tell me," Lindsey scoffed. "Her best friend."

"What the fuck do you want to know?" Powell growled. He then calmed and said more sedately, "It's not like we were sleeping together or anything. Yet. I got the sense that Emily would be receptive to our becoming more intimate, but..."

Emily hadn't been a nun. Lindsey knew that firsthand. She had frequently watched the girls when they were all on vacation somewhere so that Emily would be free to date, and sometimes spend the night with a man that she had met and gotten to know. She wasn't promiscuous, but she was a vibrant woman with needs and desires.

Being single, Lindsey had far more opportunities to date than Emily as a single mother. They both understood this and often factored it into their times together. When they were together, the roles always seemed to naturally reverse, freeing Emily to explore that which she couldn't in her day-to-day life.

There was the likelihood that one of the men that Emily had hooked up with during their vacations could have been married. Under the circumstances that usually existed, involving strangers meeting at a resort or other popular tourist location, how could anyone be certain of the true status of another that they had just met?

Lindsey just knew that Emily, like herself, would never get involved with a man who was obviously married or in a committed relationship with another woman. What existed, or was developing between Emily and Powell was not a vacation fling. That would have mattered to her friend.

"How could Emily not know that you were married?" Lindsey pried.

Once more, Powell sighed before answering, "She might have for all I know. She never asked outright, and I never mentioned Shelly, I mean my wife, Michelle, to her. I do know that Emily was aware of me living alone. Since our separation, Shelly has remained in our home and I have been renting an apartment here in town. Emily had dinner with me there one evening and commented on it being the typical bachelor pad."

Lindsey asked, "Is that where you and Emily met to discuss things unrelated to the project?"

"No," Powell replied. "She was only at the apartment one time, and I could tell that she was uncomfortable there. We usually met along the paved walking trail beside the river. We would simply walk while chatting, occasionally sitting on a bench. If there were people with dogs in the park or along the path, we would talk about them."

"Is that where you planned to meet her on Sunday, October 11^th?" Lindsey asked.

Powell sounded agitated when he replied, "We never met up on the weekends. I usually have dog show events or other commitments, and Emily was busy with her daughters. Plus, Shelly typically wants to monopolize any free time I have on the weekends to try to work on our marriage."

She would be able to verify Powell's claim by reviewing the texts from Emily's phone, but Lindsey instinctively knew that he was telling the truth. Emily would have made Megan and Annie her priority on the weekends.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Powell saying, "I'm sorry, but I have to get to a meeting. I will let the county commissioners know that the project will need to be either cancelled or another consultant hired. How soon can we get copies of the files that Emily had compiled on the project to-date?"

Lindsey wanted to tweak Powell's tail one last time, "Her files are part of the investigation into her murder, as well as the probate related to Emily's estate. It might be a while before any part of them can be released. Goodbye, Mr. Powell. Good luck with your marriage."

Chapter Twelve

"I have no idea what an Appalachian Outlaw is!" exclaimed Lindsey.

They were gathered in a conference room at the Murray County Courthouse that Paul had arranged, but he had not yet joined them himself. Agent Ramsey had been explaining all the references to the term "AOMC" that had been laced throughout the multiple client files from Emily's cloud server, covering several closed cases, the open case with Gilmore County, and three of her pending cases for other organizations.

Of course, Lindsey knew who the Appalachian Outlaws were. She and Paul had been researching them for days. They had been poring over all of Emily's files since the SSD drive from Cecil had arrived last week. And, while it was true that Emily had been focused almost exclusively on identifying illegal activity of this gang through their financial transactions within almost every county in Northern Georgia, there was nothing in the information available through Emily's files that indicated the gang's knowledge of her audits or that they were even being investigated.

All of the previous projects that Emily had completed involving the Appalachian Outlaws clearly showed that there were no signs of money laundering, bribes to officials, or any other financial crimes being committed by the gang. Paul had pulled court records from all the surrounding judicial districts and found that the most serious crime that anyone in the gang had been arrested for was disorderly conduct.

Why would a motorcycle gang target Emily for murder or anything else, when she was essentially proving them innocent of any crimes? Lindsey had agreed with Paul that their physical appearance and the notorious reputations related to other biker gangs must be influencing the perception of the Appalachian Outlaws unfairly in the eyes of the investigators.

Playing the dumb, uniformed stooge for the investigators of Emily's murder and the attack on her house was wearing on Lindsey. She couldn't decide if the two separate teams of GBI agents didn't have a clue, or were simply clueless. Even though they had access to the same text messages and other details on Emily's life, Agents Ramsey and McConnell still hadn't drawn any connection with Ryan Powell, or at least none that they had shared with Lindsey.

All four agents had made it clear that they resented answering any questions on their investigations from Lindsey Norris. Her role as the administrator for the deceased's estate held no legal standing entitling her with access to the details of the investigation. She was a source of information for the investigators, not the other way around.

When he had agreed to intercede to get the agents to share their investigation details with Lindsey, Paul had cautioned her to reveal any relevant information to the investigators without extrapolation or additional insights. He knew how protective law enforcement investigators were with their cases, and if they learned that Lindsey was ahead of them on so many fronts, they would not only try to shut her down, they would likely disregard anything that she brought to them, further delaying the investigation.

Now, it seemed that not only were McConnell and Ramsey fixated on the Appalachian Outlaw Motorcycle Club as the prime suspects in Emily's murder, the other two agents, Heath and Khune, who were investigating the attack on the house, also liked the motorcycle gang for their prime suspects. Was this the reality of their investigations or were they stonewalling her? Lindsey tried once more to steer them in a more logical direction.

"I only have a Master's degree in Applied Mechanics," Lindsey said apologetically. "Hopefully one of you can explain to me the force and power computations that lead you to believe that one or more motorcycles could be employed to push an immobile vehicle weighing more than a ton off the side of a road."

McConnell checked his notes before droning his reply, "The tread marks at the scene indicate that the single vehicle, most likely the suspect in the incident, was a light truck or SUV. A type of vehicle commonly driven by members of the AOMC when they aren't riding their bikes. The treads were from LT305/55R22 tires, manufactured by Leao Tire at their plant in Serbia. Our technicians know that the tires weren't new, but still had over three-fourths of their tread life remaining."

"I've never heard of that brand of tire," Lindsey admitted as she made a note of this information. "Does knowing the details on the tire help you with identifying the vehicle involved?"

"That particular tire size could be used on a variety of vehicles," McConnell explained. "Including the largest-selling American-made vehicle, the Ford F-150 line of pickup trucks. The list also includes all the full-size pickups made by Dodge, Toyota, Nissan, and GM. Then there are all the SUVs built on the same chassis as those trucks."

Lindsey pointed to a spot on her copy of the report from the state patrol, and asked, "What about the trace of paint that was found on Emily's car. Has that been identified?"

McConnell nodded and turned a page in his notes before explaining, "Our technicians identified it as color code B593M, described as Honda Aegean Blue metallic, manufactured by PPG. Since we know that the tire tracks could not have been made by any brand of Honda, including their Ridgeline model of pickup truck, we are assuming that the suspect vehicle had been repainted that color. So far, we have found no auto paint operations in the area that have records of using that color."

She would have to check, but the color blue that the agents described sounded like the same color that Paul's Honda Ridgeline was painted. Adding the paint details to her notes, Lindsey was preparing to ask another question when the door to the conference room opened. Everyone turned to see Judge Paul Eddy entering, and everyone could see that he was not alone.

~~~

"Think of it like your fingers and hands," Jeff Reardon explained.

Reardon had been the production manager at Cascade Carpet Mills for twelve years. He knew that he had to find the most non-technical way possible to describe the situation to Charles Bethel. Like his father before him, Chet Bethel knew nothing about how the products that the company produced were actually manufactured. They both considered themselves above such rudimentary details.

Recognizing the look of frustration on his boss' face, Reardon continued with his explanation, "Your hands and fingers touch things, but they don't actually feel them. Feeling is a function of the brain analyzing the sensory input provided to it by the hands and fingers. Without the brain correctly understanding what the hands and fingers sense, it wouldn't be able to distinguish a smooth surface from a rough one, hot from cold, and so on."

"What have my fucking hands got to do with the tufting machines screwing things up?" Bethel growled impatiently.

Reardon tried to find the right explanation that would get the issue across to his boss without pissing him off more. He tried, "Since the tufting process is automated, it relies upon input from sensors and logical analysis of those signals to control the patterns, yarn length, loop style, and all that the machines do to perform the job. After the latest software update, the machines became erratic, for lack of a better term. We don't know if the problem is with the sensors or with the processing of what the sensors are telling the logic control boards."

Bethel was turning red in the face as he bellowed, "What in the hell do we have a maintenance team for? Get the problem fixed. How hard is that to figure out?"

Throwing his hands up in an attempt to placate Bethel, Reardon said, "Maintenance has already checked everything that they can. The issue appears to be with either the sensors, the logic boards, or the software. The diagnostics have had the technicians swapping parts left and right with no resolution. There is a pending trouble ticket open with the manufacturer, but there has been no response yet."

"Weaveco, right? Bethel asked as he pulled out his cell phone. Without waiting for a reply from Reardon, Bethel found a number in his contacts and initiated a call.

Reardon could tell when the call was answered because his boss immediately started barking at whoever was on the other end. "Jillson, this is Chet Bethel. How soon are you going to have someone over here to fix the problem with your damn machines?"

Eric Jillson, owner of Weaveco, was not a man to wilt under a tirade by someone like Chet Bethel, and Reardon could sense that he was giving back to Bethel just as strongly as he had received. The demeanor of Bethel immediately calmed at whatever Jillson had said to him in response.

"No, of course not," Bethel stammered. "We haven't done anything to alter or modify the machines ourselves. I was told that the problems began after the last update to the operational program software and it affected all of the machines the same way at the same time."

Nodding in agreement with what his boss was relaying, Reardon otherwise remained silent and continued listening to only one side of the conversation, "Who else would push out an update to our machines besides Weaveco?"

"That was a very good question," Reardon thought, and he was surprised that his boss had asked it. He knew that no one on the production or the maintenance teams would have taken the initiative to perform an update to the equipment without prior approval from him or someone else familiar with the production schedule. Likewise, Weaveco knew not to push out any remote updates without prior approval for the same reason. Updates had to be done and operations verified only during non-production times.

Focused on considering this, Reardon didn't notice his boss disconnecting the call with Jillson until he saw him returning his cell phone to his pocket. His attention was on the contemplative expression that Bethel now wore as he stared at one of the tufting machines.

"Apparently, we're the only mill with this update issue," Bethel murmured. "Weaveco is contacting the vendor that produces the operational software and sensor logic to see if the update can be rolled back. He can't explain how or why our machines got updated but none others that Weaveco is aware of."

Reardon considered this before asking, "How long does he anticipate it taking to hear back from this vendor?"

Bethel shrugged, "Jillson wasn't able to commit to a timeframe. Apparently, the company they get the stuff from is currently in some sort of ownership transition that might impact their responsiveness to any technical inquiries for a day or two."

Silently watching Bethel walking away, Reardon took a moment to glance at the display for one of the production control stations. The screensaver was active, and he could see the name of the company that Weaveco used for the sensor logic and operational software on their machines slowly scrolling across. Robotics And Neural Technologies.

~~~

Paul took a seat next to Lindsey at the table across from the four GBI agents. The man with him nodded at the four agents before taking the seat on the other side of the judge.

"Sorry for the interruption," Paul said. "Please continue.

Without hesitation, Lindsey addressed agents Heath and Khune, "Can you share why you believe these Appalachian Outlaws were also the ones to attack Emily's house? I mean, she had already been killed by them, according to your colleagues. What would they gain by burning down the house of a dead woman?"

Heath and Khune shared a brief look before turning their attention to the man who had accompanied Paul into the room. Sitting straighter in his chair, Agent Heath began, "Intimidation is one possible motive. They could have also believed that Mrs. Bethel had some incriminating information on their operations in her home office. She did work out of her house rather than a separate office location, so it would make sense that her files and records would be there, if any existed."

"Who would they be attempting to intimidate?" Lindsey persisted. "Her young daughters? Answer this if you can: Does this group have any history of attacks on other residences involving Molotov Cocktails or similar weapons?"

This time, it was Agent Khune who straightened in his chair before responding to the question, "There was an incident involving a similar biker gang called the Hessians. They were suspected of firebombing the house of a prosecution witness near San Bernardino, California, in 1987."

Lindsey focused hard on remaining polite when she asked, "So that I understand, the suspected involvement of a different biker gang in a firebombing incident that happened two thousand miles from here thirty-nine years ago is what places these Appalachian Outlaws at the top of your suspect list for the attack on Emily's house?"

This question made the man sitting on the other side of Paul chuckle and say, "Agents, you do have to admit that that reasoning does sound pretty lame. Tell me that you have something additional that makes you suspect this group for the attack."

Leaning over to whisper in Paul's ear, Lindsey asked, "Who is he?"

Paul raised one of his hands to forestall the pending reply from the agents, and said, "I apologize, Director. I forgot that you and Miss Norris had not yet been introduced."

He leaned back in his chair so that the view between the man and Lindsey was unobstructed as he continued, "Lindsey Norris, I would like to introduce Chris Dutton, Director of the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. Director, I would like to introduce Lindsey Norris."

Dutton reached across Paul to shake hands with Lindsey as he said, "It's an honor and a privilege to meet you, Miss Norris."

"Thank you," Lindsey said. "I appreciate you joining us."

When Paul resumed his upright position in his chair, Dutton addressed the agents across the table, "Maybe I should explain to all of you why I am here."

Receiving no response beyond a couple of nodding heads, Dutton continued, "Judge Eddy was generous enough to make it known that the two cases that your teams are investigating have come to the attention of some very influential people, and one person in particular. Their interest in seeing these cases solved as quickly as possible has been shared with the governor. He has assigned me to personally oversee the investigation of Emily Bethel's death as well as the attack on her home. So, to that point, I will repeat my earlier question. Please tell me that you have something more than what you have revealed here this morning that leads you to suspect the involvement of the Appalachian Outlaws."

Agent Ramsey stared across at Lindsey before turning his gaze onto Paul. He then addressed Director Dutton, "Sir, would it be possible for us to speak with you in private about this? We realize that Judge Eddy is not a typical civilian, but..."

The tensing of bodies on either side of him made Paul aware of the need to intercede before things turned counterproductive. He said, "I would like to discuss a few legal matters with Miss Norris. If you gentlemen would excuse us for a few minutes."

Without waiting for a response, Paul urged a confused but compliant Lindsey to rise from her seat. He assisted her with gathering her papers and other items from the top of the conference table and then silently escorted her out of the room.

Once they were in his office, Paul explained, "The agents are going to try to convince Chris that you haven't been entirely cleared as a possible person of interest in Emily's murder due to you potentially benefiting financially from her death. Therefore, them sharing too much about the cases with you could compromise them if evidence of your involvement eventually shows up."

"That's ridiculous..." Lindsey began before Paul placed a finger against her lips.

"I know that, Chris knows that, and the governor knows that," Paul assured her. "Chris will make certain that the agents investigating know it as well, without disclosing your wealth to them in the process."

Dutton's words, "the two cases that your teams are investigating have come to the attention of some very influential people, and one person in particular," came back to Lindsey. Had Paul positioned her as that "influential person"? With the governor?

Lindsey had used the power that her wealth provided her to influence business decisions in the past, but those had all been obscured through the deeds of others on her behalf, such as Cecil or whoever the current CEO of R.A.N.T. was at the time. Paul had to know that she would not have wanted her name to be associated directly with any influence that her money may have been able to buy her with these investigations.

Once more, as if reading her mind, Paul explained, "As far as anyone knows, you are the trustee for an inter vivos trust valued in the billions. The settlor is the unnamed person of interest whom you are representing. All of that is verifiable and all the incentive that a politician hungry for campaign donations needs to know."

Other than the one-dollar contribution on her tax return each year, Lindsey had never donated money to any politician, political campaign, or political cause. She, largely through R.A.N.T., had been extremely philanthropic where select charitable organizations were concerned, and Lindsey expected that to continue as long as she could do so anonymously.

If Paul ever needed or wanted her financial support when he ran again for judge, Lindsey would make certain to contribute the maximum amount allowed by campaign laws. She wasn't sure how she felt about even the hint that she might throw her financial support behind some candidate for another office. That type of influence had never appealed to her, but she trusted Paul, and if he believed that hinting at her financial support would benefit their access to details on the investigations, Lindsey would play along.

"So," Lindsey quipped, "It is your belief that the investigators know more than they have been sharing with me because I am a mere civilian and not totally clear of suspicion in their minds. And now, due to your intervention with the governor, the agents will become more cooperative. Do I have that right?"

"That's my hope," Paul confirmed. "Although, I would expect some details to always be held in reserve by any or all of them."

"Yes, yes," Lindsey snorted. "Knowledge is power and all that bull crap. I'm actually surprised that they shared the details on the tires and paint color so willingly. It makes me question whether the information is accurate."

Paul took a seat behind his desk as he considered Lindsey's observations. He said, "I would trust the details as accurate, but not necessarily linked in any way to the biker gang. Otherwise, they would have shared that connection with you to give their theory of them as the prime suspects more credibility. My guess is that they haven't found any link to the tires and the paint color to any actual suspects yet."

Lindsey took a chair across from Paul and pulled out her phone before asking, "Do you see any problem with me having some research done on the tires and paint color on my own? I'll share whatever I learn with the agents and not go any further with the information so long as I see them acting on whatever I find."

Chuckling, Paul said, "Somehow, I don't think that whether I see a problem with it or not will influence your actions. But, since the agents shared the details with you, I see that as them not restricting your use of those details as long as you don't make them public in some fashion."

Lindsey began composing a text to Cecil on her cell phone as she replied to Paul, "I have no problem with that. So, assuming that the Appalachian Outlaws are a smokescreen for my benefit, do you think that the investigations are making any real progress in identifying likely suspects?"

Receiving a notification tone on his own cell phone, Paul checked it before responding to Lindsey, "As an officer of the court, I am almost duty-bound to accept the integrity and investigative skills of all law enforcement agencies that I deal with. I have been disappointed a few times, but by and large, they are professionals who do an outstanding job."

"I sense a 'but' coming," Lindsey smirked.

"Not a 'but'," Paul insisted. "Let's just say that I have more reservations at this point in the investigation than I feel comfortable with. That's one reason why I wanted Chris Dutton to get involved. I know him, and will feel better knowing that he is leading the investigation, even if we don't get a lot more of the details on their progress."

"Details, schmetails," Lindsey scoffed. "Unless we've missed something, there aren't a lot of details that we don't already know. We know that there is nothing in Emily's files to indicate that a client or anyone else had a motive to kill her because of something she was working on. We know, or at least I am positive, that Emily would not have been on her way to anything work-related on a Sunday. To me, that points to her murder being either a random act by a complete stranger, or by someone that she knew who had a personal reason to kill her."

"The attack on the house would tend to discount the random act theory," Paul said. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Lindsey nodded, "I do. That leaves it being someone that she knew. I am still bothered by Ryan Powell denying that he communicated with Emily right before her death. He needs to be confronted about that text."

Paul picked up his cell phone as he said, "I can't disagree with you. Let me see what this text from my least favorite sister is about, and then we'll go ask the agents about that while Chris is still here."

~~~

"Don't I have any say in this?" Charles Bethel barked.

Adam Wyatt was extremely familiar with Charles Bethel's attempts to intimidate others. They had never worked on him, and they wouldn't work now.

He barked right back, "Listen, Bethel, I told you that this was a risk you were taking when you let your ex-wife's lawyer dictate the terms of the contract granting your daughters half ownership of the company through a trust controlled exclusively by the woman you were divorcing instead of a third party. Now that your ex-wife is deceased, whoever controls the trust controls that ownership portion of your company. The trust does restrict the sale of the shares until your daughters are both eighteen, but after that..."

Wyatt loathed Bethel. His philandering and narcissistic arrogance had made representing him one of the toughest experiences of Wyatt's legal career. But when you are attempting to make senior partner at Eddy Law, you don't turn down lucrative clients, regardless of how much you might despise them.

His dislike for the man was the primary reason that Wyatt had assigned Ariel Brenner to represent Bethel with his custody case. Glancing across his desk at Ariel's disinterested expression as she listened to the call with "her" client, Wyatt was once more reminded that she had no morals to be offended by this creep.

To say that Charles Bethel had been surprised to receive the e-mail inviting him to visit China would have been an understatement. When he read further into the e-mail and learned that the invitation was intended as a meet and greet between himself and the future half-owner of Cascade Carpet Mills, Happy Floors Carpet Group Company, Limited, Bethel was practically apoplectic.

Ariel couldn't remain disinterested when Bethel's next question fell on her to answer. He asked, "How could someone take action involving the trust while it was still in probate?"

This was exactly why Ariel preferred female clients. Being attractive to men certainly had its benefits, but when they couldn't focus their attention on anything other than her appearance, her sound legal advice typically fell on deaf ears. Such had apparently been the case with Charles Bethel.

She hoped that delivering the same information over the phone would finally achieve comprehension, "Mr. Bethel, as we discussed when strategizing about your custody case, the trust holding fifty percent ownership in Cascade Carpet Mills was not part of your ex-wife's estate. It is a trust established solely for your daughters, naming whoever had legal custody of your daughters as the trustee. This is why we sought custody being granted to you."

Bethel growled, "That means that the dyke bitch lover of my ex-wife got control of the trust! I told you that she was only interested in the free ride that being the guardian of those kids would give her. Can we use her trying to sell the inheritance of the girls as proof of that now?"

Wyatt replied before Ariel, "Only if we could show that the proceeds from the sale after your youngest daughter turns eighteen would benefit Miss Norris personally rather than your daughters. We could certainly ask for a hearing and request the details of the proposed sale. We should do a little digging on our own before taking that route."

"What kind of digging?" Bethel asked. "If you're talking about a grave for Lindsey Norris, I'm fully on board with that plan."

"Mr. Bethel," Wyatt warned, "I strongly urge you to not make statements such as that again. While wishing ill of someone doesn't legally constitute a threat against them, it could still place you in a perilous position should something happen to the person you mention in your statement."

"Yeah, yeah," Bethel scoffed dismissively. "What's this digging that you mentioned?"

Addressing his underling, Wyatt asked, "You said that Piedmont couldn't find much on this Lindsey Norris' financial status, only her credit report and income tax statements for the past few years. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Ariel confirmed. "However, she apparently presented something to the judge that provided far more detail. The judge agreed with Norris' attorney to keep the details confidential."

Wyatt thought for a moment before saying, "Okay, here's what I want you to do. File a motion for discovery of that financial information. If Judge Roane refuses, we'll appeal her decision to the chief judge."

"I think we need to go about it the other way around," Ariel explained. "Since the custody case was technically settled with Judge Roane's ruling in favor of Lindsey Norris, we have no standing to seek discovery. We will need to appeal the custody case to the chief judge and then, as part of that motion, seek discovery of Miss Norris' financial details."

Wyatt nodded at Ariel and said, "You do that. In the meantime, I'll place a call to an old colleague."

~~~

"You're saying that this Ryan Powell admitted that a relationship was developing between himself and Emily Bethel?" Chris Dutton asked.

Lindsey nodded and said, "His exact words were that they were "becoming confidants", but he also hinted at his belief that Emily might have been interested in a more intimate relationship."

Addressing agents Ramsey and McConnell, Dutton asked, "What is your read on the relationship between Powell and the victim?"

It was obvious that the two GBI agents were still not comfortable discussing details of their investigation in front of Lindsey Norris and Paul Eddy by their shared looks of consternation before Ramsey answered their boss, "We saw nothing in the communications between Emily Bethel and Ryan Powell to indicate that they were meeting for anything other than her investigation into the AOMC."

Seeing the reddening of Dutton's face, McConnell quickly added, "We have an interview scheduled with Powell for next week to go over the information that Emily Bethel had in her files on the investigation for Gilmore County to see if anything points to the AOMC or another individual having any reason to eliminate Mrs. Bethel prior to the completion of the report."

"For fuck's sake!" roared Dutton. "Tell me I'm not hearing this right. Tell me that two special agents with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation haven't completely ignored the one person that the victim of a homicide was apparently on her way to meet when she was killed. Please tell me that you two aren't that incompetent."

Calming momentarily, Dutton addressed Lindsey, "Uh, I apologize for my language, Miss Norris."

Lindsey couldn't resist smiling when she said, "That's alright, Director."

"Sir," Ramsey pleaded, "Jerry and I believed that it was a sound strategy for us to review the details of the project that Emily Bethel was working on before interviewing Mr. Powell or anyone else from Gilmore County. It was the delay in gaining access to those files that caused the delay, not us ignoring Mr. Powell as you imply..."

Dutton barked, "Save it. A 'pesky civilian', as you called her, had the common sense to realize that talking to the person that the victim was traveling to meet when she was killed was a priority to the investigation. I want you and McConnell in my office tomorrow morning at 8 a.m., where we will discuss your future with the GBI in greater detail. Now, get out of here."

Turning to the other two agents, Heath and Khune, Dutton growled, "You two will be in my office tomorrow morning at 8:30, and you better bring with you some realistic leads on the firebombing of Emily Bethel's house. The AOMC has no connection to the victim and absolutely no motive to have committed the crime, so unless you can show me evidence to the contrary, I don't want them anywhere near your investigation. Understand?"

Lindsey and Paul sat silent, watching Dutton glaring menacingly at his four agents as they all collected their reports and other items and left the conference room.

As soon as the door closed, Dutton hung his head and softly said, "I have never been more embarrassed and ashamed of my profession than I am right now. The incompetence exhibited by those agents is inexcusable, and I'm sorry that you had to witness it so profoundly."

When Paul didn't respond to Dutton's comment, Lindsey asked, "What's done is done. How do we move forward from here?"

"Give me a minute to make some arrangements," Dutton said while extracting his cell phone from its holder on his belt. "Then I would like you to run me through what you have learned about Emily Bethel and Ryan Powell. Everything."

Lindsey merely nodded and waited while Dutton made his call. When she heard him give an order to have Ryan Dutton picked up at the Gilmore County offices and brought to the GBI headquarters in Decatur, she couldn't help but sigh in relief that something might actually be getting done with the investigation.

~~~

"Hold on, and I'll ask her," Paul said into his phone.

Lindsey raised her eyes from her own cell phone screen, where she had been pretending to send e-mails and text messages while surreptitiously listening to Paul's conversation with his sister, Karly. Even though she could only hear one side of the conversation, she had always found so much amusement in listening to the joyful and teasing banter between these siblings. This exchange had been no different.

Catching Paul's eye, Lindsey asked inquisitively, "Ask me what?"

Holding his cell phone against his chest to manually mute his reply, Paul explained, "Jessica and Davey have been incubating some chicken eggs that are due to hatch this weekend. Karly wants to know if Megan and Annie would like to spend the weekend at their place to witness the hatching of the eggs."

Karly's intent was obvious to both Lindsey and Paul. The twin sisters wanted to provide the couple with an opportunity to have some truly alone time together.

Paul studied Lindsey as she silently contemplated the invitation from his sister. Her expression told him little, which is something that he had learned to expect from her. Whether it was exuberant happiness or tormenting despair that Lindsey was feeling at any given time, she could mask her feelings better than anyone that Paul had ever met, especially in her eyes.

Then, there were times like right now, when Lindsey's eyes morphed into a wide-screen projection of her thoughts. Right now, she wasn't trying to hide her impish, teasing, and playful side from anyone, "Tell Karly thanks, but I don't want the girls to be a bother for her. If she'll just give me a call when the eggs start hatching, I can run Megan and Annie over to watch."

The corner of Paul's mouth turned up as he asked, "Why, Miss Norris, are you that opposed to spending time alone with me?"

Lindsey countered, "I'm alone with you right now, Mr. Eddy. Behind closed doors and completely defenseless, I might add. The closed door aside, I seem to remember being alone with you on several occasions lately."

That part was true. They had been alone together for some period of time almost every night since the reunion. There was no hesitation with Paul coming over to the house after work to have dinner with Lindsey and the girls before they would all play a game or watch a movie until it was time for Megan and Annie to go to bed. After that, cozy time between them, alone on the couch or on the rug in front of the fireplace had become their norm.

Being alone in a room within a house that had two young girls in it had not provided Paul and Lindsey the level of privacy that either felt necessary for them to carry their growing desires any further than they had so far. There had been a lot of extremely passionate kissing and caressing, but no one's hands had ventured within the other party's clothing, although it had been hard for both to resist.

Lindsey had the advantage that she could slip into something more comfortable, which to her had come to mean wearing the thinnest articles of clothing she owned so that there was minimal fabric between Paul's exploration of her body and her bare skin beneath.

"Come away with me," Paul softly said. "I'll take Friday off, and we can make a long weekend out of it. I know the perfect place."

Lindsey suspected that when she let Paul into her bed, wherever that might be, she would never want to sleep another night in her life without him beside her. Were they ready for that?

"Can we do it without expectations?" she asked him. "Can we spend the time together and just let things happen naturally, without an agenda or plan of any kind?"

She knew that she probably sounded like a teenage girl struggling with whether she was ready to give her virginity to a boy on prom night. Ironically, finally having sex with Paul Eddy, it almost felt that significant to her. Lindsey believed that Paul was the shelter that her heart needed. She also suspected that he was the turbulent storm of passion that her heart had always longed for.

In response to Lindsey's question, Paul spoke to Karly on his phone, "Megan and Annie will be yours after school tomorrow until Sunday afternoon. We will have their security detail know to drop them off at your place and to keep an eye on them there."

There was no objection voiced by Lindsey.

Chapter Thirteen

The nearly two-hour drive from Spring Place to Unicoi State Park had been interminable for Lindsey.

Over a quick, light lunch, she and Paul had talked about places they'd been, places they'd like to go back to together, and places that if they saw them again in a thousand years, it would be too soon. They lamented over how much that they had missed sharing with each other so far in their lives.

While Paul drove his Honda Ridgeline through the winding mountain roads of north Georgia, Lindsey sat beside him, pointing out venues or signs indicating turn-offs to venues which she believed the girls would enjoy visiting. Treehouse rentals near Blue Ridge, the Blueridge Adventure Park, Hooves and Feather Petting Farm, all the state parks and waterfalls. She also silently made note of the large number of potential getaways that targeted couples seeking romantic escapades in the mountains.

Lindsey had expressed her wish that they approach this alone time together without expectations, but she had no question in her mind that she would be disappointed if she and Paul didn't consummate their relationship before returning to Spring Place.

She didn't know how the emotional and physical progression towards that goal would play out. Lindsey just knew that it would. She was certain of that, and she sensed that Paul was just as certain. How could the bastard be sitting beside her, acting so relaxed?

Anxious, confused, eager, jittery, desirous, apprehensive; all words to describe the confused emotions swirling around inside of Lindsey at the thought of making love to Paul for the first time. It really did seem reminiscent of what an innocent teen maiden might be experiencing in anticipation of her giving her virginity to a boy.

It wasn't lost on Lindsey that these were all feelings that were completely foreign to her. Losing her virginity had been as uneventful for her as trying on a new pair of shoes. Now, the thought of giving herself to Paul weighed heavily on her mind and her heart, and Lindsey knew it was because this experience meant so much more, for both of them.

This truly would be a consummation of their relationship; foretelling their future together as a couple. Although Lindsey would love and cherish Paul Eddy until her dying day, even if they never had sex, she knew that the pent-up passion within both of them would be a haunting, nagging, eidolon which would never be absent between them.

Paul was relaxed because he was confident. He was unfaltering in his belief in the love that existed between himself and the woman beside him. This love was genuine; it was true, it was insurmountable by disappointment over whatever did or didn't happen physically between them.

Their love was too alive, too vibrant, and too hungry to accept disappointment of any kind where desires and physical passions were concerned. All he had to do was what he had been wanting to do for twenty-three years; love Lindsey Norris with every molecule of his existence.

On the road leading to the entrance to Unicoi State Park, Paul pointed to a sign and asked, "Would you like to go up and see Ruby Falls? It's only a little after noon and check-in isn't until three. We have some time to kill.

Lindsey only considered his question for a second before responding, "We're staying in the lodge, right, not one of the cabins?"

"Yes," Paul confirmed. "A cabin would have been more secluded and private, but not with as many amenities and conveniences as a suite in the lodge. Are you okay with that?"

Hiking around the state park with Paul would bring back so many wonderful memories of their time at the summer camp where they had met. Lindsey didn't want to deny them that opportunity, but first things first.

"I would want to change my shoes before hiking to the falls," she explained. "I know that it's an easy walk on a paved path, but I would still feel better doing it in something more substantial than these sandals. Why don't we go to the lodge first? If our room isn't ready for us to occupy it, I can at least change my shoes and then we can leave our bags with the front desk. That's probably safer than leaving them in the truck at the falls parking lot."

Paul demonstrated his agreement by taking the turnoff towards the lodge and quickly finding a parking space.

"Do you mind grabbing the bags?" Lindsey asked as she slid out of the truck. "I'll go ahead and see what the status of our reservation is."

Without waiting for a response, she said, "I'll meet you inside."

They didn't have that much luggage for their three days and two nights away from home. This is why Paul was able to make a single trip with everything and join Lindsey in the lobby within minutes. This was why the fact that she stood waiting for him with a card key in her hand surprised him so much.

"You didn't have to downgrade us or anything to get the early check-in, did you?" Paul asked as he followed Lindsey to the stairs.

Grabbing her bag from Paul so that it freed his left hand for her to hold, Lindsey smiled, "Nope. It's almost as if they were expecting us to arrive early and had housekeeping get our suite ready for us."

She led him up the stairs, saying, "Come on, we're on the second floor."

Following the signs at the top of the stairs, they turned left and proceeded to the last room on the left side of the corridor. Lindsey used the card key to unlock the door, but was then swept off her feet when Paul picked her up into his arms. He used his foot to push the door open and deftly carried Lindsey into the room.

After she stopped giggling, Lindsey admonished Paul, "Don't think that carrying me across the threshold just now gets you off the hook for our honeymoon. Now put me down, you brute!"

Paul gently placed Lindsey onto the foot of the bed as he remarked, "You have given me so much promise by accepting that my love for you is true. Don't ever doubt it. Ever."

This had never happened before.

Lindsey Norris was the master of her universe and never relinquished command. She controlled people, they never controlled her. No one ever got the better of her. Hearing Paul so blatantly verbalize his love for her brought tears to Lindsey's heart, if not her eyes. She stammered, "Will you excuse me for a moment?"

As paralyzed as a statue, Paul could not even nod his head in reply to Lindsey's response to his confession of love. His eyes followed her as she silently strode into the bathroom and closed the door.

It was ironic to Lindsey that during the entire trip to this lodge, she had been the one who had been anxious and confused, while Paul had exuded calm confidence. Now, she realized that the roles had reversed. She was calm and confident, and he was the one standing outside the bathroom door with anxiety and confusion clear on his face.

Lindsey couldn't help but smile as she quickly took care of her tasks and prepared to reenter the room. She hoped that her reappearing as quickly as possible would restore Paul's confidence and ease any apprehensions that her abrupt exit had caused.

Paul turned at the sound of the bathroom door opening. He had been reading informational placards on the bedside table to keep his hands busy and distract him from the potential damage that his earlier words may have done. He was not prepared for what he saw.

Paul suddenly realized that some eyes touch a person more than hands ever could. He made no effort to conceal his appreciation as he once more stood nearly transfixed. Lindsey could see his eyes move over her body, and it excited her as nothing ever had before.

Paul's appraisal of her naked body was far different from that of any man that she had ever allowed the same opportunity, and there hadn't been many. Lindsey didn't feel insulted or objectified by the way Paul so obviously enjoyed looking at every inch of her. She felt cherished, appreciated, and loved.

Now, it was time for Lindsey to demonstrate her own love for this man. Raising her arms as she approached Paul, she placed them around his neck, and said, "Let's get this party started."

~~~

"Yes, Chief?"

Knowing that Gail King seldom minced words and dissuaded anyone lingering longer than necessary after receiving her comments on their stories for the Boston Globe's financial section, Yvette Rhoades had just her head inside the door of her editor's office as she addressed her.

"Come on in, Yvette," King instructed. "Take a seat."

Rhoades did as requested and planted her plentiful seat onto the chair in front of her boss' desk. "What's the new assignment?" she wondered to herself. Her editor usually only wanted to discuss a story idea when it was being assigned to ensure that the reporter covering it approached it with the angle that King envisioned. Stories already submitted usually received comments and edits digitally through an e-mail from the editor.

Gail King placed a half-eaten sandwich onto the top of her desk, glanced away from her computer display, and said, "Where's the rest of your story?"

"You saw it too?" Rhoades smirked in response.

She had been assigned to cover the story about an employee buyout at one of the leading high-technology companies in the state, Robotics and Neural Technologies. In an area of the country that had seen the demise in recent decades of legendary companies such as Digital Equipment Corporation, Wang, and Polaroid, the apparent windfall that the employees of R.A.N.T. were receiving, if true, was big news.

King pointed at her computer display and said, "You do a good job detailing how the employees are financing the buyout and how much each is expected to receive as their share of the corporation. What you aren't deep on is who is the recipient of the billions being paid by the employees. Isn't this Lindsey Norris, the founder of R.A.N.T., the one selling the company to the employees?

Rhoades shrugged, "If she is, it isn't obvious in any of the filings that I have been able to get copies of. We know that the property that the R.A.N.T. campus sits on is still listed showing her as the owner, but the transfer of shares names a trust established last week in Georgia rather than an individual."

"Georgia the state, I assume," queried King.

While the former Soviet republic of Georgia was not known as any sort of financial mecca, one didn't assume anything where things like trusts were concerned. People were too sneaky when trying to avoid detection of their assets.

After Rhoades had confirmed that the trust was indeed established in the state of Georgia, King continued, "You reported that Lindsey Norris was not present at the ceremony transferring ownership to the employees. Did you learn of her whereabouts?"

Rhoades shook her head, "Only that she left suddenly over a week ago on a personal matter and has been handling things remotely up until the transition of ownership was finalized."

Frowning, King asked, "No one mentioned what this personal matter was or where she was going?"

"From what I have learned about her," Rhoades said, "It is unlikely that anyone knows with any certainty. People I have interviewed portray Lindsey Norris as more secretive, private, and reclusive than Howard Hughes where her personal life is concerned. She owns a townhouse up in Manchester, but no one has seen her there in weeks either."

King considered this information. She had dealt with reclusive people before, and what they seldom realized was how much of their lives could be discovered, whether they wanted it or not. This digital world had records of everything if you had the time and knew where to look.

"Okay," King finally said. "I'll get the research department tasked with finding out everything about her since birth. As they deliver it to you, start compiling a profile on Lindsey Norris that we can publish as a follow-up to the article on the buyout. Some woman, under the age of forty, might have just become one of the wealthiest people in the country, and that is a story that we want to print before anyone else."

Sitting up straighter in her chair, Rhoades smiled and said, "I was hoping that you would feel that way. If you agree, I'll edit my story on the buyout to tease about the follow-up on her. Give readers a hint of what's to come rather than leaving them hanging."

King waved a dismissive hand and said, "Have it to me by five."

"Thanks, Chief!" Rhoades exclaimed before rising. "Enjoy the rest of your lunch."

Yvette Rhoadeshad been disappointed that Lindsey Norris had not been present at the ceremony transferring the ownership of Robotics and Neural Technologies to the employees. The chance to see her had been a major factor in her accepting the assignment to cover the event.

In her first year as an editor with the Harvard Crimson, Rhoades wrote an article on the "independent Activity Period" at M.I.T., the friendly rival of Harvard a few miles away. While researching some of the most popular competitions, she had discovered that a lone female student had won the Autonomous Robot Design, Robocraft Programming, and MasLab competitions for the last five years.

Rhoades had spent days trying to schedule an interview with Lindsey Norris, hoping to discover some gender biases or other campus societal reasons why a female student at M.I.T. would prefer to compete alone rather than team up with fellow students, male or female.

She was never able to interview Lindsey Norris personally, but the comments from students that Rhoades was able to interview painted Lindsey as genius-level intelligent, friendly, helpful to a point, extremely private, and it was this last trait that others believed drove Lindsey to go it alone in virtually all aspects of student life. Oh, and she was reported to be unquestionably, the most beautiful woman at M.I.T.

An interview of sorts with Lindsey had finally been arranged just prior to her graduation. She was the valedictorian for her class, and while not compelled to agree to interviews, she found a press conference-style arrangement acceptable. Various reporters could ask her questions and she could give her answer only one time.

Most of the reporters focused their questions on topics such as what her years at M.I.T. had meant to her, what her career options were, and how she felt now that her college days were coming to an end. Rhoades had done her research and wanted Lindsey to explain how she had been able to graduate from M.I.T. as a millionaire due to the multiple patents that she had obtained while just a student.

Lindsey had skirted the question at the time, but Rhoades kept digging. When offered the assignment to cover the employee buyout of R.A.N.T., she was hoping to confirm with Lindsey Norris her suspicion that the company had been founded using only her own money, with no obligation to any outside investors. To self-fund a technology start-up was unheard of, and a story that Rhoades wanted to tell.

The Boston Globe had won its share of prestigious journalism awards, including several Pulitzer Prizes. Yvette Rhoades had won several awards herself - not a Pulitzer, of course, but that wasn't off her list of goals. A Pulitzer for investigative journalism would be a true feather in her cap.

She booted her computer and used her still valid credentials to log onto the Harvard Crimson research portal. Rhoades already knew that the archives at the Boston Globe held no pictures of Lindsey Norris. She had checked before driving to Methuen. She trusted that the picture taken of Lindsey Norris at the graduation press conference was still in the university paper's archives.

It was.

Even in grainy black and white, there was no mistaking the beauty of Lindsey Norris. Rhoades admired her subject even more because of this. She recalled from the interviews with her classmates, Lindsey Norris had never used her looks to gain favor or seek special treatment. She hadn't purposely tried to dress down or disguise her beauty, but accepted it as part of life, and dealt with the biases associated with this by either ignoring them, or taking her own, solitary path all through her years at M.I.T.

Admiring and respecting Lindsey Norris would not dissuade Yvette Rhoades from writing the truth about why the transaction involving the transfer of ownership for R.A.N.T. appeared to hide the immense wealth that went along with it. If Lindsey Norris was attempting to maintain her privacy, that was one thing. If there was something underhanded taking place, the readers of the Boston Globe deserved to know about it.

~~~

"That's going to be your choice," Debra Werle stated flatly. "We're okay for this week due to the accounts receivable pipeline not yet being affected. The outstanding receivables projected for next week will leave us short of funds for our obligations for payroll, our required pension contributions, mandatory minimum payments on the loans, or the accounts payable due under the net 30 terms. You'll need to decide what gets missed if production doesn't resume pretty damn quick."

Chet Bethel glared at the head of his accounting department before asking, "Where does our line of credit sit with the bank?"

Werle ignored the glare as she replied, "Since it is tied to our outstanding accounts receivable balance, it's looking pretty bleak with no orders being fulfilled. We can't bill for product that we haven't shipped."

"What the fuck else was going to go wrong?" Bethel cursed to himself. First the tufting machines started acting up after a mysterious upgrade that apparently no one could find a way to undo until some transition at the manufacturer was complete. No, based upon true chronological order, the proposed sale of half of his company that was in the trust for his daughters to that Chinese outfit happened first. The tufting machine crap started next.

Then there was the announcement from his purchasing manager that the polyester material needed to manufacture the backing for most carpets was on backorder from both DuPont and Shell Chemical. This meant that Cascade Carpet Mills would have to try to locate the material through the more expensive distributor or dealer channels rather than getting it directly from the manufacturers.

His sales manager had been doubtful about their ability to pass the increased costs along to the customers with existing purchase contracts already in place. That's if they still had any customers under contract once their orders started not showing up on time.

On a personal level, Chet was concerned about whether or not he would be able to take his quarterly dividend distribution in a few weeks. The retainer that he had paid the lawyers had taken a huge chunk of his disposable funds, which had already been hit hard by his transferring money into his hidden accounts to prevent it from being included in any potential child support decisions against him.

Turning his attention back to Werle, he said, "We can't miss payroll, so that can be taken off the table as an option. I'll talk to HR about furloughing people until production is ready to resume. Spend the weekend analyzing the penalties we would face for missing the pension contribution and how much more we will pay by missing the net thirty deadlines for this month. We've never been late on the loan payments before, so we should have some leeway there."

Werle rose as she said, "Got it, but you should get an analysis from HR before making any decision on furloughs, especially if they are without pay. Everyone knows that both the Monsanto and Southwind mills are hiring like crazy. If people here aren't seeing any income, they will jump to one of the other mills, and we won't get them back."

"Good point." Bethel agreed. "I'm putting you on my calendar for nine o'clock Monday morning. Be here with the information needed to choose which payments we can best survive being late on."

Without a verbal response, Werle quickly left her boss' office and left him to ruminate in private. She had a resume to update.

Bethel turned his attention to his computer screen to check e-mails. There was one from Jeff Reardon with the subject line saying, "Production Update". Hoping for some good news for a change, Bethel quickly opened it.

It wasn't the good news that he had been hoping for. Reardon was reporting that he had spoken with a support person at the company that developed the software for the tufting machine systems, Robotics and Neural Technologies. This person claimed to know nothing about an update to the software and stated that he would have to investigate the situation with their development team.

The problem, as Reardon explained it, was that the owner of this company had recently sold it to the employees, and the organization was currently in a planned hiatus that was scheduled to last at least a week. In his explanation, Reardon had used the acronym, "R.A.N.T.", and this tickled something in Bethel's mind.

It wasn't until he had read a few more e-mails, including one from Ariel Brenner informing him that the appeal of the custody case had been filed, that Bethel had a mild revelation. He searched through older e-mails until he found the last one from Piedmont Security.

The attachment for this e-mail was the background report that Bethel had received on Lindsey Norris. While there wasn't much on her financial status, the report did show that she had worked at a company called "R.A.N.T." until recently. Bethel then remembered Norris stating in court that she had recently taken a buy-out from her employer and retired.

This recollection made Chet Bethel laugh for the first time in weeks. Lindsey Norris had taken a buy-out and left her employer less than two weeks before her employment there would have made her eligible to participate in the employee purchase of the company, which would have likely made her a very wealthy woman.

"The stupid bitch," Bethel thought with a grin. He was going to enjoy sharing this information with his lawyers.

~~~

"What day is it?" Lindsey whispered groggily.

Paul kissed the big toe on one of Lindsey's feet. It was the body part of hers closest to his mouth in their current position on the bed, and he didn't have the energy right then to attempt reaching anything else.

"The hell if I know," he finally replied, sounding just as wasted as her. "Right now, I don't think I could accurately state which planet we are on."

Using what little energy he could muster, Paul turned his head enough to glance at the curtain-covered window. No light was visible around the edges, so it appeared that the sun had set at some point.

Lindsey had noticed the same lack of light. She mumbled, "It's either Friday evening or early Saturday morning."

She knew that she was being facetious and that Paul would recognize her comment as such. They had made love for hours, but not enough hours to stretch into the next morning. Her body couldn't have survived that. Lindsey began assessing her body to determine if it had survived what they had already done. "God, that had been intense!"

"Intense?" Lindsey bounced the word around in her head. Yes, that was one word to describe things, but it seemed somehow inadequate when she recalled the hellacious pleasures and profound emotions that the intimacies between her and Paul had awakened within both of them.

Lindsey was beginning to recover some of her faculties as she lay completely sated on the bed. She contemplated how often in life we don't realize things until we experience them ourselves. Lindsey had never considered how the emotional bond between two people could be amplified by pleasures of the flesh, or how much pleasure of the flesh could be elevated by the emotional bond between two people. She certainly realized both facts after having experienced them with Paul.

Feeling Paul begin to stir beside her, Lindsey hoped that he wasn't going to get up. Lying head to toe wasn't the most intimate position for two people to be in, but it still provided them with the physical contact of lovers in a post-coital bliss.

Although she hoped that Paul wasn't preparing to rise, Lindsey convinced herself that she wouldn't try to stop him if he did. In her mind, doing so would seem selfish and needy.

Paul had no intentions of getting up yet. He simply wanted to get repositioned on the bed so that his head and Lindsey's were more conveniently aligned for them to talk. There were things that he felt he needed to say.

Recognizing Paul's intentions, Lindsey shifted her own position so that he could lay his head on the pillow next to her when he spooned his body against her backside. When Paul draped his arm over her body, Lindsey placed his hand onto her breast and wrapped her arm over his to hold it in place.

Lindsey giggled at Paul's exclamation of "Wow!"

"I never knew you to be a man of such few words, Mr. Eddy," Lindsey teased.

Brushing her hair aside and kissing the back of Lindsey's neck, Paul whispered, "I'm not sure that there are words to describe what we just experienced. I do know that this is the first time that I have felt like a man making love to a woman rather than merely a male having sex with a female of my same species. What we had, what we will always have, is exactly what I had envisioned between us when we were teenagers. No one, and nothing, ever came close to what I knew that you and I could experience together. We just proved that. Do you agree?"

Rolling over to face him, Lindsey teased, "Well, I might agree if you had at least let me get under the covers before so brutally ravaging my body and soul. Can we pull them back now? I'm getting a chill."

Encouraged that Lindsey's words were an indication that she was willing to remain in bed with him, Paul began pulling the covers back on his side of the bed. Following his lead, Lindsey did the same, and the couple soon resumed their face-to-face position under the covers.

Snuggling her head against Paul's shoulder, Lindsey said, "Now I can wholeheartedly agree with your assessment, Mr. Eddy. You have been a part of my world since I was fourteen, and today, you rocked that world to its very core. I have never felt more like a woman until you, my man, took me as your own. I love you."

"I love you too, Miss Norris," Paul confessed. "We needed this."

"Yes, we did," Lindsey agreed. "And we will continue to need this if I have anything to say about it. I can't go back to what we had before today. I need you fully in my life."

Paul kissed Lindsey on the forehead and asked, "What does that look like to you? Long-term, I mean. I trust that you know that I will stand beside you while things with the estate and the investigation into Emily's death play out. What about after that?"

Discussions on the future had been vague and speculative when they had occurred. Lindsey and Paul both understood that their focus had to be on the present, and simply accepted the belief that they would have a future together. It hadn't needed to be set in stone for either of them. Now, it seemed that Paul was seeking more of a commitment, and Lindsey was not opposed to providing one.

"Well," she said, "Let's start with the girls. I have heard them talking between themselves, wondering if I was going to adopt them. To be honest with you, I'm not entirely certain if these discussions are motivated by them wanting to feel like they belong to me rather than me simply being their legal guardian, or whether they see it as a way to rid themselves of their father's last name."

"They really don't want him in their lives, do they?" Paul observed. "I guess it isn't surprising when we consider how he has ignored them their entire lives."

"No, it isn't," Lindsey agreed. "Emily retained the last name Bethel after her divorce from Chet only to keep hers the same as the girls. She had mentioned the girls, and in particular, Megan, asking if her last name would change when Emily eventually remarried. She had not been happy when Emily had explained that unless their father relinquished his parental rights and any new husband adopted them, the girls' last name would remain unchanged until they either married themselves, or petitioned a court to change it after they turned eighteen."

"The same would be true if you adopted them," Paul explained. "As long as their father maintains his parental rights, he alone controls their last name until they turn eighteen."

Lindsey simply said, "I know, but my point is, how would you feel about me adopting Megan and Annie, even if their names didn't get changed as a result?"

"Annie is currently eleven, right?" Paul stated rather than asking. "That means in two years both girls will be old enough to petition for their father's parental rights to be terminated themselves. If we wait until then to adopt them, then their last names would be the same as our own children."

"WE?" exclaimed Lindsey. "I sure hope that you don't have any plans for Thanksgiving, Mr. Eddy, because I'm taking you to Florida to meet my parents."

Chapter Fourteen

"Thank you for coming in, Mr. Powell. Please have a seat."

Ryan Powell simply nodded at Chris Dutton and took the seat indicated for him. It placed him across the table from Dutton and one of the GBI agents who had stopped by his office in Gilmore County yesterday afternoon.

Two GBI agents appearing at his office right after he had returned from lunch had been unexpected. When they explained that they wanted him to accompany them to the GBI headquarters in Decatur, Powell had been even more surprised. Why couldn't they ask him their questions in his office?

While the agents wouldn't reveal the reason for their visit or for wanting Powell to accompany them, they didn't appear to see any urgency in the matter. So, when Powell suggested that the traffic between Ellijay and Decatur, and then back, on a Friday afternoon would be challenging, the agents had agreed to having him drive into the metro area on Saturday morning to meet with them.

Powell supposed that he shouldn't be surprised by how much activity there was at the headquarters for the Georgia Bureau of Investigation on a Saturday morning. Law enforcement operations in the state didn't pause over the weekend. He had to wait in the lobby for almost fifteen minutes before someone came to escort him to the interview room.

"Interview room," Powell smirked to his reflection in the mirror on the wall across from him. This was the stereotypical interrogation room familiar to anyone who had ever watched a movie or television program where the police question a suspect. If these guys were following the script, they'd next ask him if he wanted a cup of coffee.

Chris Dutton took them off script when he said, "Let's get to it. Mr. Powell, I am Chris Dutton, Director of the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. Beside me is Special Agent Mike Cassidy. We would like to ask you a few questions regarding your relationship with the late Emily Bethel. Before we start, I want to advise you of your rights..."

Powell had suspected that the GBI wanted to talk to him about either Emily Bethel or the project that she had been contracted for with the county. He was prepared to cooperate fully, but now that they were reading him his rights, was that the smart thing to do without having an attorney present to represent him?

As Cassidy read the well-known verbiage of the Miranda warning off of a card that he held, Powell considered his position. The professional relationship that had existed between him and Emily had been completely above board and easily justifiable.

The friendship that had been growing into something potentially more personal might be harder for others to understand, especially since he was still married. However, they had not done anything illegal by meeting in private, taking walks along the river, exchanging a few flirtatious text messages, and sharing the occasional meal. Hell, they hadn't even kissed yet.

No, Powell could not envision anything about the relationship with Emily that could be construed as suspicious where her death was concerned. Even if someone wanted to get morally judgmental over his current marital status, Powell had an iron-clad alibi for the time of Emily's death.

Powell had no sooner acknowledged his understanding of his rights when Dutton asked his first question, "Where were you on the afternoon of October eleventh of this year?"

Powell replied without hesitation, "From approximately 9 a.m. on the morning of October 10^th until a little after 6 p.m. on October 11^th, I was at the Atlanta Falcons training facility in Flowery Branch judging a dog show event."

"Can anyone verify that for you?" asked Cassidy.

"There were hundreds of people at the event," Powell explained. "Though probably only a dozen or so would know me personally and be able to testify to my being there."

Cassidy asked, "Can you provide us with names and contact details for anyone who could verify your location on Sunday afternoon?"

From memory, Powell provided the names and phone numbers for two other judges who had been at the event with him on October 11^th. They should be able to corroborate his alibi easily enough.

Powell waited for his interrogators to stop writing and ask their next question. After Cassidy left the room, presumably to call and check the people that Powell had provided, Dutton spoke again, "Mr. Powell, do you recognize the following phone number?"

As soon as the last digit was recited, Powell answered, "Yes, that's my cell phone number. Why?"

"That is the cell phone that you used to send text messages to Emily Bethel?" asked Dutton.

Nodding, Powell replied, "Yes, it is the only cell phone that I have."

"So that is the cell phone that you used to send a text to Emily Bethel on the afternoon of October 11^th?" Dutton persisted.

"Uh," Powell stammered. "I didn't send Emily a text that day. We never communicated on the weekends."

Dutton slid a picture across for Powell to see. "Then how do you explain this text message being received on Emily Bethel's phone, appearing to be sent from your cell phone?"

Glancing at the picture, Powell recognized a copy of a text message from his phone to Emily's. The date and time indicated showed that it had been sent less than an hour before the time that he had been told Emily had the accident that killed her.

Dutton asked, "Do you have your cell phone with you, Mr. Powell?"

Powell silently removed his cell phone from his pocket and set it on the table beside the image of the text message before exclaiming, "I didn't send this! Someone must have spoofed my phone number or something."

Without Powell's explicit permission, they couldn't review anything on his cell phone without a warrant. And, while Dutton had no doubt that the GBI would be granted a warrant if requested, he wanted to attempt to get Powell's cooperation first. He said, "If the text message was sent from another source, then it won't show up on yours. Would you mind showing us your text message history with Emily Bethel?"

Powell slid his phone across to Dutton, and said, "Feel free to check, but it wouldn't be there regardless. I always delete text messages and e-mails from my phone after sending or reading them."

Dutton left the phone where it lay and just stared at Powell. His years of experience interrogating suspects told Dutton that Powell might not be lying, but he was certainly reticent where Emily Bethel was concerned. Powell would not volunteer anything or be forthcoming with information. They were going to have to drag every speck of detail out of him.

"Mr. Powell," Dutton continued. "The presence of the text message on the Verizon servers is irrefutable proof that it was sent from your cell phone at 2:14 p.m. on October 11^th. Please explain to me how that message could have been sent by anyone other than you."

"I haven't a clue," pleaded Powell. "I don't even remember having my cell phone with me that weekend. Since I have to turn it off during the dog show competitions, I have a habit of leaving it at home when I am scheduled to judge. I assume that's what I did that weekend. Can't that be verified by tracking it or something?"

Pushing the phone back towards Powell, Dutton said, "Yes, we can do that, and I assure you that we will. I am curious as to why you would make it a practice to delete all communications from your phone. Are you paranoid about someone reading them, such as your wife?"

Cassidy reentered the room, shaking his head at Dutton to indicate that Powell's alibi had apparently been verified. Powell didn't respond to Dutton's question until Cassidy had retaken his seat.

He said, "I don't like the way that texts can become long communication chains that sometimes make it difficult to follow who said what when. By deleting each message as it is sent or read, I only have to deal with the latest comment. For me, it mimics a verbal conversation where only the last thing said is what you will typically have to reply to. I'm not hiding anything; I just find it less burdensome to manage things that way. Call it personal preference."

"But you did put some effort into concealing your personal relationship with Emily Bethel," Cassidy stated. "Didn't you?"

Frowning, Powell said, "Emily and I both respected the professional aspect of our relationship and tried not to be too brazen in our non-work times together. Beyond our professional relationship, we were merely occasional companions and confidants for each other. Did we conceal our times together? No. Did we flaunt them for the world to see? Again, no. With the exception of the one time when Emily came to my apartment for dinner, we always met in public locations, visible to anyone in the immediate area."

"Aren't you married, Mr. Powell? asked Dutton.

Powell gave an exasperated sigh and said, "My wife and I are currently separated, but to answer your question, yes, I am currently married."

Cassidy asked, "Was your wife someone that you kept in the dark where your relationship with Emily Bethel was concerned?"

Powell didn't like airing the dirty laundry associated with his marriage, so his exasperation was obvious when her replied, "I didn't share anything about Emily with Shelly, my wife, but it wasn't due to me wanting to keep her a secret or anything. Right now, there are a lot of things that I don't feel as comfortable sharing with my wife as a husband should be. That's one of the things that we are trying to work out in our counseling sessions."

"I notice that you're not wearing a wedding ring," Dutton observed. "Tell us, did Emily Bethel know that you were married?"

A visibly flustered Powell snapped, "How the hell would I know? Someone other than me could have mentioned it to her. If she did know, she never mentioned it."

Turning to Cassidy, Dutton said, "Go get started on trying to identify exactly where Mr. Powell's cell phone was for the entire day on October 11^th. Do you still have the number for the phone?"

Tapping his notepad, Cassidy said, "I've got it right here. Give me fifteen minutes."

Dutton waited for the door to close behind Cassidy before continuing, "Tell me about the project that Gilmore County contracted with Emily Bethel for."

Powell sat back in his seat and said, "There has been a drop in various taxes and business fees over the past eighteen months related to outfitters and other tourist-intensive operations. The county contracted with Emily to investigate the possible reasons for these declines in revenue."

"Did you suspect that there was something illegal taking place?" Dutton queried.

"No," Powell admitted. "Personally, I suspected that the cause was a drop in tourism business overall."

Dutton considered this answer for a few seconds before asking, "Did Emily Bethel agree with your suspicion?"

Powell admitted, "I never shared my suspicion with her. I didn't think it was proper to interject my opinion into her investigation."

"Understandable," Dutton said. "Did she come up with any suspicions of her own that she might have shared with you?"

Powell snorted, "Are you kidding? She nailed the cause within a week."

Frowning, Dutton said, "A week? I thought that she was still working on the project when she died. That would have meant that she had been working on it for almost two months."

"Identifying the cause and finding a solution are two different things," Powell explained. "Emily quickly identified that a new employee with the county treasurer had inadvertently changed the coding that affected how taxes and fees were being assessed. If the gross revenue of a business wasn't properly captured and factored into the billing for sales taxes or business license fees, that would explain the decline in revenues. The problem was that it only affected specific businesses."

Dutton asked, "Why only those businesses that were outfitters or tourist-intensive?"

Powell explained, "Most labor associated with services rendered is not taxable. However, any charges for participation in games and amusement activities, such as white-water rafting, guided hikes, and the like, those are taxable. The new employee coded these services incorrectly when calculating the taxable revenue for these operations. The problem was easy to correct going forward, but we were struggling with the best way to recoup taxes not collected due to the mistake. That's what Emily was helping us determine for most of the time that she was working the contract."

The conversation paused when they heard Cassidy reenter the room. Even before taking his seat, Cassidy started asking questions, "Mr. Powell, your driver's license shows your address as 240 Corbet Drive in Ellijay. Can you tell me if you know anyone who lives at 350 Kells Ridge Court?"

Powell glanced at Dutton before answering, "As I mentioned, my wife and I are currently separated. She is still living in our house on Hancock Drive. I am renting an apartment at 350 Kells Ridge Court, but I haven't changed my address with the DMV yet. Is that a problem?"

Cassidy ignored the question and asked one of his own, "Who else besides yourself would have access to your apartment on Kells Ridge Court?"

Shrugging, Powell said, "I assume that the landlord has a key, but no one does as far as I know. Why?"

"Because," Cassidy said as he slipped a printout over for Dutton to review. "That is where your cell phone was located from the afternoon of October 10^th until the morning of October 12^th. If you weren't there, someone else gained access to your apartment and used your cell phone to send a text to Emily Bethel. We need to know who that could have been."

~~~

"No yachts, no mansions, no jets, no signs of obscene wealth anywhere," thought Yvette Rhoades.

She was reviewing everything that the research department at the Boston Globe had dug up on Lindsey Norris, and none of it told the tale of someone as wealthy as her ownership of R.A.N.T. should have indicated.

Norris owned a townhouse in Manchester, New Hampshire, that was estimated to be worth under two hundred thousand dollars. There was no mortgage on the property, but that wasn't any kind of red flag for a single woman making a six-figure income. There was also a modest single-family home in someplace called Spring Place, Georgia, that the property records showed was owned by her, but it was clear that the title had been transferred to her from her parents.

She owned a six-year-old Mercedes SL-550 convertible but no other vehicles. It was probably worth around seventy thousand dollars, again, nothing untoward for a single person with her reported income from her tax returns. Rhoades didn't want to know how the research team had gotten hold of those.

The research team had identified that Lindsey Norris was shown as the original owner of twelve different patents registered with the Patent Office, but simply owning a patent was no indication of its value or worth to the owner. The ownership of all twelve patents had been transferred recently to a trust that had been established in Belize. Access to the details on the trust had hit a roadblock, but it was obvious to Rhoades that Norris had to have been the settlor of the trust in order for her to be able to transfer the patents that she owned to it.

But again, that didn't mean that the trust held a fortune that Norris was attempting to hide from prying eyes. Trusts, especially those in foreign countries with strict privacy laws, were frequently difficult to get many details about. The best that someone not affiliated with the trust could hope for is to learn who was named as the trustee, since this is the person responsible for paying taxes and administering the trust.

The trust in Belize was not likely to provide anyone with even that scant information. Rhoades needed to determine if there might be any U.S.-based trusts that she could tie to Lindsey Norris. The research team hadn't located any, but their searches had focused on Massachusetts and New Hampshire only. Two states not known for their favorable trust regulations.

Going back to the information that the research team had provided her; Rhoades saw that Norris had been born and raised in Georgia up until she had moved to Massachusetts to attend M.I.T. Although she had been offered a full academic scholarship, Norris had not availed herself of the financial assistance.

Checking the profile details further, Rhoades saw that Norris' parents were upper-middle-class, both earning good salaries prior to their retirement. With just Lindsey as their only child, it was reasonable to assume that they had established a college fund for their daughter, and this is what Norris had used to pay for her education.

There were only two credit cards found in Lindsey Norris' name, she had no criminal record, and no record of having been married or having any children by her. She had founded and supposedly run a company that recently sold to the employees for billions of dollars, not to mention the millions that she likely amassed from her patents and other endeavors over the years. Yet, Lindsey Norris had apparently lived the life of a normal, hard-working person, unaffected by wealth or the pursuit of it.

In contemplating the information available to her, Rhoades began to question just how compelling a story about Lindsey Norris would be for readers of the Boston Globe. Sure, if she had been the sole owner of R.A.N.T., as everything tended to indicate, then she had received billions of dollars through the employee buyout. Did the fact that she had apparently taken steps to make her role in this transaction as obscure as she had in itself point to something nefarious?

Rhoades couldn't see that. Not yet, anyway. "Was wanting privacy a criminal act?" The reporter in Rhoades wanted to say that it was, and she was certain that Gail King would feel the same way. Dozens of lottery winners had found their personal lives laid bare against their wishes under the premise that the public had a right to know. Was this different?

Well, with lottery winners, these were publicly sponsored and managed by the state, or states where the lottery tickets were sold. That fact alone had always been used as the justification for requiring the names of lottery winners to be made public knowledge. In the case of Lindsey Norris, it had been a privately held company owned by an individual who had sold it to a group of other private individuals. What rights did the public have now?

The role of celebrity is generally accepted as a condition of fame and broad public recognition of a person or group due to the attention given to them by mass media. Someone isn't a celebrity until one or more major media sources created them through their coverage of them. Based on that definition, Lindsey Norris wasn't yet a celebrity, but if a story about her enormous wealth got published, Rhoades had no doubt that celebrity would most assuredly be a role that Norris found herself playing, whether she liked it or not.

Rhoades reviewed her list of details that she knew she had to obtain before she could even begin to write her story on Norris. The research team would be assigned the items most likely found within a database somewhere, with instructions to expand their scope to include the state of Georgia and those surrounding it. Yvette would focus on the personal interviews of people who had been identified as knowing Lindsey Norris, either at M.I.T. or at R.A.N.T. She had to find out where Norris was before possibly traveling elsewhere to interview other people about her.

~~~

"Twenty hours," Lindsey calculated as she finished getting dressed. It had been a very productive time for them. Emotionally, she and Paul had cemented their love more firmly than either had thought possible.

No, that wasn't really true, because they had both recognized their love for the other prior to this weekend. The time alone had allowed them to express it in it's entirely, which in turn had validated their individual confidence in the love that they shared.

Paul was still shaving in the shower, and Lindsey was deliberately finding things to distract her from the image of his hard, naked, wet body. The body that had so completely controlled her, pleased her, pampered her, and still had so willingly succumbed to her desire to dominate it at times.

It seemed like a contradiction for her to have felt so possessed while Paul's body was on top of hers; yet still knowing that she also possessed him at the same time. She had been simultaneously dominated and sheltered in Paul's embraces, yet she had felt more powerful than at any other time in her life.

They hadn't spent the entire twenty hours in bed, just the best parts of it, as far as Lindsey was concerned. The bed is where the robust periods of physical pleasures had been interspersed with the deep and meaningful conversations about their future. She supposed that she should also count the few hours of sleep that they had shared intertwined with each other.

There were still a lot of things to be decided, but the knowledge that Lindsey and the girls were going to make their home in Spring Place left every other decision as insignificant as far as Paul and Lindsey were concerned.

Paul had suggested that Lindsey not sell her townhouse in New Hampshire right away. His belief was that property searches would be one of the ways that people would be able to track her down if they wanted, because those were public records. She already had her parents' former house in Spring Lake in her name, and even though she didn't live there, the record of it could still point someone to the area. Having the townhouse in New Hampshire also in her name gave inquisitive people two locations to consider.

They agreed that when they returned home, Paul would move into the cabin with Lindsey and the girls. Both agreeing on how much Megan and Annie would likely be expecting this made them laugh. The girls had accepted Lindsey and Paul as a couple and done nothing to discourage that reality. The expected reactions of Karly and Marly were also a source of mirthful laughter for the pair of lovers.

Paul was also contemplating the plans that he and Lindsey had discussed, but in a more serious light. The likelihood of potential legal conflicts from them having a relationship were now greatly reduced, but not entirely eliminated. He could deal with those if they arose. Lindsey's stated concerns related to her privacy and the security of the girls were the thoughts at the forefront of his mind as he dried off from his shower.

He had some ideas on how to mitigate Lindsey's concerns, but he wasn't certain how well they would all be received by her. Paul didn't think that downplaying their relationship around Spring Place would be something that Lindsey would object to, especially if it wasn't done through blatant denial or deception. He knew that his sisters would be excited about him finding someone, but he also knew that he could trust them not to broadcast it all over town.

Lindsey still had a lot of things to do relative to transitioning her life from New Hampshire and Massachusetts to Georgia, including getting a new driver's license. She still hadn't decided on a new car, so when the time came to register one, that would also be a consideration. In Paul's mind, there were some actions that Lindsey could take before getting too established that would pay huge dividends where her privacy was concerned. He just had to convince her to take those actions.

Walking back into the room, Paul saw Lindsey sitting at the small desk reviewing the various brochures that the lodge provided on local restaurants, businesses, sites, and scheduled events. Knowing that the Oktoberfest events and the associated crowds that the historic town of Helen attracted were complete for the season was one reason that he had chosen the Unicoi lodge as the place for them to visit.

"Do you have anything that you want to see or do first?" Paul asked as he began getting dressed.

"Food!" Lindsey exclaimed. "I haven't eaten anything since lunch yesterday."

Paul chuckled but sympathized with Lindsey's plight. He too had foregone any interest in eating last night out of a greater desire to feast on the woman that he had craved for most of his life. Truth be told, he would gladly delay eating this morning if he felt that he could somehow coax Lindsey back into bed.

"Hofer's German bakery in Helen is one option," Paul commented. "But it is likely busy and will take us a while to get served. If you don't mind, I know of a little hole-in-the-wall roadside tavern on the way to Big Bear Lodge that serves a hearty breakfast. Other than a few early morning motorcyclists, the place will likely be almost empty. Are you game?"

Lindsey came and knelt in front of Paul as he sat on the edge of the bed, preparing to put on his shoes. She began impatiently helping him put each one on as she said, "If it gets some form of nourishment into me sooner, I'm game. Can we check out some of the antique stores after that?"

Finished with his shoes, Paul stood and helped Lindsey to her feet, saying, "Of course, but let's get you fed first. I have a vested interest in getting your energy level back up. There's also a couple of ideas that I want to run by you while we eat."

When they pulled into the parking lot, Lindsey could see that this tavern was busier than Paul had implied that it would be. Even if each vehicle currently parked in the lot arrived with only a single occupant, there would still probably be almost two dozen people inside the building. It didn't look big enough from the outside to accommodate many more customers than that.

Recognizing the concern on Lindsey's face, Paul assured her, "We'll find seats at the bar if nothing else."

Walking past several of the full-sized pickup trucks parked in the lot, Lindsey jokingly said, "Wow! These trucks are so well camouflaged that I barely noticed them."

Paul couldn't help chuckling at Lindsey's sarcastic observation. There were four trucks of various brands painted in a mottled green camouflage pattern, which might make them more difficult to see in the wilderness, but simply made them stand out in the gravel parking lot.

After opening the front door for Lindsey, Paul saw that the five or so tables inside the tavern had all been pushed together and were occupied by a group of men, presumably hunters from the way that they were all dressed. The seating at the bar was totally clear, so Paul led Lindsey to one of the stools and then took the one beside her. They both studied the other guests in the mirror behind the bar while waiting for the waitress to notice them. It didn't take too long.

"Coffee?" the disinterested waitress drawled.

Lindsey answered for them both, "Yes, please, black. And menus too if it isn't too much trouble."

The waitress smiled, which surprised Lindsey due to her original attitude that she had exhibited. Then she saw that her smile was directed at Paul and not herself. Paul appearing oblivious to this made Lindsey smile.

Without further comment, the waitress poured them each a cup of hot black coffee and placed menus on the bar in front of them. She said, "The ham and cheese omelet is on special this morning. It comes with hash browns and either toast or a biscuit. I'll give you a minute to decide."

They studied their menus for a few moments before Lindsey nodded towards the mirror to get Paul's attention on it. She said, "They all seem to be together. It must be some sort of club or organization that meets here."

Glancing up from his menu, Paul studied the group in the mirror. The conversation among the group had grown quieter, and the mumbled words could not be understood, but he did notice one of the members of the group glaring at them as he seemed to be speaking out of the side of his mouth to the others.

He lowered his own voice when he said to Lindsey, "They don't seem like a very welcoming bunch."

Apparently overhearing Paul, the waitress offered, "They're just a bunch of suspicious a-holes. Don't let them bother you. I expect that they'll all be heading out soon. None of them want to be here when the Outlaws start coming in."

"The Appalachian Outlaws?" Lindsey asked.

Ignoring the question, the waitress asked, "So, what can I get you two for breakfast?"

After placing their orders, Lindsey asked the waitress, "Don't they eat?"

She had noticed that there were no plates or any signs that the group at the tables had either already eaten or might be preparing to. The tables were bare except for the napkin dispensers salt and pepper shakers, and coffee cups scattered around each of the occupants.

The waitress scoffed, "We don't have any freeze-dried or canned rations. Those a-holes don't trust our cooked food but they have no problem draining a half-dozen pots of our coffee every weekend morning."

Paul understood what the waitress was implying by her comment. He asked, "They're survivalists?"

"They're weekend survivalists," she confirmed. "They head up here most weekends from their McMansions in the suburbs of Atlanta to check on their cabins, bunkers, caves, or treehouses. Some of them might hunt on occasion, but most just hang out sharing their conspiracy theories and taking inventory of their stores. Like I said, once the Outlaws hit the roads around here, those losers run into the trees to avoid them. Let me get your order in, then I'll warm up your coffee."

Paul took the opportunity while drinking from his coffee cup to once more study the group in the mirror. The one who had been glaring at them now had a look of determined anger on his - wait, that wasn't a guy. Paul could now see the more feminine features of the person beneath the flannel shirt and dirty baseball cap. She was definitely female, and she definitely appeared pissed off about something.

Bills of undeterminable denominations began landing on the tables as the entire group seemed to rise at the same time, preparing to leave. Bodies started exiting the tavern for the parking lot, but the lone woman among the group just stood rigid, watching Paul and Lindsey from behind while catching their eyes in the mirror over the bar.

Her eyes focused on the reflected face of Lindsey when the woman finally shouted, "Quit following me, Bitch! And stay the fuck away from my husband!"

Lindsey's eyes grew wide in surprise. Before she could turn around on her stool, Michelle Powell had left the room.

Chapter Fifteen

Hearing the giggles emanating from somewhere outside their bedroom, Lindsey whispered, "I guess our attempt at maintaining a PG-13 environment isn't working out as planned."

Paul rolled off of Lindsey and replied, "I actually think that you did an admirable job suppressing your verbal expressions of pleasure. You were much more sedate than while at the lodge. You are the first woman I've ever been with to display so much passion. You, we, were in the glory of the moment, far beyond anything I've experienced. It's the first time the words 'as one' ever meant anything to me."

She had to admit, Lindsey did love being unrestrained in her responses to Paul, and him being equally uninhibited in his responses to her. She would have to consider how to explain things to Megan and Annie so that they would be more discreet about what they might occasionally hear now that Paul was sharing her bed. If needed, she would buy them both noise-cancelling headphones to wear around the house.

Checking the time, Paul continued, "It's only five-thirty. What are the girls doing up so early? I doubt that we woke them. I grew up in this house and I know that none of us ever heard my parents doing anything while we were in our own rooms. My sisters would have had a field day if they had. The sound doesn't travel that well in this house."

Lindsey scooted out of bed and headed for the bathroom, saying, "I forgot that I am supposed to help Annie bake a batch of cookies for her class bake sale. Megan would be able to help her, but I promised that I would join them. There's no hurry for you to get up if you want to try to get a little more sleep."

"Nope," Paul said as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and prepared to get up. "I live here now so I get to partake in all the planned activities along with everyone else. However, I'll go ahead and get my shower out of the way first so that it is free for you later."

"You bastard!" Lindsey thought to herself. She had made it abundantly clear to Paul during their time at the lodge that his strong, wet body against hers was an erotic paradise that she wanted to dwell in forever. Just the thought of him being naked in the shower stimulated and aroused her more than she would have ever imagined possible.

She was now determined to get a hot tub installed at the cabin by the end of the week. It wouldn't afford them the privacy of showering together, but they would both reap the benefits of what the time in the hot tub would inspire within her.

"We decide to go ahead and get breakfast ready," Annie explained to Lindsey when she joined the two girls in the kitchen. "Biscuits sounded good and cooking them first will get the oven ready for the cookies."

"The coffee is ready, and now I'm making the gravy," Megan announced. "Do you know if Uncle Judge likes biscuits and gravy, Aunt Lin?"

Laughing at what she was about to reveal, Lindsey said, "Girls, I guarantee that Paul would happily eat anything that either of you fixed for him. The fact that you made it would be all that he would need to know."

Megan pouted, "That's not a very stellar testament to our food being good if he eats it just because we made it. Although, he did really seem to like our apple cobbler."

"I loved your apple cobbler," Paul replied as he entered the kitchen. Is that what we're having for breakfast?"

Annie piped up, "No, we're making biscuits and gravy. Do you like that?"

"That's my favorite breakfast!" Paul exclaimed. "How did you know?"

Megan answered for her sister, "We didn't. We were worried that you might not like it."

Paul placed an arm around each of the girls and said, "Let me tell you something that my grandma always told me. There are only two things in life that you ever have to worry about..."

"What are those?" asked a curious Annie.

"The only things that you ever have to worry about," Paul explained, "Is whether you're healthy or sick. If you're healthy, you have nothing to worry about, and if you're sick, you only have two things to worry about."

"Which are?" Megan asked skeptically.

Lindsey had heard this routine before, so she busied herself pouring coffee for her and Paul while he continued, "If you're sick, all you have to worry about is whether you'll get better or worse. If you'll get better, then you have nothing to worry about, but if you'll get worse, you only have two things to worry about."

This time, Annie asked, "What?"

Paul continued, "If you'll get worse, all you have to worry about is whether you'll live or whether you'll die. If you'll live, you have nothing to worry about. If you die, you only have two things to worry about; whether you go to heaven or go to hell. If you go to heaven, then you have nothing to worry about. If you go to hell, you only have two things to worry about."

Megan rolled her eyes, finally understanding the path that this was taking, and asked, "And what might those be?"

Paul kissed Megan on the top of her head before answering, "Whether you want original or extra crispy."

Turning away from the stove, Megan tightly hugged Paul as she mumbled into his chest, "Do you know how long I have waited to hear silly dad jokes? I love you, Uncle Judge."

Lindsey had to grab a dish towel to dab at the tears in her eyes. It had amazed her for weeks how everything between her and Paul had seemed natural and effortless, but to see the way that he and the girls had already bonded was more rewarding than she could have imagined. They were a family in all senses except legally.

Hearing the timer for the oven chime, Lindsey helped Annie remove the biscuits before pouring coffee for herself and Paul. She placed a carton of milk on the table for the girls. Paul was setting the table under the supervision of Megan, while she was pouring the sausage gravy into the gravy boat.

Lindsey was just ready to say, "Let's get this party started," when Annie and Megan simultaneously beat her to it, causing Paul to choke on his first sip of hot coffee.

~~~

Lindsey wasn't sure how she felt about domestication. She was largely ambivalent about it. On the one hand, she was grateful that she had the luxury of being able to consider it as a lifestyle. However, after years of a virtually non-stop career-focused life, now watching her guy head off for work and her kids being sent off to school was foreign to her. She didn't mind the cleaning and other chores that would occupy her time for an hour or so each morning, but Lindsey knew that she would go absolutely stir crazy if she didn't find something else to bring value to her existence.

Well, in the short-term, Lindsey still had the administration of Emily's estate as well as the investigation into her murder and the attack on her home. Where the estate was concerned, that was currently a waiting game.

All the accounts had been accessed and their values established for the planned trust. The insurance and investment companies had all been sent the letters of administration and a certified copy of Emily's death certificate. The required notifications had been placed in the local paper to allow any creditors or other parties the opportunity to stake their claim to a portion of the estate.

Janice had the tax paperwork underway, with only specific dollar amounts to be filled in once the probate was completed. Everything currently seemed to be just a waiting game for the prescribed probate period to run its course.

The investigation into Emily's murder was another matter. Paul and Lindsey had purposely avoided the subject over their weekend getaway, but that didn't mean that she hadn't thought about it. She had updated Cecil on the details that the GBI had revealed about the tires and paint suspected to belong to the vehicle that had forced Emily off the highway. Even though it had only been four days, two of which fell on a weekend, Lindsey was confident that Cecil would have some information for her when he contacted her this morning.

Standing under the warm water in the shower, Lindsey forced herself to think of something other than Paul's body holding her when they had showered together at the lodge. Instead, she thought back to the days immediately following Emily's death.

She had maintained control. No one would have guessed that to Lindsey, it felt like her world was crumbling down all around her. While she had held no allusions that she would ever find love again, as she had experienced with Eddie, Lindsey had shared with Emily her dreams of finally being free to pursue a more meaningful relationship with someone; to possibly have a family of her own someday.

As opposed to resenting the responsibility of being named the guardian for Emily's daughters, Lindsey had felt blessed. Although her dreams had always involved Lindsey raising her own children, Megan and Annie were almost the same thing in her eyes. She had been like a second mother to them since their births. If her reality after Emily's death was that she would be shouldering the burden alone, so be it.

Then Paul had appeared. Her Eddie. The love that she never thought she would know again had returned. He had mended her life and was making her dreams a reality. She needed to do the same for him. Lindsey needed to find ways for them all to live as normal a life as possible, which began with keeping them all safe.

Paul was reasonably safe. He carried a gun, knew how to take care of himself, and was surrounded for large portions of his day by armed law enforcement officers. The girls had two female guards stationed in the lobby at each of their schools, and they were augmented by one male security person who drove them all to and from school. There were two more security personnel outside of the cabin, one of whom would drive Lindsey anywhere that she needed to go when Paul wasn't available.

Them all being protected from danger wasn't good enough. Lindsey needed to do all she could to make the danger go away. That was her mission this morning, and it started with her getting an update from Cecil. What she learned from him would guide the rest of her day.

As intended, these thoughts had distracted Lindsey enough that her shower had remained entirely utilitarian. She quickly dried herself and got dressed. Within minutes, she was at her laptop and prepared to check for any e-mails from Cecil. First, she had to respond to the text message that had just arrived from Paul.

He was asking her to join him for lunch, followed by a meeting with Chris Dutton for an update from the GBI on their investigation. The thought of seeing Paul in just a couple of hours buoyed Lindsey's spirits. Even if it would be in a public setting and not last as long as she would have liked, just seeing him in the middle of the day would be cathartic for her. Lindsey happily accepted Paul's invite before turning her attention to the e-mail that had arrived from Cecil.

Cecil had been quite busy. Judging by the novel-length e-mail that he had composed, Lindsey doubted that he had slept more than a few hours since she had sent him the specifics on the tire and paint. Lindsey had assumed that the search for the tires would be the easiest due to the brand. There couldn't be that many tires manufactured by the foreign company, Leao Tire, sold in the general area of north Georgia.

There had been none. The closest dealer for Leao Tire that Cecil had identified as selling LT305/55R22 size tires within the past two years was located in Mississauga, in the Canadian province of Ontario. The last purchase had been to a customer named, Michaela Meyers, in February of 2025. She had paid cash and left no address when purchasing the set of tires for her 2005 Dodge Power Wagon. Cecil had found no further information on her in any of the Canadian public record databases.

Lindsey was disappointed that Cecil hadn't been able to locate any further details on the Dodge Power Wagon, since it sounded like the type of vehicle that could have easily pushed Emily's car off the highway. She knew that the sale and transfer of vehicles between Canada and the United States were common, but without the vehicle identification number, or even a license plate number, they couldn't determine if this Michaela Meyers may have sold the truck to someone else, or who that might have been. She read Cecil's attempts to do so before moving on to his research on the paint.

Cecil didn't find any records for a vehicle brand other than a Honda being painted Honda Aegean Blue metallic. Almost every sales record for this particular paint, from the manufacturer through the distributors and finally the dealers had indicated that the purchase was for a Honda vehicle requiring repainting due to body work to repair accident damage. There were two purchases which indicated that they were for special orders by consumers who apparently intended to repaint their own vehicles.

One of these special orders was still in stock at the paint dealer located in Austin, Texas. The customer had forfeited their deposit and never picked up the paint. The second special order was shipped to a paint dealer in Clayton, Georgia, where the customer who picked it up gave her name as Michaela Meyers.

~~~

"Can I confess something to you?"

Lindsey's disconcerted tone sounded out of character for her, and Paul was curious about her expressing it as they were walking back to the courthouse after a quiet and, up until now, enjoyable lunch.

He answered, "Sure. What's on your mind?"

Without hesitation, Lindsey admitted, "I made a decision about something at the house this morning without discussing it with you. Fortunately, I caught myself before acting on that decision, but I want to apologize for it nonetheless. Paul, we may all live in the house, but you are the man of the house and that needs to be respected. I promise to do better and will make certain that the girls recognize your role as well."

"Lin," Paul chuckled. "You've met my sisters. Do you think that they would have tolerated being raised in some patriarchal environment or allowed their only brother to develop beliefs along those lines? I trust you. I trust that if you make a decision about the house or anything else, you are doing so with the best intentions and after a lot of careful thought."

Smirking playfully, Lindsey said, "In this case, I might not have initially thought to discuss it with you, but the decision was made based upon thoughts of you. I guess I should give myself credit for that at least."

"Now I need to know what this decision involved," Paul teased.

Lindsey leaned up and kissed Paul on the cheek before saying, "Well, I won't go into the sordid thought process in my mind right now, but we can cover it in detail tonight at home. Let's just say that it culminated in me deciding to have a hot tub installed at the house."

Paul was shaking his head and laughing as he pulled out his cell phone and began searching for something on it. Turning it so that Lindsey could read the screen, he said, "Take a look at this."

The cell screen showed a text message from Paul's brother-in-law, Matt Nelson. It contained only someone's name and a phone number that Matt was apparently sharing with Paul. "What am I looking at?" Lindsey asked.

"That's the architect referral that I asked Matt for," Paul explained. "While driving to the courthouse this morning I was thinking that now might be a good time for me to have a natatorium added onto the house. I never wanted to do it while it was just being rented out, but since we are all living in it now, why not? It would be relatively easy to incorporate a hot tub in it along with the pool. What do you think?"

Lindsey stood silently reviewing her memory of the layout for the cabin before answering, "With the basement under the house, how far away would the natatorium need to be built to not create any foundation issues or anything?"

Pleased that she was considering his idea, Paul said, "I think we would want it close enough so that it could be connected to the house through a breezeway at the very least. We wouldn't want to have to access it by walking outside during the winter or even when it's raining. That's why I want an architect involved in the thought process. The location of the leach field for the septic system would also need to be considered."

"You know," Lindsey thought out loud. "There is something else that the house could use that might play into where we locate the natatorium. It would be nice if we could build an attached garage onto the house. Then, maybe the access to the natatorium could come from that."

Paul put his phone away and smiled wickedly at Lindsey, "Please tell me that you've had sordid thoughts about me in a garage, because I'll confess to having had sordid thoughts about you involving the back seat of a car."

Fanning her face for effect, Lindsey muttered, "Now is not the time or place for either of us to divulge our sordid thoughts, Your Honor. I would like to request a continuance of the matter until this evening."

"I'll grant your continuance," Paul said as he held the doors to the courthouse open for her. "On one condition. When we get behind closed doors in my office, you let me kiss you properly."

Lindsey winked seductively and said, "Your Honor, I believe that is truly the only way that justice will be served for both of us this afternoon."

Unfortunately, the director of the GBI and another of his agents had arrived early and were waiting outside the judge's office. While Paul could have had them directed to the conference room to wait, he didn't want to blatantly sneak away with Lindsey in such a public fashion. Well, he wanted to but proper decorum overruled that desire.

Fortunately, Lindsey had his back when she said, "Your Honor, I left my files and everything in your office when we went to lunch. Maybe you could allow me to retrieve them while these gentlemen wait for us in the conference room."

"Of course," Paul readily agreed. "Connie, please show our guests to the conference room. I will escort Miss Norris to my office to get her things and then we'll join them shortly."

If either Chris Dutton or Agent Cassidy noticed the blush on Lindsey's face or the bulge in the front of Paul's pants when they entered the conference room, they were discreet enough not to make mention of it.

As before, Lindsey and Paul took seats next to each other on the opposite side of the table from the GBI guests. Lindsey opened the files in front of her and began speaking before anyone else, "I hope you don't mind, but I've been given some information that I want to share with you."

Lindsey wanted to take the lead because she didn't anticipate that the GBI would have anything significant to share from its own investigation. They hadn't in the past anyway. She slid the details on the tires across for the GBI agents to review first.

"The research that I requested on my end indicates that the transaction detailed in this report most closely aligns with the type of tire and likely the vehicle involved in Emily's murder." Lindsey paused to let the two agents study the report before continuing, "I know that the transaction having taken place in Canada might raise some doubt in your minds, but if you consider it in conjunction with what I have learned about the color paint on the vehicle, I believe that your doubts will be appeased."

She slid the second report across to them and waited.

Dutton was the first to finish reviewing both reports. He looked up at Lindsey and asked, "Do you have any idea who this Michaela Meyers is? Is there any mention of her in the files you reviewed from your friend's records, business or personal?"

"No," Lindsey admitted. "But I just received this information a few hours ago and haven't been able to review everything in Emily's files against it. I do know that the name is not one that I am familiar with from my previous reviews. I know of no ties between this Michaela Meyers and Emily. I do find it curious that her name is associated with the type of tires, the type of vehicle involved, and the paint color of that vehicle."

Dutton glanced at Cassidy as he said, "Well, we'll certainly look into her, but in both Canada and locally, right?"

Nodding, Cassidy took out his cell phone and started composing a text message. He paused and said, "Give me one second to get started on that and then I'll update you on what we have learned since last week."

Paul and Lindsey waited patiently for Cassidy to finish his text. When he put his phone back into his pocket, they were ready to give him their undivided attention.

"The text message sent from Ryan Powell's cell phone to Emily Bethel just before her death appears to hold greater significance than we originally suspected," Cassidy stated.

Paul asked, "How so?"

Cassidy and Dutton spent fifteen minutes providing an update on their interrogation of Ryan Powell, his verified alibi for the time of Emily's death, and the likelihood that someone had accessed his vacant apartment in order to use Powell's phone to send the message that apparently lured Emily out on that fateful afternoon.

"We know that the message was sent from his cell phone," Lindsey exclaimed. "Now you're telling us that someone else actually sent it using Ryan Powell's phone while he wasn't even home and he knew nothing about it?"

"That's right," Dutton confirmed. "And, whoever it was, they are familiar enough with Powell's routines to know that he always deletes texts and e-mails from his phone after sending or receiving them."

Paul asked, "Who else has a key to Powell's apartment? I assume that you verified that there was no forced entry?"

"Powell claims that no one has a key besides himself and the property manager," Cassidy said. "We were not able to confirm this with the property manager over the weekend but we have agents heading there to interview him right now."

There was a soft knock on the conference room door immediately before it opened, and Paul's assistant stuck her head in, "Your Honor, something just came in that I think that you'll want to see."

Rising, Paul addressed Lindsey, "I'd better go see what's up. Why don't you share your encounters with Powell's wife while I'm gone?"

~~~

"You told me that it wasn't going to be appealed," Lindsey hissed.

Unfazed by her client's tone, Mylene Monroe replied, "That's what I was told by Bethel's attorney." She had rushed to meet with her client as soon as word of the appeal of the custody motion had reached her.

Judge Eddy could not be part of these discussions, and was considering his options for hearing the appeal himself, if granted, or passing it on to another judge. The fact that he was now cohabitating with one of the parties in the case could not be ignored.

Janice Evers asked, "On what grounds are they basing their appeal?" She was concerned that the attack on Emily's home might have made their father think that he could use that to demonstrate that his daughters would be safer with him as their guardian.

"Lindsey's financial status," Mylene explained. "They are still attempting to show that she will benefit financially by being granted custody of the Bethel girls, and this is her sole motivation for seeking guardianship."

Lindsey paced around Janice Evers' office as she considered this news. For years, she had wanted to literally bury Chet Bethel because of the way that he had treated her best friend and his daughters, and she suspected that Cecil knew someone who could make that desire a reality. Lindsey couldn't do that but she had no qualms about burying him in a figurative sense.

The problem was that, for her to do that without making it too obvious to Chet or anyone else, Lindsey was forced to work slower than the present circumstances might warrant. As long as Chet Bethel had enough financial resources available to him, and an interest in what custody of his daughters would provide to him, he would remain a thorn in her side.

"Okay," Lindsey said. "Let's think about this. I already nixed any concerns that Judge Roane had about my financial status, but she didn't share that information with Chet or his attorney. Do you think that doing so would convince them that an appeal is pointless?"

Janice spoke before Mylene, "When you and I put that data together for the hearing, it listed just your monthly income from the annuities. While significant, I don't think that we can count on Bethel and his attorney accepting it as adequate when compared to his personal wealth. Now, if we included your total net worth, it would blow them out of the water, but it would also expose your situation to them."

"Conflicted" didn't begin to describe Lindsey's feelings. She wanted to ruin Chet Bethel, but she wanted him out of their lives just as much, if not more. Bleeding him financially as some sort of restitution for his lack of support and ignoring of his daughters pales compared to Lindsey's desire to have Megan and Annie free of any relationship with him. Denying him any benefit from Emily's death had been her focus, but Lindsey now needed to weigh the price of this commitment where her privacy and the welfare of the girls were concerned.

Then there was Paul. Well, she and Paul. Their relationship was not common knowledge, but that was certain to change when Paul had to recuse himself from the custody hearing appeal. Lindsey knew in her heart that Paul would place her and the girls ahead of his career, but she also knew that she would do everything in her power to protect him.

Mylene's question brought Lindsey back to the conversation with her lawyers, "What situation would be exposed?"

Janice blushed and stammered, "Uh, I'm sorry."

"No worries," Lindsey assured Janice. "I forgot that we hadn't brought Mylene in on all of my financial details."

Mylene huffed, "Well, would someone care to enlighten me now?"

Without hesitating further, Lindsey explained, "The financial status that we provided to Judge Roane showed me with an annual income in six figures, right?"

Nodding, Mylene said, "Yeah, so?"

Lindsey shrugged as she said, "My actual net worth is somewhere in the eleven-figure range. I am one of the wealthiest women in the country."

Mylene didn't flinch or otherwise react to this news. She simply asked, "And obviously, you want to keep that fact as quiet as possible. Understandable. Do you have an accountant or someone that we can work with to possibly expound upon your financial stability without divulging more than we need to in order to satisfy the court and Charles Bethel's legal team?"

"Wait a second," Janice interrupted. "If Lindsey's full financial status was revealed in court, wouldn't the details be sealed along with everything else pertaining to the custody matter?"

Lindsey perked up and looked to Mylene for her answer. She wasn't thrilled by what she heard, "I wouldn't want to rely upon that. The intention of sealing the case was to protect the children involved, not to protect Lindsey. If Bethel or his attorney were to leak details on Lindsey's finances for whatever reason, the court would likely consider that allowable since it wouldn't affect the girls directly."

Frustrated, Lindsey said, "Listen, I think we all know that Chet Bethel has no real interest in raising his daughters. His motivations are entirely centered around getting control of the trust, which holds half ownership of the carpet mill, as well as the assets of Emily's estate. I want to talk to Paul this evening to see what ideas we can come up with to make Bethel back off for good. Can we reconvene here tomorrow morning?

"Just make sure that your ideas are legal," Mylene warned.

Lindsey made a mental note to only share any legal ideas with Mylene Monroe. She had a sense that Janice would want all ideas shared with her.

~~~

Sitting in the back seat of the car that her security team had assigned for her transportation, Lindsey could not remember ever having a day do such a complete one-eighty. From the almost euphoric mood that her morning escapades with Paul had created, to the teasingly joyful lunch, the day had seemed idyllic in its promise.

Having to cut the meeting with the GBI short before they had heard from the agents investigating who might have had access to Ryan Powell's apartment had been frustrating for Lindsey. Learning of the motion being filed to appeal the custody ruling had been infuriating for her. Reading the Boston Globe article on the employee buyout of R.A.N.T. and the implications related to her hiding untold billions of dollars had Lindsey almost blind with rage.

"This was not her life!"

Lindsey Norris controlled her life; her life didn't control her. Since Emily's death, she had allowed too much to be decided by others, and that needed to change. Starting with who had killed her best friend.

Going back to the text message that held the link to the Boston Globe article, Lindsey hit the reply icon. While unrelated to the linked article, her text message to Cecil would be clearly understood by him, "The gloves come off. Find out who Michaela Meyers is and where she is. Give the information to me, no one else."

Lindsey didn't like keeping secrets from Paul, but he had to be shielded from her actions where Emily's murder investigation was about to go. She would definitely get him involved with her plans to eliminate Chet Bethel from the lives of his daughters. Lindsey wanted Paul to play a major role in her plans there.

Where the Boston Globe article and implied investigation into her financial windfall were concerned, Lindsey had a few ideas, mainly centered around making her digital footprint more difficult to track. Cecil would also be able to handle that for her. Lindsey would again look to Paul for his input and advice on how best to proceed with this, but she wanted to have a plan in place and implemented prior to their visit to her parents for Thanksgiving.

This reminded her that she still needed to call her parents to verify that the visit would not conflict with any plans that they might have for the holiday. Lindsey doubted that her parents would have other plans since they had always made her aware of their desire to have her spend the holiday with them, but she owed them the courtesy of asking. She wanted to confirm the exact dates with Paul again though before calling her parents.

Lindsey saw the security team transporting Megan and Annie ready to pull into the driveway for the cabin a few hundred feet in front of the car she was in. That didn't surprise her. What did surprise her was seeing the car stop to allow another vehicle to exit the driveway. It was the vehicle transport delivering her Mercedes from New Hampshire.

The delivery was early. They had apparently discovered that no one was at the location to sign for the delivery and were leaving to return at a later time. After instructing her driver to pull over and stop, Lindsey stepped out of the car and flagged down the driver of the vehicle transport.

When the window was rolled down, the driver asked, "Are you Lindsey Norris?"

Nodding, Lindsey instructed, "Yes. If you pull into the driveway leading to the orchard over there, you will be able to turn around and save yourself a return trip."

The driver nodded in response before rolling his window back up and following Lindsey's directions. Lindsey hurried back into the back seat of the car and was soon deposited in front of the cabin where the girls awaited her.

As soon as the security teams had moved their cars, the vehicle transport was pulling into the driveway. Megan asked, "Is that the car that you took me to the mall in that time when you bought me the bathing suit because I had forgotten to pack mine?"

Placing a hand on each girl's shoulder, Lindsey said, "Yes, it is. I'm surprised that you remember it. That was three years ago."

"The top was down," Megan replied. "It looks cooler with the top down."

"I agree," Lindsey said. "But keeping the top up while on the back of the truck made sense."

"Can we go for a ride in it?" Annie asked as they watched the car being lowered off the back of the truck.

Megan answered for Lindsey, "It only has two seats. We would have to take turns. I've already ridden in it, so if Aunt Lin wants to give you a ride, you can go first."

Giving the girls a ride in the Mercedes just might be what Lindsey needed at the moment to distract her from all the issues that she was going to have to deal with. Seeing the interest that the girls expressed in the car also gave her an idea that she would run past Paul later. Megan would be turning sixteen in a year and a half. Should a young girl her age be given a Mercedes roadster as her first car?

Chapter Sixteen

"Okay," Lindsey said as she crawled naked back into bed beside Paul. "We can drive to Atlanta on Friday after the girls get out of school, spend the night, and then fly into Jacksonville the next morning. Or, you can let me charter us a plane that will fly us directly from Dalton to Flagler Executive Airport in Palm Coast on Friday night. My parents could pick us up and we wouldn't even need a rental car while we were there."

Once she had confirmed that Paul could take the week of Thanksgiving off entirely, Lindsey had called her parents to get their agreement to having her, Paul, and the girls as guests over the holiday. Megan and Annie had always been like the grandkids that her parents never had, so Lindsey knew that simply mentioning that they would be coming would have sealed the deal and made her parents change any other plans that they may have had for the holiday.

Paul adjusted his position on the bed to allow Lindsey to lie next to him and rest her head on his shoulder while he leaned against the headboard. The melancholy mood that both had been in over the events of the day had dampened any sexual desires, but the desire for intimacy between them was as strong as ever.

Once she was settled, he muttered, "Let me think about it."

He really didn't need to think about it. The idea of flying to Florida rather than driving fit perfectly into the proposal that he had for Lindsey. The proposal that he wanted to make at a time and place that was more meaningful for both of them.

Lindsey apologized once more, "I'm sorry that all of this crap has you involved as much as it does. I know that you love me and the girls, but you don't deserve all of this baggage being heaped on you."

Pulling her tighter against his side, Paul said, "Nonsense. I am the luckiest man in the world. The only reason that I get to share these things with you is because you have blessed me by including me in your life. Now, let's discuss how to get Chet Bethel out of our lives forever."

Before Lindsey had taken the return phone call from her parents, they had been discussing the appeal of the custody ruling and what their options might be. While Paul had expressed his doubts about any judge ruling in favor of Bethel over Lindsey where custody of Megan and Annie was concerned, he had agreed with her that keeping the matter out of the courts would serve to protect Lindsey's financial situation best.

"What did you have in mind?" Lindsey asked him.

"As long as you trust me and are willing to bite the bullet on giving Bethel more than he deserves, I think we can reach an agreement that satisfies everyone involved," Paul said. He explained his ideas to Lindsey and was pleased to feel her smile against his shoulder.

Lindsey remained silent, but was thinking, "Lindsey Norris can giveth, and Lindsey Norris can taketh away."

~~~

"This is a very opulent place," Lindsey observed. "Having seen your office at the courthouse and how you live on a daily basis, I must say that this is not something I would have expected as the offices of Eddy Law."

Paul glanced around the lobby of his former law offices and understood Lindsey's comment. He said, "Unfortunately, in the eyes of potential clients, opulence equates to power, and a powerful attorney is what they are typically looking to hire."

Lindsey was about to whisper a teasing comment related to just how "powerful" she knew that Paul was when she heard her name being called, "Miss Norris, if you'll follow me, I will take you to the conference room."

Taking Paul's hand, Lindsey followed the adorable black girl who had announced her intention to escort them. The receptionist was still seated in the lobby, so this girl must have some other role here. Secretary? Paralegal? Lindsey decided that there was no point in guessing.

Upon entering the conference room, Lindsey immediately recognized Ariel Brenner and her client, Chet Bethel, who were seated next to each other on one side of the large conference table. She didn't recognize the man who was rising to greet them from his seat at the head of the table. She was happy to see the look of shocked surprise on the faces of Brenner, Bethel, and the strange man as they all took in the presence of Paul beside her.

"Paul?" Adam Wyatt croaked as he hurried over to shake the hand of his former, and some might consider current boss, "I mean, Your Honor. We weren't expecting the judge hearing the appeal to be participating in this meeting..."

It apparently hadn't registered with anyone else in the room that Lindsey still had a possessive hold on Paul's left hand. She released it so that she could offer her right hand for Wyatt to shake, "I'm Lindsey Norris. Since I fully expect that our negotiations here today will eliminate the need for Paul to preside over an appeal of the custody ruling involving your client's daughters, I have retained him to represent me as my attorney here today. Does anyone have a problem with that?"

Taking Lindsey's arm and leading her toward seats at the table across from Ariel and Bethel, Paul said matter-of-factly, "That was a redundant question by my client since it makes no difference whether anyone has a problem with me representing her or not. Take a seat, Adam. Let's get this party started."

Lindsey had to suppress a laugh at Paul's use of her signature phrase. She could tell that they had caught the opposition flat-footed by her showing up with Paul to represent her. Any game plan that they had formulated to intimidate her in these negotiations was now shot to shit. Lindsey knew it, Wyatt knew it, Brenner knew it, but as usual, Chet Bethel was late to the game.

"It doesn't matter who you have representing you," Chet bellowed. "We'll fight you to the fucking Supreme Court if that's what it takes for me to get custody of my daughters. I'll bankrupt you with legal fees and if you try to use any of my daughters' money to fight me, that will only prove my case further."

Paul ignored Bethel's outburst as he removed a sheet of paper from his briefcase and slid it across to Ariel Brenner. He explained, "Miss Brenner, that is a non-disclosure agreement covering everything that we will be discussing here today. Please review it with your client. Unless that document, and the similar ones that you and Mr. Wyatt will be presented with are signed, we have nothing further to discuss here."

Bethel was about to object when Ariel placed a hand on his arm and explained, "You remember how we agreed that sealing the records on the custody hearing would benefit you with your pending paternity cases? Everyone agreeing to confidentiality here today works the same way. It's not just about what we learn from Miss Norris, it also covers what she learns about you. As your attorney, I recommend that you sign the NDA."

Paul wondered if Adam Wyatt would catch what his associate had missed. The NDA that he had presented provided restrictions on what Bethel and his attorneys could reveal. It placed no similar restrictions on himself or Lindsey. His question was answered when each attorney signed their copy of the NDA without reviewing its contents, just as their client had.

Paul notarized each of the signed agreements before sliding them back into his briefcase, and removing another set of documents. He slid these across to Bethel, and said, "Let's start with the financial statement for my client that was provided to Judge Roane at the custody hearing. I believe that Miss Norris is best positioned to explain it to everyone."

Lindsey took a moment to enjoy the shocked expression on the faces of Ariel Brenner and Adam Wyatt as they reviewed the financial statement before them, but she relished the draining of all color from Chet Bethel's face the most when the realization of what he was seeing became clear to him.

"So that you understand," Lindsey began. "I wasn't merely an employee of Robotics and Neural Technologies. I was its founder and sole owner until last month when I agreed to, and structured, a buyout from my employees."

Locking her eyes on Chet, Lindsey addressed him directly, "Even before the billions that I received in the buyout, I was rich enough to own your very soul any time I wanted. The only reason that I never came after you for the way that you treated Emily and her daughters was her asking me not to. You don't have her to protect you from me any longer, asshole, so consider that as we make our proposal to you. That and the fact that your attorneys should be able to tell you that your financial situation will never position you more favorably over me where custody of Emily's daughters is concerned. Appealing the ruling is, and always will be, a lost cause for you."

"On that note," Paul said, sliding more documents across the table. "My client is willing to make her being granted custody of Emily Bethel's daughters more palatable for you. Let's start with the house. This is the insurance settlement from the fire. As you can see, my client has instructed that the funds to be directed first to paying off the remaining mortgage balance on the home. If you agree to our proposal today, the residual funds will be directed to you, along with a quit claim deed naming Charles Bethel as the new owner of the property. You can rebuild on the property, sell it, or keep it as an investment. The choice will be yours."

Ariel asked suspiciously, "What is your proposal?"

"Patience, Counselor," Paul chided.

Removing more documents from his briefcase, Paul held these up and explained, "This is a contract transferring the fifty percent share of Cascade Carpet Mill from the trust of Megan and Annie Bethel to Charles Bethel without further consideration. Mr. Bethel, if you agree to our proposal, you will be the sole owner of your family's business once again."

Adam Wyatt interrupted, "Will the judge go for this? The divorce decree was pretty specific on the support expectation for Mr. Bethel as the father of the two children."

Paul couldn't hide his smirk when he said, "I can assure you, Adam, that if Mr. Bethel agrees to our proposal, the court will have no issues approving everything I have outlined here."

Ariel spoke again, her suspicion still unrestrained and now tinged with sarcasm, "What do you expect from my client in exchange for this largess? And, for the record, I do not believe that our chances at an appeal of the custody ruling are as dismal as you have stated. There is more than the financial viability of one party over the other for the court to consider."

Paul placed a hand on Lindsey's arm to keep her from rising from her chair. He knew that her agreement to let him negotiate this proposed settlement with Charles Bethel hung by a thread. It had been her stated desire to let the appeal proceed, and regardless of what got disclosed to Bethel and his lawyers about her fortune, Lindsey wanted to see him humiliated and ruined, in court and out.

Turning once more to Wyatt, Paul implored, "Please talk some sense into your associate and her client before this entire firm is made a laughing stock. As a chief judge familiar with any other judge that might hear an appeal if it were even granted, I can assure you that your client simply cannot prevail against Miss Norris in this matter, financial viability aside. She holds too many aces against your one joker. You see that, don't you?"

Wyatt turned his gaze from Paul to where Brenner and Bethel sat. Keeping his gaze on them, he said, "Let's hear their proposal before discounting it out of hand."

Returning his gaze to Paul, he asked, "Are you ready to share your proposal now?"

Without answering, Paul removed a new set of documents from his briefcase and set them in front of Lindsey. They had agreed that she would make the proposal personally.

She glared at Chet and began, "We demonstrated in court that you have been an absentee father to Emily's daughters...

"You keep calling them 'Emily's daughters'," Bethel protested. "They're my fucking daughters too!"

Lindsey ignored him, "We proved that you have been an absentee father to Emily's daughters. You don't know them and they don't know you. They are merely a burden that you will reluctantly accept in order to gain control of their shares of your company, to not pay any more mortgage payments on their home, and to not have to pay support for them any longer. I am going to offer you what you want so badly without the burden of Emily's daughters as part of the package. Interested?"

Bethel huffed, "How in the hell do you expect to do that? You can't take back my fucking sperm. They will always be fruit of my loins."

Lindsey stifled the urge to jump across the table and pummel the bastard. Paul sensed her growing rage and tried to calm things down, "Biologically, yes. Legally, not necessarily."

Brenner exclaimed, "You expect my client to voluntarily relinquish his parental rights? That's absurd!"

"Is it?" Paul countered. "He has shown no interest in his daughters by Emily Bethel and continues to do likewise with his children from what, two or possibly three other women? Counselor, ask your client if he would be willing to get out of paying any further support, including the mortgage on a destroyed house, as well as getting the shares of his company granted to Emily's daughters in their divorce. All he has to do is sign this document relinquishing his parental rights, and he will receive all that he wants with no further parental strings attached. Why don't you ask him?"

"She doesn't have to ask me," Bethel interceded. "If the agreement is that me giving up my parental rights to those brats gets me out of paying any more for them and getting their shares of my company back, just show me where to sign."

"Mr. Bethel," Ariel protested, "We can win this. You don't have to give up your rights as their father to get custody, and thus control of their shares. You can get everything that is being offered and still have your daughters."

Bethel shook his head, and said, "But your scenario still saddles me with the brats. Why would I choose that when I can get the benefits of having custody without the burden of the kids? I never wanted them in the first place, and I sure as hell don't want them now. They were a means to an end that I don't have to accept if this offer is legit. That's all I need you to tell me."

"Paul," Wyatt softly said. "Could you and Miss Norris give us a moment alone with Mr. Bethel to review your proposal?

Without answering, Paul and Lindsey picked up their belongings and left the conference room. There was no one outside to escort them, but Paul recalled the layout of the office well enough to direct them back to the lobby.

Finding a quiet corner away from the receptionist counter, Paul put his arm around Lindsey's shoulder and asked, "Are you ready for their counter proposal?"

Lindsey patted her purse and said, "Oh yeah. Any wagers on how much he will ask for?"

Shrugging, Paul replied, "Knowing Adam Wyatt, I would be surprised if he didn't advise Bethel to seek anything less than five million from you."

Lindsey was shaking her head in disbelief. She and Paul hadn't been deceptive or misleading. The NDA had been openly presented to Bethel and his attorneys, and no one had forced them to sign it before carefully reviewing it. The insurance settlement was on the up-and-up, and the rest of their offer was essentially simple modifications to the divorce decree between Bethel and Emily. There had been no coercion, fraud, or entrapment on their part, yet it appeared certain now that Bethel had fallen into their trap regardless.

The announcement for the receptionist that they were wanted back in the conference room indicated to Lindsey and Paul that they wouldn't have to wait much longer to find out. Lindsey verified that the recording device in her purse was active before following Paul into the room and back to their previous seats.

Ariel Brenner allowed them to barely get settled in their chairs before proclaiming, "We have reviewed your proposal with our client and he is prepared to accept it with a slight amendment to the considerations being offered."

"Which is?" Paul asked.

Bethel had a cat-ate-the-canary expression on his face as his attorney replied, "My client expects to be compensated the sum of five million dollars each for relinquishing his parental rights to his daughters to Lindsey Norris."

Paul feigned surprise when he asked, "May I ask how your client arrived at the amount for this compensation?"

Bethel spoke before his attorney had a chance to reply, "That is what I estimate each of the brats to have in the trust that their mother left them. When I am granted custody of them, I will have access to those funds. Agreeing to your proposal as it exists denies me that money. I expect to be compensated accordingly. Your client can afford it."

She couldn't hide the grin on her face as Lindsey asked Bethel, "I want to make certain that I understand. In addition to ridding you of the burden of paying on the house, providing financially for their support, and granting you their shares of your company, you want me to buy Emily's daughters from you? You will sell me Megan and Annie for five million dollars each?"

Paul turned to Wyatt and asked, "You and Miss Brenner have discussed this with your client and agree to his amendment to our offer?"

Wyatt nodded, but Brenner verbally replied, "We agree that the compensation requested is equitable based upon the verified value of the trust. It makes our client whole with regard to the funds in the trust that he will relinquish along with his parental rights under your proposal."

"That is your position as well, Adam?" Paul wanted a verbal response from both attorneys.

Wyatt proudly stated, "I agree that it is a fair and equitable consideration for what you are seeking from our client."

Paul opened his briefcase as he said, "Very well. My client hereby rescinds her offer to Mr. Bethel."

Sliding an envelope across the table so forcefully that it struck Chet Bethel on his chest before falling into his lap, Paul continued, "Charles Bethel, you have been served. You are hereby given notice that you're ordered to appear before Judge Aaliyah Roane tomorrow at 10 a.m. for a termination of parental rights hearing in the matter of Megan Bethel and Annie Bethel. I suggest that you find alternate legal representation since as soon as I leave here, I will be reporting these two shysters to the state Bar for conspiracy to pimp and pander persons under the age of 18."

A bright red Ariel Brenner looked to her boss before protesting, "You have no basis to seek a TPR!"

"Seriously?" Paul asked. "You don't think that having a recording of your client offering to sell two young girls for five million dollars apiece won't be viewed as a basis for terminating his parental rights?"

"Uh, Paul," muttered Wyatt. "The NDA would make any such recoding inadmissible. We all agreed that anything said in this meeting was confidential and not to be disclosed."

Lindsey giggled but let Paul do the explaining, "Adam, I don't know whether it was your trust in me or the fact that you are getting lackadaisical in the practice of law. If either you or your associate would have read the NDA before signing it, you would see that it prohibits you, her, and your client from disclosing any details of this meeting. Miss Norris and I have no such restriction documented in it."

As Wyatt and Brenner both frantically started reviewing the NDA, Paul closed his briefcase and rose from his seat, followed by Lindsey.

His parting words to Chet were, "Mr. Bethel, we'll see you in court tomorrow morning."

~~~

"Do you mind if we make a quick stop on the way?" Paul casually asked.

Lindsey fastened her seatbelt before responding, "What did you have in mind?"

Paul waited until he had pulled out of the parking space before answering, "I need your help picking something out. It shouldn't take long. You can trust me."

"What's not to trust?" Lindsey thought to herself. Paul had demonstrated that he could be trusted from their very first meeting twenty-three years ago, and it continued through today. When he had described his plan to establish grounds for the court to legally terminate Chet Bethel's parental rights without his consent, Lindsey trusted that he would make it happen. She had initially questioned how he would make it work, but she never doubted that Paul would do it.

Watching how Paul had leveraged the respect that his former associates had for him to present the non-disclosure agreement and get it signed by everyone without a proper review was impressive. Seeing how his assessment of Chet Bethel's greed would manifest itself and unfold as if written down in a script was nothing short of omniscient.

Listening to Paul whistle along with the country song on the radio, Lindsey felt as carefree as she had in months. She no longer needed to exercise exclusive control over her life, because it was no longer exclusively her life. It was a life shared with Paul. They would control it together.

Thinking back to their meeting, Lindsey asked, "Are you really going to report his attorneys?"

"You're damn straight, I am," Paul insisted. "Even if I wasn't an officer of the court and a mandatory reporter, what they did by advising Bethel to request money in exchange for his parental rights is tantamount to them endorsing human trafficking. We already know that Bethel has no morals where the girls are concerned. I hate to think what he would have really sold them for if he ever needed to raise money for anything. Wyatt and Brenner agreeing with him can't go unaddressed."

Lindsey shuddered at the thought of Chet actually selling Emily's daughters, while knowing in her heart that this was exactly the risk that allowing him custody of them would have raised. She was grateful that Paul had recognized this and used Chet's greed to have him admit a willingness to trade his daughters for personal financial gain.

The audio recording of him doing so signaled the death knell to any hopes Chet ever had of getting custody granted to him, and made it almost impossible for him to counter the motion terminating his parental rights permanently and forever. Lindsey was looking forward to telling Megan and Annie that Chet was no longer their legal father, but that would have to wait until after the hearing tomorrow.

Paul turning into the mall parking lot brought Lindsey back to the present. She instinctively knew his destination and understood his mission. Waiting for him to find a parking space, Lindsey finally said, "Paul, I think that we need to have a talk."

Putting the truck into park, Paul asked, "About what?"

Lindsey unbuckled her seatbelt so that she could turn on the seat to face Paul before she replied, "About why you brought us here. We need to discuss this."

Unbuckling his own seatbelt, Paul nonchalantly replied, "Okay, go ahead."

Irritated, Lindsey snapped, "So this is all on me? You bring me to the mall to help you pick out an engagement ring for me, and you have nothing that you want to discuss about your plans? What makes you think that I would even want an engagement ring?"

Paul smiled and said, "I don't think that you want an engagement ring. In fact, I would be surprised if you did. You never wear any jewelry other than studs of one type or another in your ears on occasion. That being said, I do know that you will want a wedding ring, and if yours and mine were a matched set, I think that would be nice. If you don't agree, I'm fine with whatever you choose."

Sighing, Lindsey said, "Yes, I would want a wedding ring, and yes, I would want yours to match mine. My point is that we haven't discussed the whole us getting married thing yet. I don't need or want some hearts and flowers proposal or anything like that, but it would be nice if we kinda decided on things together."

"Lin, the only thing that has been decided without our discussing it is my idea to stop to look at rings on our way back. If you don't agree that this is more convenient than us making a special trip to do it some other time, I can accept that. I know that I'm not assuming anything when I acknowledge that we're going to need wedding rings at some point. Am I?"

Grabbing Paul's hand, Lindsey said, "No, of course not. I've known since the night of the reunion that you and I are destined to be married. And, yes, I do agree that stopping on the way back to Spring Place makes more sense than us making a special trip to pick out rings. However, I can't help suspecting that convenience was not your only motivation for this stop."

Kissing the hand that was holding his, Paul said, "Let's go pick out the rings and then I'll explain my other ideas while we drive home."

~~~

"We finally got ahold of the property manager for the apartments where Powell lives," Cassidy stated as he walked unannounced into Director Dutton's office.

"And?" was Dutton's impatient reply.

Cassidy read from his notes, "He claims that no one has requested access to Powell's apartment when Powell wasn't home. However, he also insists that he provided two keys to Powell when he got possession of the unit. Remember that Powell told us he had the only key other than what the property manager had."

Dutton took a minute to recall the interview with Ryan Powell before agreeing, "Yeah, I remember that. So, who did he give the other key to?"

"I'm heading up to Gilmore County in a few minutes to ask that very question," Cassidy confirmed.

Dutton nodded his approval and asked, "What's the latest on that woman linked to a suspect vehicle?"

"Michaela Meyers," Cassidy replied, knowing who his boss was referring to. "So far, nothing. No record with the DMV, in Georgia or Ontario. The Mounties are checking their records for us to see if her name pops up in any investigations or anything, but I don't expect to hear from them for another day or two."

Dutton frowned. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police were a well-respected and professional law enforcement organization, but they had a tendency to back-burner requests for assistance from American agencies unless they saw a compelling need of their own to do otherwise. Since the GBI could not point to any specific criminal activity being committed by this Meyers woman in Canada, the GBI would have to be patient with their Canadian counterparts.

Leaning back in his chair, Dutton almost growled, "It pissed me off that we had to learn about this Meyers woman from Lindsey Norris. McConnell and Ramsey made us all look like bumbling idiots by being trumped in their investigation by a civilian. Has anyone followed up with either the tire store in Canada or the paint dealer in Clayton to see if there are any videos of Michaela Meyers from when she was doing business with them?"

Cassidy didn't want to present excuses to his boss, but there was no way to sugarcoat the reality, "The transactions were both over a year ago. The recording loop on the video systems that both businesses used only last for 90 days. We had hoped to get a composite drawing, but no one currently working at the paint store dealt with her, and I wanted to wait to see what the Mounties came back with before asking them to have someone interview the employees at the tire store."

Dutton didn't have to like it, but he did understand the constraints that his investigators were operating under. He suggested, "Why don't you talk to as many of the tire store employees as you can over the phone. Maybe we can identify any that we could then request our Canadian allies to interview in person."

~~~

Cecil Firth didn't need to interview anyone. He just needed to analyze the data that his keyword queries presented from each of the targeted databases.

Where the name, "Michaela Meyers" was concerned, Cecil had been surprised by how expansive his database searches had become before he finally got anything back. She had existed at one time in several government and utility company databases in Canada, but the records were inactive and more than a year old. She did not exist in any state government, utility, or credit reporting databases in America.

The hit that turned the tide for Cecil had come from an unlikely source, the Israeli Defense Force personnel database. Identifying her there allowed him to target other Israeli databases to track Meyers as she traveled to Canada five years ago. There was no record of her ever departing or applying for citizenship in America's neighbor to the north.

She had visited Canada, apparently living there for a couple of years as a visitor. There was no record of her having been employed or attending any schools while she was there. Within the last two years, she had somehow migrated to the United States, where her trail almost ran cold.

Cecil knew that Meyers had ordered and taken delivery of the blue Honda paint, but there was no record of any paint shop in the same general area using that paint. This indicated that either Meyers applied the paint herself, or had it done professionally by someone off the record.

In researching local body shops and other facilities in North Georgia that could have done the paint job, Cecil had come across several that were advertising "wraps" for vehicles versus painting them. Curiosity about the wrap process unrelated to his basic search gave Cecil an idea that turned out to be the game-changer.

He learned that reputable paint and body shops that installed wraps documented the paint condition on the vehicles beforehand. The color of the paint is noted, along with any scratches, blemishes, or faded areas that the owner might attempt to claim were damaged when the wrap was eventually removed.

Using the color code information for the blue Honda paint, he was able to locate a shop that had installed a wrap on a 2005 Dodge Power Wagon last month that was painted Honda Aegean Blue metallic. The only problem was that the customer's name wasn't Michaela Meyers.

Chapter Seventeen

"Paul, quick, get into the right lane!" Lindsey screamed.

Instinctively, Paul began merging across three lanes of traffic on Interstate 75 to get into the rightmost lane. He asked, "What's up?"

They had been discussing Paul's ideas, laughing and teasing one another about whether his sisters would be more excited than Megan and Annie would be to learn that a wedding was in the near future. When Lindsey's cell phone indicated an incoming message, she turned her attention to reading it. Its contents had been what she had reacted to by directing Paul to move to the right lane.

"We need to jump onto 575," Lindsey instructed while pointing to the sign indicating the approaching interchange. "We need to go to Ellijay, and I mean go there right now!"

Paul moved over to the expanded right lane, which would take them onto the Interstate 575 ramp. He wanted to question Lindsey further but saw that she had already begun dialing a number on her phone.

"Karly? This is Lindsey. Listen, something has come up, so Paul and I have to make an unexpected stop on the way back from Atlanta."

Hearing only one side of the conversation, Paul understood that Lindsey was asking his sister to go pick up Megan and Annie from the cabin and to bring them to her house until he and Lindsey could pick them up from there. Checking the time, he saw that the girls couldn't have been home from school for very long.

Neither he nor Lindsey had any concerns about leaving the girls alone at the cabin for a few hours after they had gotten home from school. They had done so a few times, knowing that the girls were responsible enough to get started on any homework on their own, and that their security detail was out front to protect them if necessary.

Lindsey's request for Karly to pick up the girls indicated to Paul that she anticipated it taking more than just a few hours for whatever it was in Ellijay that motivated her to redirect them there. He waited patiently for her to explain. He didn't expect the explanation to come with Lindsey's next phone call.

"Director Dutton, this is Lindsey Norris."

Lindsey had apparently wanted to share both sides of this conversation with Paul because it became obvious that she had activated the speaker on her phone when he heard Chris Dutton's voice, "What can I do for you, Miss Norris?"

"Judge Eddy and I are on Interstate 575, on our way to Ellijay. I wanted to let you know that we have a lead on the woman named Michaela Meyers and are heading to the address I have been provided for her."

"Whoa, hold on," Dutton stammered. "I'm not going to ask how you got an address for her, but you and the judge can't just roll up to her and start asking questions. You could compromise the entire investigation..."

Lindsey lied when she interrupted, "We have no intention of questioning her. We are simply going to verify if the address provided for her is still active, see what she looks like, and maybe try to locate a likely vehicle that might have collided with Emily's."

"Christ!" Dutton exclaimed. "Hold on a second."

Dutton must have used another phone because they could hear only his side of the conversation, apparently with Agent Cassidy. It was short, and when Dutton returned to his conversation with Lindsey, his frustration had ebbed slightly.

"Miss Norris, Agent Cassidy is about twelve miles south of Ellijay right now. He is on his way there to interview Ryan Powell again about who had access to his apartment. I instructed him to wait for you at the riverside park in downtown Ellijay so that you and the judge could listen in on that interview. Agent Cassidy will then accompany you both to the address you have for this Meyers woman. Will you work with me on this?"

Paul asked, "Michaela Meyers is the name of the person who bought tires that match the tread marks left at the scene of the crime?"

"Her name also came up as someone who bought the same color paint as the traces on Emily's car left by the vehicle that likely pushed her off the road," Lindsey confirmed.

"But you haven't found any vehicle registered under her name?" Paul asked dubiously. "That seems strange."

Lindsey said dismissively, "The vehicle could still be registered in Canada, where the tires were purchased."

"No," Dutton said. "We checked. No vehicle is registered in any Canadian province under her name."

They all heard the notification from Lindsey's phone. She checked it and then announced, "Director, I'll need to call you back."

She disconnected without waiting for a reply and immediately opened and began reading the e-mail from Cecil. It was the full report that he had hastily compiled from his research on Michaela Meyers. Skipping over the details on her birth initially, Lindsey stopped and went back to review them more carefully.

"She was born in Israel," Lindsey told Paul. "Michaela Meyers was born in 1990 near the port city of Haifa. That might explain why the GBI hasn't been able to find much on her yet."

"How did she end up near here?" Paul asked.

Raising a finger as a signal for him to be patient, Lindsey replied, "Hang on and let me read some more of this."

After a few seconds, Lindsey continued to report what she had read, "Wow! Her mom was killed in 2002 when some Arab terrorists blew up a restaurant in Haifa, and her father was killed a year later when the bus he was riding on was also attacked by Arab terrorists. She was an orphan at thirteen."

"That had to have been tough," Paul conceded. "What else?"

Lindsey read on, "She joined the Israeli Defense Force when she was eighteen... Do you know what the 'Oketz' is?"

Shaking his head, Paul asked, "No, what is it?"

"Let me look it up," Lindsey said in frustration.

She switched to a search application and was soon relating what she had found, "Crap. Now I need to find out what a 'sayeret' is. Hold on."

It only took her a second or two more to find her answer, "Christ! The Oketz is one of the special forces, or sayerets, within the Israeli Defense Forces. It is the special canine special forces unit. She must have been one of the handlers or trainers."

"That still doesn't tell us how she got here, to the U.S.," Paul lamented.

"Hang on, I'm getting there," Lindsey implored.

Reading further, Lindsey paused to ask, "Malinois? Aren't those the same as the Belgian Shepherd?"

"Hell if I know," Paul said. "But isn't the Malinois a popular breed of police dog?"

Lindsey was already researching her question, "Yes, the breed is popular for police and military use because the dogs are large enough to attack a grown man yet small enough to be picked up and carried by their handler. It looks like she became a breeder of Malinois when she left the Israeli Defense Force in 2016, but there is no information on when she might have traveled to Canada. We know that she was in the Toronto area two years ago when she bought the tires, but we don't know when she left Israel."

"Her having been in the Israeli Defense Force could explain a lot," Paul surmised. "The Israelis are supposed to be extremely secretive about who their members are to prevent attacks against them or their families by terrorists once they leave the service. I would imagine that the identity of someone who had been in their special forces would be especially well protected."

Only half listening to Paul as she continued to read, Lindsey nearly missed the connection that Cecil had eventually arrived at where Michaela Meyers and the murder of Emily were concerned.

"Uh, Paul, the puzzle is coming together," Lindsey said. "The largest breeder of Malinois on the east coast is Blueridge Kennels, owned by Ryan and Michelle Powell. Michaela Meyers and Michelle Powell appear to be the same person."

~~~

"What are they doing here?" an irritated Ryan Powell asked. His assistant had only mentioned that a GBI agent wanted to see him. She hadn't mentioned anything about the two people accompanying the agent.

Cassidy closed Powell's office door before replying, "Miss Norris, being the person most familiar with the victim, Emily Bethel, has agreed to consult with us on the investigation. Judge Eddy is acting as a legal advisor to the investigation. Why? Do you have a problem answering a few questions with either of them present?"

"I just don't want to be bombarded with questions from multiple people," Powell explained.

Nodding, Cassidy said, "I understand perfectly. How about if I ask you a few questions while the Judge and Miss Norris simply listen in? Would that be okay?"

The three took Powell asking them to all take seats as his affirmation.

Cassidy started with, "I met with Stuart Davis earlier today. Do you recognize that name?"

"He manages the apartment complex where I am currently living," Powell confirmed. "So, yeah, I recognize the name."

"We were interested in determining who else might have accessed your apartment on the afternoon of October 11^th," Cassidy said matter-of-factly. "Remember, that's the day that you claim that someone other than you sent a text message to Emily Bethel from your cell phone. Mr. Davis assured me that since that date was a Sunday, he would not have been present at the complex to let someone into your apartment. He then insisted that it must have been either you, or whoever had the second key that he had provided to you when you rented the place."

Powell looked confused for a second before answering, "You know, now that you mention it, I think there were two keys on the ring when he gave it to me. I only remember the one that I transferred to my main keyring when I moved into the apartment."

"So," Cassidy pried, "If you now remember there being two keys, but you only transferred one of them to your main keyring, where is the other key?"

Pursing his lips while considering the question, Powell appeared contemplative for several seconds before replying, "I don't know. I remember him handing me the keys when I signed the lease. I then drove to my house, I mean the house where I lived with my wife, to start moving my things to the apartment..."

"Was your wife home at that time?" Cassidy asked.

Shaking his head, Powell answered, "Not when I first got there. Shelly came home before I finished and started yelling, so I grabbed just a few more things and left. Wait a second! I remember getting as far as the road when I realized that I had left the apartment keys on the dresser in our bedroom and had to go back and get them. Shelly had gone out to the kennels, so I just grabbed the keyring and hurried back to my car."

Cassidy leaned forward and asked, "Were both keys still on the keyring at that time?"

"I honestly can't say that I remember," Powell admitted. "I do know that the next morning, before leaving for a dog show, I took the one key that was on the ring and moved it to the keyring that had all my other keys on it. You know, for my car, this office..."

Lindsey was getting impatient. She realized that establishing who had access to Powell's apartment, where the cell phone that had sent the last text message to Emily was a crucial element in the investigation, but this felt like a weak approach to learning that fact and a lot more. Why was Cassidy pussy-footing around?

Her continence must have been obvious to Cassidy, since his next question went more to the heart of the issue, "Mr. Powell, do you think it is possible that your wife took the second key off of the ring while it was on the top of the dresser where you had left it unattended?"

Frowning, Powell said, "As mad as she was that I was moving out, I wouldn't have been surprised if she had taken both keys to the apartment and hid them from me just to make her point. I suppose that she could have taken just the one, but I don't know why she would have. I had made it clear to her that she wouldn't be welcome at the apartment and all of our future meetings would be at some neutral location, such as at our therapist's office."

"How long have you two been married?" Cassidy asked.

The details in Cecil's report told Lindsey that the Powells had been married just under two years, but she waited for him to confirm that information for Cassidy, which he did.

Afraid that Cassidy was going to delve into questions such as "Where did you meet your wife?" or "What are the current problems with your marriage?" Lindsey was pleased when his next question was more to the point, "Do you recognize the name, Michaela Meyers?"

Powell's reaction was instantaneous and telling. Sitting bolt upright in his chair and turning paler, he replied, "I am not at liberty to say?"

Paul couldn't resist laughing. He had heard all manner of bonehead responses to questions from people testifying in court, but Powell's response ranked up there with the worst of these. How could he know that he wasn't at liberty to say that he recognized a name if he didn't first recognize the name?

Cassidy sighed and said, "I'll take that as a 'yes'. Mr. Powell, do you know where Michaela Meyers is right now?"

Powell sat stone-faced and didn't answer. Cassidy asked, "Do you know where your wife is right now?"

When Powell again refused to answer, Cassidy stood and said, "Ryan Powell, I am now notifying you that you are a suspect in the murder of Emily Bethel. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything that you say could be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney..."

Lindsey and Paul listened as Powell's rights were recited. When Cassidy removed his handcuffs from the holder on his belt, they stood and watched as the handcuffs were placed on Powell. Once they were in place, Cassidy placed a call on his cell phone to arrange for transportation of his prisoner.

As Cassidy ended his call, Powell finally said, "Shelly should be either at the house or back in the kennels. Those are where I told the process server delivering the divorce petition to look for her when he arrives this afternoon."

"We'll wait for you outside," Paul told Cassidy, taking Lindsey's elbow to lead her out of Powell's office.

Once in the parking lot, Lindsey asked, "Do we have to wait, or can we go check out the address that we have for the house where Michaela Meyers is supposed to live?"

"We can't go there now," Paul announced. "There is no doubt that the GBI will be seeking a search warrant for the address before heading there to interview Michelle Powell, or Michaela Meyers if that is who she actually is. I'm betting that Cassidy took Powell into custody for the sole purpose of preventing him from giving his wife a heads-up. We can't go there before the GBI, or we'll be doing the same thing."

Paul opened the car door and held it for Lindsey, but she remained standing silently beside the car, searching for something on her cell phone.

He asked, "Can't you search for what you are looking for while we are driving?"

Lindsey snapped, "It's a little difficult to arrange for an Uber or Lyft if I am traveling at the time. You go ahead and I'll wait here for my ride."

Closing the passenger side door, Paul sighed, "You aren't coming with me?"

"We obviously have different destinations," Lindsey exclaimed in frustration. "I am not going home until I know one way or another if Michelle Powell caused Emily's death. I have her address, so that is where I am going next, with or without you."

Placing his hand over the screen of Lindsey's cell phone to get her attention diverted to him rather than her search, Paul said, "What good does knowing she is responsible do for you if the case against her gets compromised by you visiting her before law enforcement, or tipping her off to their impending arrival and giving her a chance to get away? How would justice for Emily be served by that?"

Lindsey scowled up angrily at Paul and said, "Quit treating me like some damn idiot! I can determine for myself if she was responsible without divulging anything about the investigation or that she is even suspected. Hell, if I can get a look to see if there is a vehicle on her property that matches what we know about the one that pushed Emily off the road, that in itself will tell us if she was involved. I don't have to question her, and I may not even have to see her."

Paul countered, "If you don't want to be treated like an idiot, then quit acting like an impetuous fool. Your two encounters with this woman have raised her ire simply by your presence, and those were both in public places. How do you think she will react to you showing up at her house, especially if what Powell said was true and she is being served with a divorce petition this afternoon? There is no way that she will be welcoming to you. Unless she has parked the suspect vehicle where it is visible from the road or where it can be seen from somewhere else off of her property, you will learn nothing by simply going there to 'check things out'."

Stepping forward, Lindsey dropped her hands to her sides and rested her head against Paul's chest, thinking, "Damn! Why did he have to be right?"

There was no way that she would be able to meet peacefully with Michelle Powell. No ruse that she could use to explain why she was at the Blueridge Kennels that the woman would believe. Control at this point was beyond Lindsey's reach.

She muttered, "Can we at least drive by her place?"

Paul was conciliatory, "Pull it up on your map app and let's see what our options might be to drive by and reconnoiter the place without drawing attention to ourselves."

Lindsey started navigating before Paul had backed out of their parking space, "At the traffic circle, take the leg that leads to Old Highway 5. We'll take that north out of town a few miles."

These directions didn't surprise Paul. He assumed when told that Michaela Meyers ran a breeding kennel with an Ellijay mailing address, that the location wasn't actually within the town itself. Cities and towns typically had more restrictive ordinances and zoning laws that regulated animals within their jurisdictions. Counties beyond city or town limits seldom regulated things like kennels, farms, and other enterprises involving animals.

"I love you, Paul," Lindsey said, almost in a whisper. "But I'm afraid it's always going to be hard for me."

Taking her left hand into his right, Paul said, "And it will always be my job to make it as easy as possible for you; to keep your trust and always be open to sharing anything with you."

"You protect me from myself," Lindsey admitted. "I think that's what I will have the hardest time accepting, and it has nothing to do with trusting you. I need to trust myself in trusting you. Do you know what I mean? Turn left on Harper Road. It will parallel the highway for half a mile or so."

Paul made the requested maneuver before replying, "We've both been solitary animals for the majority of our adult lives. Now, we're becoming a family, essentially a pack, and we'll all need to adjust, even the girls. They've accepted me in their lives, but I can tell that living with a man around, especially in an authority role, will be an adjustment for them at times."

"My god!" Lindsey said in exasperation. "What sane man would want to willingly step into what you are? You're jumping right from carefree bachelor to domesticated husband and father in one fell swoop."

Squeezing her hand, Paul stated, "It's the most natural thing I have ever done. It feels so right that it seems as if it is the destiny that I have always been waiting for but didn't realize it. I really did mean it when I told you that you were the best break this old heart ever had. Getting you and the girls in a package deal just makes that break even better."

Lindsey had tears in her eyes from Paul's words. She realized that the way that he had described their meeting all those years ago as a good break for his heart applied to her as well. Her love for him now proved it; Paul was certainly the best break that her heart had ever had. She wiped her eyes just in time to see the next turn that she had to tell Paul about.

"Turn left up ahead on Corbett Drive. The entrance to the kennel should be on the right in about one hundred yards. Corbet Drive is a dead end, but it looks like there is a place for us to turn around. We should be able to get a view of the property coming and going."

Making the turn onto Corbett Drive, Paul commented, "It looks like mostly agricultural properties and such without a lot of trees. That will work in our favor when we drive past the kennel. Nothing to obstruct our views."

It turned out that all they needed was to glance up the driveway to the house as they passed by. The driveway led to a garage beside a house only thirty yards from the road. Parked outside the garage was a camouflaged Dodge Ram 2500 with a similarly camouflaged shell cover on the back.

"That looks like one of the trucks that was parked at the diner," Lindsey observed as Paul continued driving up the road. "Go ahead and turn around at the end of the road. Do you think it would be safe for us to stop on the road when we head back so that I can try to get a picture of the truck?"

Paul was glad that seeing the truck at the address identified as belonging to Michaela Meyers seemed to appease Lindsey's desire to establish Michelle Powell as the prime suspect in Emily Bethel's death. He said, "The house looks pretty quiet, and unless someone is standing at a window or someplace watching vehicles pass on the road, a quick stop for you to get a picture shouldn't draw any attention. It would be helpful to let Agent Cassidy know that his suspect appears to be at home before he makes the trip to serve his warrant."

Lindsey got her cell phone ready to take a picture as Paul turned his truck around at the end of Corbett Drive and started them heading back towards the kennel. She asked, "How long do you think a warrant will take? I don't assume that you could have signed off on one or you would probably have offered to do so when we were with him."

Paul slowed as he once more approached the driveway to the kennel. He stopped at a spot that, if Lindsey quickly stepped out of the truck and moved to the front of it, she would be positioned to take a picture that would clearly show the truck parked in front of the garage. He wasn't sure how good the camera on her cell phone was, but she might be able to zoom in enough to get a clear picture of the license plate.

Answering her question as he stopped his truck, Paul said, "The GBI should be able to get a warrant issued within an hour of presenting it to a judge at this time of day. Take your picture, and we can discuss it further while we head home. I would like to get there in time for dinner with the girls."

~~~

Cassidy hadn't needed much time at all to get a warrant drawn up and signed. The wording on the search warrant was pretty boilerplate, so all he had to provide his legal team was the information on the tire and paint transactions as further justification for a search. He didn't need a warrant to simply interview a suspect.

As soon as the transport had arrived to take Ryan Powell off his hands, Cassidy had hurried over to the Gilmore County Courthouse, where the warrant had been faxed and was waiting for him. Paul Eddy's counterpart for the Appalachian Circuit Court, part of Georgia's Ninth Judicial District, had signed the warrant without question as soon as he had reviewed it.

What had taken the longest was arranging for a couple of Gilmore County Sheriff deputies to accompany him out to the Powell residence, since they had to be pulled in from patrol in other parts of the county. The late fall sun was lower on the horizon than Cassidy would have preferred when they arrived at the location, but they had a few minutes before dusk became total darkness.

Not anticipating Michelle Powell to be a "runner", Cassidy had both deputies join him on the front porch. When his several knocks on the front door, and repetitive ringing of the doorbell yielded no results, the three men headed around the house to the large barn-like building that the barking sounds from it indicated housed the kennels.

Approaching the back edge of the house, it was the familiar smell that drew their attention. Cassidy paused first to attempt to allow his nose to analyze the acrid bite of ammunition propellant more thoroughly. Basically, to try to determine the direction it was coming from and how recent it was. Sensing the odor was stronger on his right side, Cassidy placed his hand on the butt of his service weapon and turned in that direction.

The back of the Powell house was visible now. The patio had shaded lines on it created by the large cedar pergola that covered it. Standing with the late afternoon sun at their back, the lines of shade on the patio made objects challenging to immediately identify for Cassidy and the deputies.

Eventually, the round dining table and the four chairs around it became obvious. The object against the house at the far end of the patio, just to the left of the open sliding glass door, could be identified as a hot tub. The person sitting with their back against the side of the hot tub closest to the house, looking at them with dead eyes, wasn't as clear.

"Cover me," Cassidy told the deputies as he stepped gingerly onto the cement patio. As the surface of the water in the hot tub became visible, the situation became more evident. He reported, "Call it in as a code four for now. We have a deceased female with a GSW to the head, likely self-inflicted."

Moving closer to examine the body, Cassidy was initially surprised by the lack of blood. There was a small entrance wound slightly behind the woman's right eye, but no other apparent injuries. Glancing down into the water at the naked woman's right hand, the submerged handgun appeared to be a twenty-two-caliber revolver.

The small caliber round explained the lack of an exit wound, and thus the lack of much blood. The autopsy would tell, but Cassidy could envision the damage done to the woman's brain as the small piece of lead bounced around inside her skull rather than exiting.

Glancing once more at the gun in the water, Cassidy hoped that the chlorinated water didn't present any obstacles to the crime scene unit making a definitive call on the gunshot wound being self-inflicted. Residue from the propellant being present on the victim's hand was one of the factors that the medical examiner would definitely consider when ruling whether the death was a suicide or a murder.

On that note, he pulled out his cell phone and made the needed call. Dutton answered on the first ring, "Tell me what you've got."

"I've got a mess," Cassidy replied before explaining the situation to his boss.

"Christ," Dutton said. "I'll get a crime scene unit on a chopper immediately. What other reinforcements do you need?"

Cassidy studied the body in the hot tub before answering, "Try to get the team transporting Powell to turn around and bring him back here so that he can provide a positive identification of the victim. I'll do a preliminary sweep of the house and property and then update you with what other resources we might need. In the meantime, could you get in touch with the Gilmore County Sheriff to clarify their role as being support only at this time?"

Dutton snorted, and said, "Believe me, I'll make it perfectly clear that this is a GBI investigation. Call me if you learn anything that you think I should know or if you need anything from me."

"There's one other thing," Cassidy added. "You might want to update that Norris lady and Judge Eddy. I was actually surprised that they weren't here when I arrived." He briefly explained to Dutton about the interview with Powell that had culminated in Powell being detained and transported to GBI headquarters.

"Could they have gotten there before you?" Dutton asked. "Is there something about their involvement in the investigation that concerns you?"

"No, no," Cassidy insisted. "It's just obvious that Lindsey Norris is extremely interested in the investigation and hasn't been simply sitting and waiting for us to achieve results. I could see her being impatient in wanting to know if this Michelle Powell was a suspect or not. I'm not implying anything more than that."

Dutton considered this answer before saying, "Understood. It's still a bit early in your investigation there. I think I'll at least wait until we have a positive ID on the victim before providing an update to anyone."

"Whatever you think is best," Cassidy agreed. "I'll keep you posted."

Cassidy terminated the call before pulling a pair of latex gloves out of a pocket of his jacket. He addressed the deputies as he slid on the gloves, "I'm not too concerned about locking the place down immediately, so why don't you two go check out the rest of the property while I clear the house. Let's make sure that there isn't anyone else here while we wait for the CSU team and backup. Just look for now and don't touch anything."

The deputies didn't verbally respond, but simply walked off in different directions. Cassidy moved over to the sliding glass door, where he found it partially open.

Gently sliding the door open enough to move inside the house, Cassidy carefully stepped over the discarded articles of clothing just inside the door. It appeared obvious that the woman in the hot tub had undressed at this spot before heading out onto the patio.

The fact that the clothes all lay on the tile floor rather than on one of the chairs or the round breakfast table mere feet from the door implied that the woman's actions had been purposeful and a sign of resignation to a fate that she had chosen for herself.

There was a manila envelope on the table with the edges of a few pages poking out of the top. The envelope was face down on the table, so it wasn't obvious who it might be addressed to or what its contents were, but the words written in heavy black marker, across the seam on the back of the envelope, indicated how poorly it had been received, "FUCK YOU!" followed underneath in a feminine cursive writing, "Love always, Shelly."

Chapter Eighteen

"Have I mentioned how much I love waking up next to you?"

Lindsey purred and pressed back against Paul's body spooned behind her, "Have I mentioned how much I love waking up to you making love to me? Being filled with your love to start the day is wonderful."

Kissing the back of Lindsey's neck, Paul said, "Starting any day with you is wonderful. And, on that note, I think that we should get our day started before Megan and Annie get the idea that you and I like each other or something."

Rolling over to kiss him, Lindsey ran her fingers through Paul's mussed-up hair and smiled her reply, "Be nice. You know that they both already consider you the father figure that they've never had. I honestly believe that having them experience you and me reconnecting right along with us has done so much to help them deal with the death of their mother. With you and I being together, they feel more secure in their future than if they had to face it with me alone."

Paul swung his feet over the side of the bed, handed Lindsey her bathrobe, and then stood. He said, "I noticed that you didn't mention anything about the TPR hearing this morning to them."

Donning her bathrobe, Lindsey replied, "No, I think that I know what their first question will be and I wanted to discuss things with you before trying to answer it."

Slipping on a pair of gym shorts, Paul said, "They're going to bring up being adopted so that they can get their last name changed. We've discussed that already. The TPR will certainly make that possible, but it would be better if you waited until we got married, and I'll explain why."

"Follow me into the bathroom and you can explain it to me in there," Lindsey said. "I think that we have a few minutes before they get up."

He waited until Lindsey had started the shower and begun to brush her teeth. Leaning against the counter next to her, Paul explained, "It ties into a concern that I know you have related to your wealth and the security of the girls. If you take my last name when we get married, and then we adopt the girls jointly, they too would have the last name of "Eddy' and the name 'Norris' would never be associated with them in any public records."

Lindsey paused her brushing and asked, "Wouldn't it be easy for someone to trace the adoption process through public records by starting with locating a record of our marriage and then following the name changes?"

Shrugging, Paul asked, "What if there is no public record of Lindsey Norris marrying a Paul Eddy? What if you got married using your middle name on the license?"

Lindsey's startled expression almost made Paul laugh. "You can do that?" she asked.

Chuckling, Paul said, "I could, but the intended subterfuge would be more effective if it was you who did that. As long as your middle name is on your birth certificate, I know of a clerk in a small Nevada town who would have no problem using your middle name when issuing us a license. The license being filed in a desolate rural county in Nevada will also make it more challenging for anyone to locate if they were searching for it through online databases."

"But wouldn't the adoption have to take place here in Georgia?" Lindsey asked.

Nodding, Paul said, "Yes, but adoption records are much harder for the average person to access, if they can at all. And even if they did find them, they would only indicate that the adoptive mother matched the name on your wedding license. What is your middle name, by the way?"

Lindsey caught Paul's eyes in the mirror and he could see the playful twinkle there. "Promise that you won't laugh?" she asked.

"Uh oh," Paul teased. "Should I sit down for this revelation?"

Lindsey turned and placed her arms around his neck as she said, "Mr. Paul Eddy, I would like to introduce you to your future wife, Mrs. Paulette Eddy."

Paul untied her bathrobe and pulled it open. His hands went to Lindsey's waist, and he masterfully lifted her to sit on the counter. Using one of his legs to spread hers, Paul moved between them and lightly kissed the tip of her nose as he groaned, "A match made in heaven if there ever was one."

Lindsey warned, "If you get me too warmed up, I won't share my shower with you. I want to enjoy your warm wet body while I have enough composure to do so with our shower remaining rated 'R'. Hurry up and brush your teeth and then join me..."

"What the hell?" Paul said in response to the sound of the doorbell. "Let me check who might be here."

Hurrying to the bedside table where he had left his cell phone, Paul quickly opened the doorbell app on it and studied the person standing on their front porch. "It's Agent Cassidy," he hollered to inform Lindsey.

Retying the robe as she exited the bathroom, Lindsey commented, "We were expecting an update on the search of the Blueridge Kennels, but I thought they would simply call or something. Tell him that we'll be right there."

Paul used the app on his cell phone to communicate with Cassidy, assuring him that he and Lindsey would be there shortly and to please wait for them. He then pulled on a t-shirt and headed to the kitchen to verify that the coffee maker had obeyed its timer and had a full pot of coffee waiting for them.

Hearing Lindsey's footsteps heading for the front door, Paul cut through the dining room to join her just as she opened the door for their guest. She had changed into a satiny exercise outfit and put her hair into a ponytail, but still had bare feet.

"My goodness, Agent Cassidy," Lindsey exclaimed when she saw how Cassidy appeared. "You look exhausted. Please come in. Let me get you a cup of coffee."

Stepping in as Paul and Lindsey moved aside, Cassidy replied, "Thanks, coffee would be great. And yes, it has been a long night, but I wanted to give you both an update and felt that delivering it in person was the most appropriate way under the circumstances. I hope that you don't mind."

Paul offered, "The girls will be up soon and wanting their breakfast, so why don't I handle that while you update Lindsey. Lin, if you'll show Agent Cassidy the way into the living room, I'll bring coffee for you both."

Kissing Paul on his cheek was Lindsey's reply to him. To Cassidy, she said, "This way. Paul has a meeting this morning before court starts, so he needs to get ready to leave earlier than the rest of us. I'll fill him in on what we discussed. Please have a seat."

Cassidy sank wearily onto the couch while Lindsey took a chair across from him. He said, "Let me start by saying that there is absolutely zero doubt that Michaela Meyers, AKA Michelle Powell, was responsible for the death of Emily Bethel, as well as the attack on her house."

"She confessed?" Lindsey asked excitedly.

"No," Cassidy admitted. "It's mostly the physical evidence we have found that establishes her having the means, motive, and opportunity. All in all, it's pretty iron-clad."

Lindsey was confused, "But what did she say? Did she say why she did it or anything?"

Cassidy sighed, "Michaela Meyers took her own life before we had an opportunity to interview her."

Before Lindsey could respond, Paul set a cup of coffee beside her and handed another cup to Cassidy, saying, "Maybe you should explain."

Nodding in appreciation for the coffee, Cassidy took a taste of it before explaining the events of the previous afternoon. He described the discovery of Michaela's body in the hot tub, the divorce petition and note of the breakfast table, and the subsequent search of the property that revealed the damage to the suspected vehicle involved, the AR-15 rifle and ammunition that matched the shell casings from the attack on the house, containers of the same diesel fuel as used in the fire bombs, and even another two boxes of the same storm matches. Two bottles of a local wine were found in the house that resembled the bottles used in the attack.

The spare key to Ryan Powell's apartment was found among the other keys in Michaela's purse, which explained how she had been able to access his apartment to send the text message from her husband's cell phone while he was at the dog show that Sunday afternoon. The search history on her own cell phone held records of her numerous queries into personal details about Emily Bethel, including her home address.

Paul asked impatiently, "That all speaks to her having the means and opportunity, but what about the motive. Without being able to talk to her, have you found out anything as to why she would have targeted Emily, and more importantly, Lindsey and the girls?"

"We don't have that completely nailed down yet," Cassidy admitted. "I spoke with a profiler with the FBI Behavioral Science Unit last night, sharing what we have been able to discern from the actions of Michaela Meyers, as well as what we have learned about her past so far. The FBI people believe that Meyers had diametrically opposed personality traits that actually worked together as the motivation for her targeting Emily Bethel, and then later, Miss Norris."

Lindsey asked, "What sort of traits?"

The sound of Annie and Megan entering the kitchen drew Paul away from the conversation just as Cassidy explained, "Based upon her history with the Israeli Defense Forces, we know that she harbored paranoid tendencies and a strong self-preservation philosophy. This was demonstrated by her trying to disguise her true identity and her involvement with local survivalist groups."

"I would think that the act of suicide would be contrary to someone with those traits," Lindsey surmised.

Cassidy took another drink of his coffee and said, "I thought so too. The profiler then explained how he suspected that Meyers' reactions to the separation between her and her husband, Ryan Powell, were indicative of her having Obsessive-compulsive personality disorder, or O.C.P.D. This likely made her feel hyper-possessive and overly protective of the relationship with her husband. When he pulled away from her during their separation, this manifested the belief that she had to be especially diligent in recognizing and dealing with any threats to that relationship."

Lindsey nodded in understanding, and said, "Whether the threats were real or imagined."

"Exactly," Cassidy agreed. "The FBI profiler expects that when they get Meyer's personnel records from the Israeli government, these will indicate past incidents where she had displayed inappropriately possessive behavior towards others, most likely other male coworkers."

"So, what's next?" Lindsey asked. She heard laughter coming from the kitchen and knew that Paul was keeping the girls joyfully occupied, but she also knew that he had to start getting ready for his day and couldn't delay his shower too much longer. Since she still had to shower as well, joining Paul in his wouldn't be at all disappointing for Lindsey.

Sensing Lindsey's restlessness, Cassidy rose and handed her his nearly empty coffee cup before saying, "Like I said, the physical evidence is rock solid. We will continue digging into whether Ryan Powell played a bigger role in things than he has admitted to so far and leave no stone unturned in trying to identify any other suspects, but my gut tells me that Meyers acted alone and for reasons known fully only to her. If we learn anything new, you'll be the first person I contact."

"Thank you, Agent Cassidy. Let me show you out."

~~~

"I spoke with the senior staff and put the fear of God into them where pursuing and then revealing any private and privileged information about you is concerned," Janice insisted. "They took the threat of Lindsey Norris buying the paper and firing all of them seriously. If the Globe is dropping the story, do you think that the changes you are seeking in the trusts will be necessary?"

Mylene Monroe had joined Lindsey at this meeting in Janice's Dalton office since the termination of parental rights hearing would be held in Whitfield County's courthouse rather than the Murray County Courthouse in Chatsworth. Lindsey had updated both attorneys on the investigation into Emily's murder, followed by her and Paul's additional ideas to shield her from as much public notoriety as possible. Quashing the Boston Globe story was just a piece of their whole plan.

Relieved that the case had apparently been solved, Janice wanted to go over the instructions that Lindsey had sent to her about proposed changes to all of her existing trusts. "And, can you explain the timing to me?" she asked.

Lindsey tried not to sound annoyed when she asked, "Isn't three weeks enough time for you? We're consolidating trusts that are already established and funded. Get that done by December 1^st and the final piece will be just a formality. I should be able to provide you with the names of the trustee and others involved in the trusts by November 30^th. Plug those in and everything should be good to go after that."

She and Paul had a few more details related to their Thanksgiving holiday that needed to be finalized, but the basic plan was that they would fly with the girls to Palm Coast on a private plane early on the morning of November 20^th, where her parents would meet them and take the girls to their house. She and Paul would then use the same plane to fly to Winnemucca, the county seat of Humboldt County, Nevada. Here, they would have a quick private marriage performed by a local judge who had been a former law school classmate of Paul's.

They would return to Florida the next morning to spend the rest of their holiday week entertaining Megan, Annie, and Lindsey's parents at many of the most popular attractions in the area. During the downtimes prior to the Thanksgiving holiday itself, Lindsey would be working with Cecil to facilitate the adjustments to her identity only possible after becoming Paul's wife.

A knock on Janice's office door interrupted the three women. One of the paralegals in Janice's office stuck her head in and asked, "Mrs. Monroe, how many copies of the transcribed recording did you want?"

Mylene asked, "How many pages did it turn out to be?"

"Only three double-spaced pages," the paralegal replied.

"Then let's go with just three copies," Mylene instructed. "If Bethel or his attorneys want more, they can make them from the one copy that I provide them."

Getting the recording of Charles Bethel demanding ten million dollars to relinquish all legal rights to his daughters transcribed into a printed document to present to Judge Roane at this morning's hearing was another reason that they had decided to meet at Janice's offices before heading to the courthouse. They still had the actual recording for the judge to listen to if she wished, but the printed transcript would be needed for the court record. Mylene wanted to be prepared.

After the paralegal had provided the three printed copies of the transcript to Mylene, she placed them into a folder in her briefcase and smiled at her client, "This should be a quick and easy slam dunk. Paul played Bethel and his attorneys perfectly. I have to ask, if Bethel hadn't been so greedy to ask for the ten million in addition to what you had already offered, would you have really gone through with giving him that much?"

Janice interrupted before Lindsey could reply, "That's what I don't get. Your proposal to Charles Bethel could be construed as you offering to buy his daughters from him. How is that different than him trying to sell them to you?"

Lindsey smiled at Janice's question because she had asked the same thing of Paul right before they had met with Bethel and his attorneys. She held up a hand to stop Mylene from answering, and replied to Janice, "As it was explained to me by Paul, I was simply offering Chet modifications to a court-approved settlement. I really wasn't offering anything that he wouldn't eventually get anyway... Well, maybe the shares of the carpet mill, but those hold little value for the girls unless they were to be sold, which it turns out, the trust stipulates that they can't be."

Snickering to herself, Lindsey wished that she could have seen the expression on Chet's face when she had a friendly contact at the Chinese carpet manufacturer send the e-mail to him announcing their intention to buy the fifty percent share in his daughter's trust once they had turned eighteen.

Mylene added, "Paul had everything presented to ensure that there was never any financial value in Lindsey's proposal assigned to the girls themselves, as a pair or individually. When Bethel demanded five million dollars for each of them to relinquish his parental rights, he was effectively offering them for sale at the stated price. That's a huge legal difference."

"Ah," Janice said. "It's reassuring to know that I'm not the only deceptive barrister in these parts. The trick with the NDA is going to become legendary."

Laughing, Mylene said, "I've already added it as an example of legal incompetence that will be shared with all of my future first-year students. Lindsey, do you know if Judge Eddy has reported Wyatt or Brenner to the state Bar yet? It would be nice to know whether we should expect either of them to appear to represent Mr. Bethel in the hearing this morning."

"We didn't get back until late yesterday," Lindsey explained. "So, unless he reported them this morning, I don't think it has been done. I don't think it matters, though. Paul said that he would be surprised if either attorney dared to appear before Judge Roane this morning. Their complicity in Bethel's demand for money in exchange for his parental rights is too evident in the recording."

Janice asked, "Do you think that Bethel will show up, with or without legal representation?"

"With the proof of service of subpoena to Bethel," Mylene said, "Since this is a civil and not a criminal hearing, we will seek the TPR ruling with prejudice whether Bethel and his lawyers are in court this morning or not."

Checking the time, Lindsey picked up her purse in preparation to stand. She had one more item to discuss with Mylene, but this could be done during the short walk from Janice's office to the Whitfield County Courthouse. She and Paul had agreed that scheduling the adoption proceeding near the beginning of December would allow them to give Megan and Annie their new last names as Christmas presents.

What they still needed to discuss was Emily's plan to get the girls a puppy for Christmas.

~~~

Bethel did show up, and he had apparently convinced Ariel Brenner to represent him in the Termination of Parental Rights hearing, although she certainly didn't look happy to be doing so.

The plaintiff in this hearing would not be Lindsey Norris. Mylene had explained that individuals seldom were able to show standing that would justify the court accepting their filing of a motion to terminate another person's parental rights.

For this reason, Paul had personally presented the justifying evidence for the termination of the parental rights of Charles Bethel to an attorney with the state Department of Social Services. It was this agency that had filed the TPR motion with the court, which Paul had then served on Bethel yesterday. It was agreed that the DSS attorney would argue the case, with Mylene acting as co-counsel, if needed.

With the framework for the case essentially handed to him on a silver platter, Glen Arrieta, the DSS attorney, wasted no time in presenting Charles Bethel's history of neglect towards his two daughters. The only testimony that Arrieta sought was from, Chloe Plummer, the DSS caseworker sent to interview Megan and Annie Bethel regarding their relationship with Charles Bethel. Plummer recounted that both girls had been matter-of-factly when describing their father's absence in their lives, with Annie claiming that she hadn't even recognized who he was the one time that she had seen him at the memorial service for her mother.

According to Plummer, Megan had stated that it felt awkward having the last name of someone that they didn't know, and recounted expressing a desire to her mother that she change their last names. Annie shared this sentiment and further expressed her hope that the sisters could be adopted by their legal guardian, Lindsey Norris.

Arrieta then laid out the case for substantial risk of physical neglect and abuse should Charles Bethel be allowed to even spend time alone with his daughters. He closed his case by entering the transcript of the recording where Bethel demanded monetary compensation to relinquish his parental rights to Lindsey Norris. Judge Roane wasn't satisfied with the transcript alone, and ordered that the audio recording be played in open court.

Though she had no questions for Chloe Plummer, when prompted by Judge Roane to hear the defense's side of things, Ariel immediately called Charles Bethel to testify. Bethel was once again dressed impeccably in his tailored suit, perfectly tied necktie, and spit-polished Italian loafers. He still wasn't fooling anyone but himself.

"Mr. Bethel," Ariel began, "I would like to start with the recording that we all just heard. Do you believe that it was a true and accurate depiction of the meeting held between yourself and Miss Norris yesterday?"

Bethel sat up more rigid on his chair, and said, "It most certainly was not. It excludes the prior conversation that we had detailing her offer to me. An offer where she proposed buying my daughters from me. Her recording conveniently excludes that part of our meeting."

Focusing on Lindsey, who was sitting in the first row behind the plaintiff's table, Ariel asked, "Are you telling the court that Miss Norris offered to buy your daughters from you, but her recording only captured your offer to sell them to her?"

Bethel nodded, and said, "That is correct."

Ariel smiled at the judge when she asked Bethel, "Can you describe the offer to buy your daughters that Miss Norris made to you?"

It surprised Lindsey that Chet was able to recite the details of her offer, almost verbatim, from the meeting yesterday. Although, it was very likely that he had been coached extensively by his lawyers since then. It didn't matter because his recollection was going to work against him as soon as either Mylene or Glen Arrieta got their chance to question him.

Bethel was then asked by Ariel about his alleged neglect of his daughters. He was adamant that the actions of his former wife were what kept him out of his daughters' lives, and not any desire of his own. He claimed to love both Teagan and Fannie, which drew snickers from everyone in the courtroom except Ariel Brenner, who turned bright red at the use of the wrong names of Bethel's daughters by their father.

Hoping to stem the bleeding of her case, and praying that Judge Roane hadn't realized the guffaw made by her client, Ariel ended her questioning. The hushed whispering between Mylene and Arrietta ceased only when Judge Roane rapped her gavel to get their attention, and asked, "Does the prosecution have any questions for this witness?"

Rising, Arrieta replied, "Most definitely, Your Honor."

"Then please proceed," the judge instructed.

Striding quickly towards Bethel, with his notepad in hand, Arrieta began speaking before he reached the witness stand, "Mr. Bethel, I was so enthralled by your testimony that I want to ensure I didn't neglect to note any of it. So, please bear with me."

Lindsey saw Ariel Brenner cringe at the tactics of her opponent, but she had no real basis for an objection. Yet.

Arrieta continued, "Mr. Bethel, if I might summarize what I heard you testify: You claim that Miss Norris offered you the insurance settlement for your former wife's house, which would allow you to pay off the mortgage and release you from your obligation on the house for your daughters. Is that correct?"

After glancing briefly at his attorney, Bethel answered, "Yes, that is correct."

"Thank you," Arrieta said as he reviewed his notes once more. He asked, "You also stated that Miss Norris offered to relinquish your daughters' shares in your company to you. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Bethel confirmed, "She offered me both in exchange for me terminating my parental rights."

Arrieta returned his notepad to the plaintiff's table before saying, "I understand. Answer me this, Mr. Bethel, did either of the items offered by Miss Norris present you with any direct monetary benefit for the termination of your parental rights? Weren't these both just adjustments to the terms of your divorce from Emily Bethel, providing you with no monetary gain over what you would have likely received when your daughters turned eighteen? Didn't the offers by Miss Norris simply accelerate the timeline in your favor?"

"I, uh..." Bethel began.

Unrelenting, Arrieta asked, "But since the offer to relinquish the shares in your company didn't include the entire trust, you believed that you were due additional compensation, isn't that right, Mr. Bethel?"

"Objection!" Ariel exclaimed. "The counselor is badgering the witness."

"Sustained," Judge Roane ruled. "Mr. Arrieta, please adjust your style and tone."

"Yes, Your Honor," Arrieta acquiesced. He then asked Bethel, "Did Miss Norris, at any time, offer you money in exchange for you terminating your parental rights to Megan and Annie Bethel?"

Bethel considered the question so long that the judge had to urge him to respond. He meekly replied, "Not in so many words, no."

Arrieta persisted, "Mr. Bethel, in any words, did Miss Norris offer to pay you money in exchange for your parental rights?"

"No, but..."

Interrupting, Arrieta addressed the judge, "Your Honor, let the record show that the witness answered the question in the negative."

"So noted," Judge Roane replied. "Please proceed."

Turning his attention back to Bethel, Arrieta asked, "Mr. Bethel, did you, in your own words, request money from Miss Norris in exchange for your parental rights? Remember the recording that was just played for the court. Wasn't that your voice that we heard?"

Bethel visibly squirmed before answering in a belligerent tone, "Yes, but as I said, that recording was taken out of context. It was only a fragment of the discussion where that Norris bitch and I were negotiating a deal..."

Judge Roane boomed, "Mr. Bethel, I am holding you in contempt of court. Language such as you just used in my courtroom is not deserving of a warning."

Rapping her gavel twice, the judge announced, "I have heard enough. I find that just cause exists to terminate the parental rights of Charles Bethel as they relate to the minor children, Megan Bethel and Annie Bethel. I further issue this ruling with prejudice. Bailiff, take Mr. Bethel into custody. I will have my clerk schedule a hearing on the contempt charge for next week. He is to remain in custody until that hearing. Case..."

Surprising everyone in the court, the Bailiff interrupted Judge Roane, "Your Honor, if I might have a word with you, there is a matter concerning Mr. Bethel that you need to hear about before sentencing him to custody in our county jail."

Overcoming her own surprise, the judge simply said, "You may approach. Counselors, please join us."

A still stunned Charles Bethel remained seated on the witness chair as Ariel Brenner, Glen Arrieta, and Mylene Monroe all passed by him on their way to stand before the judge. They were joined by the court Bailiff, who spoke hurriedly to the judge, "Your Honor, there are two federal agents in the hallway waiting to arrest the witness. I don't know what the charges are, but they informed me that they would be entering the courtroom to take Mr. Bethel into custody as soon as these proceedings were over."

Lindsey couldn't hear the conversation at the judge's bench, but the smile that erupted on Mylene's face indicated to her that the group had just been made aware of the next hiccup in Charles Bethel's life. Emily had been auditing the financial records of Cascade Carpet Mills yearly since her divorce from Chet. She had done so to protect the assets of her daughters, and not intending to discover anything nefarious being done by her ex-husband.

Whether she intended to stumble upon Chet's deceptive accounting practices, related to both, the company, as well as his personal finances didn't matter. What did matter was that Emily had found them, and she had been tracking and documenting them for almost ten years.

Lindsey had come across these records almost immediately after getting access to Emily's files. It had frustrated her that the Internal Revenue Service wouldn't accept the validity of the evidence that she presented to them, and insisted on opening their own investigation into Chet. The good news was that the IRS investigation had apparently exposed even more serious financial high jinks by Chet, and these had drawn the involvement of the Criminal Investigation Division of the IRS.

These were the IRS agents authorized to arrest individuals suspected of the most serious tax law violations, money laundering, and other federal statutes under the Internal Revenue Service's realm of responsibility. CID agents didn't get involved in audits or fines for a missed tax return filing. They locked people up, frequently without bail, until their case came before a federal judge.

Turning her attention back to the group at the judge's bench, Lindsey watched Ariel Brenner arguing some point as Judge Roane merely shook her head. Finally, the judge dismissed the group and addressed the court, "As I was about to say before that interruption, this case is closed. Everyone, please remain seated while the Bailiff escorts a couple of federal officers in to perform their duty."

Chapter Nineteen

It was still strange to see the name on her emails.

In an age where many women did everything possible to maintain their own identity after marriage, such as hyphenating their maiden and married names, the choice that Lindsey had made was viewed by everyone aware of it as one of the greatest romantic gestures that they had ever heard of.

Choosing not only to take Paul Eddy's last name, but also to be legally recognized by her middle name of, Paulette, had been a change warmly embraced by everyone who learned of it. There had seldom been a misstep with someone calling her by Lindsey instead of Paulette once people learned of the change.

Even before the judge had granted their adoption, Megan and Annie had begun calling Paul, "Dad", or "Daddy Judge" when around other people. The girls adjusted to calling Paulette, "Mom", and based on their lifetime of knowing her as their aunt, she wasn't expecting them to. Although, she was curious how that might change once the baby was born.

Preferring to use a Bluetooth mouse instead of the touchpad on her laptop, Paulette slid the vase of flowers on the breakfast table back a bit further to allow the space required beside the computer to manipulate the mouse. The flowers had been one of Paul's gifts to her yesterday on their first Valentine's Day. Each of the girls had also received a bouquet of flowers of their own, both of which sat proudly in each girl's respective bedroom.

She didn't have a lot of time to devote to e-mail this morning, but Paulette wanted to quickly review the one that had come in from Chris Dutton, with the GBI, before she had to leave for her doctor's appointment.

Both Dutton and Cassidy had been sending periodic updates on the investigation into the life of Michaela Meyers, AKA, Michelle Powell. They had confirmed the suspicion of the FBI profiler that Meyers did in fact have a history of obsessive behaviors towards men that she had taken an interest in. She had been ordered into psychiatric counseling while with the Israeli Defense Force at least twice, and eventually forced to resign her position with the Oketz when a married officer's wife accused Meyer of trying to poison her.

No criminal charges had been filed due to a lack of evidence, but within weeks, Meyer had relocated to the United States to work at a dog kennel in Northern New York State. This apparently explained her purchase of the Leao tires during a trip to Canada. While attending the Westminster Dog Show in New York City, Meyer had met Ryan Powell. She had relocated to Georgia immediately after that dog show and they had married three months later.

This latest e-mail from Dutton detailed the information that the investigation had turned up on Ryan Powell himself. After reading only the first two paragraphs, Paulette muttered, "What a sleaze!"

It had taken the GBI a few months to track down all the women that Powell had been carrying on relationships with, before, during, and after his marriage to Michaela Meyer. With the exception of Emily Bethel, who Powell had only recently started to pursue, all the other women had been dog owners that he would hook up with at dog shows.

The GBI had identified seven different women just along the east coast of the United States who had admitted to having sexual relations with Ryan Powell over the past six years. Two of the women living closest to Powell, one in Atlanta and the other outside of Charlotte, North Carolina, stated that they had experienced unexplained damage to their houses or vehicles since beginning their affairs with Powell.

When pressed for the details on these incidents, the GBI determined that each had occurred within days of the women meeting up with Powell, implying that Michaela Meyers might have been involved, but they couldn't state this for certain. Dutton did hypothesize that these incidents might have been the precursor to Meyers' motivation in attacking Emily Bethel, followed by Lindsey Norris.

The bottom line from this e-mail appeared to be that, while Ryan Powell was a low-life piece of crap whose actions had tormented the woman who loved him into committing acts of violence against other women, there was nothing that he could be charged with. Paulette would have to give some thought to what consequences she might want to bring to bear on this man at some point.

Paulette checked the time on the computer screen before shutting it down. She had ten minutes before she had to leave for her appointment, and thought that using that time to get the puppies outside before she would have to place them into their crate would be a good idea.

Fulfilling Emily's plan to get the girls a dog, Paulette and Paul found two female Chihuahua sisters from the same litter. They hadn't intended for each girl to have their own dog, but the dogs were determined to each have their own human. The little girl named "Cookie", immediately bonded with Megan, while the other pup, named "Scone", latched onto Annie as her person.

After two months, neither pup had embraced the housebreaking efforts of the entire family, so it had become routine to place them into their shared crate when they had to be left at home alone. Fortunately, having siblings from the same litter being left alone together seemed to mitigate any separation anxiety for both pups. Paulette was confident that once they had been taken outside for a few minutes to do their business, Cookie and Scone would be fine in their crate until the girls got home from school.

~~~

"Mrs. Eddy?"

At the prompt from the nurse holding the door open, Paulette stood and followed her into the inner sanctum of the doctor's offices. This appointment was simply for her to receive test results, so she understood being led past the scale in the hallway on her way to an examination room.

The nurse directed Paulette to take a seat in one of the chairs rather than the examination table, and said, "Dr. Ceesparcs will be right with you."

Snickering silently to herself, as she did every time she heard this doctor's name spoken, Paulette wondered if his name had played any role in the medical specialty chosen. "See Sparks" was likely much more acceptable for patients of an OB/GYN than it would be for a proctologist, or a dentist, for that matter. Although, Paulette did remember once having a dentist named Dr. Payne, and he had been one of the best that she had ever visited.

There was a quick tap on the closed door before it opened and Dr. Ceesparcs entered, followed by the nurse. He was holding a folder, which he casually shifted to his left hand so that he could shake Paulette's with his right.

"Mrs. Eddy, I'm pleased to inform you that the blood tests show no markers for proteins, hormones, or other indicators of concern. Similarly, the ultrasound showed normal fluid levels in the nuchal fold area of the fetus."

When Paulette had first visited Dr. Ceesparcs to confirm her pregnancy, he had performed a comprehensive physical examination and a thorough review of her medical history before declaring her in perfect health and stating that he had no concerns about her ability to carry the baby safely to term. However, the fact that she was older than 35 years of age did present a risk of chromosomal conditions in the infant being higher.

Paulette knew that she and Paul would love and cherish a child with Downs Syndrome or other challenges as much as they would a perfectly healthy child. That didn't negate her obligation to prepare for any eventuality, so she readily agreed to the tests when Dr. Ceesparcs suggested them.

Handing a copy of the test results to Paulette, Dr. Ceesparcs said, "These results after your twelfth week are very encouraging, but I recommend that we consider a quad screen test during your nineteenth week. It looks for four different markers that could be signs of Down syndrome. If the results that far into your second trimester are clear, then I would see no need for further concern."

Nodding, Paulette asked, "So, you don't see any potential need for an amniocentesis test at some point?"

"I never say 'never'," the doctor replied. "You're healthy, barely over the age of medical concern, and everything we have tested for indicates that your baby is developing normally. You're about to move into your second trimester, which will be an exciting time, and tell us a great deal about your baby's development. Once the quickening starts, in approximately a month I would guess, we'll discuss what feels normal for your baby and monitor the movements."

"I think that I have already felt it moving," Paulette proudly announced.

Just entering the thirteenth week of her first pregnancy, Dr. Ceesparcs knew that his patient's uterus was still low in her abdomen, near her pelvic bone. While her fetus was likely making subtle movements, he would be surprised if these were actually detectable to her yet. He didn't want to discourage her. A premature awareness of the fetus typically led to a greater awareness of the growing baby in an expectant mother.

"You said at your last visit that you weren't experiencing any more morning sickness," the doctor noted. "Is that still the case?"

"The morning sickness was never really that bad," Paulette admitted. "I would just feel a bit queasy on occasion, but that hasn't happened for a few weeks. Other than my breasts feeling more tender than usual, I feel great."

The doctor made a note of Paulette's comments, and then said, "Good to know. You're in great shape, so maintain a regular exercise routine of walking and whatever yoga positions that you feel comfortable with. Eat sensibly and take your vitamins. We'll see you again in two weeks unless you feel a need to come back sooner. We'll always find time to fit you in if you have any concerns."

Paulette was beaming with happiness as she said, "Thank you, doctor. I'm excited to go home and finally tell my daughters that they are going to have a new brother or sister in a little under six months. They are going to be over the moon happy."

Paul had argued against her, but Paulette had wanted to wait until the risks associated with her pregnancy were more defined before sharing the news of her pregnancy with anyone other than him, but especially with Megan and Annie. There was never any doubt that the girls would love and cherish the baby, regardless of its condition at birth, but if there was a chance that the baby would be born with any developmental issues, Down syndrome, or other challenges, she had wanted the months before its birth to be used preparing the girls for the support that Paulette knew that they would want to provide.

Reasonably confident that the test results indicated there was minimal risk that the baby wouldn't be healthy at birth, Paulette was now anxious to share the news with the girls. She knew that they would badger her relentlessly to tell them what the gender of the baby was, but neither she nor Paul wanted to know if it would be a boy or a girl before it was born. The girls would just have to wait along with them.

Boy or girl? Did it matter?

Not where love was concerned. Although Paulette secretly hoped for a boy only because they already had two girls, and she expected that Paul would be an even more ideal father for a son than he already was for his two daughters.

If the baby were a girl, the name for her would be easy. She would be named, "Emily". Paulette would not negotiate on that, and she knew that she wouldn't have to. Where a boy's name was concerned, she was fine leaving that choice to Paul and the girls. Paulette had already decided that regardless of his given name, her son would always be her own, "Little Eddie".

~~~

"I believe it was Mark Twain who said, 'The two most important days in your life are the day that you were born and the day when you learned why.'"

Yvette Rhoades looked confused, so Paulette continued, "It has to do with realizing that your life has a purpose, and then recognizing what that purpose is. The purpose of my life was not to obtain unimaginable wealth, but to be a wife to the man I love and a mother to my children."

Rhoades muttered, "We found no record of you being married or having any children."

Nodding, Paulette replied, "And you never will. My private life will remain my private life. I agreed to meet with you in private, here at your hotel, to explain the employee buyout of my company, and allow you to report on my professional life up to that point. You can speculate on how much money I have, what my future plans are, or anything else that you want. You will not publish anything personal about me or my family that I do not provide to you here today."

Frustrated, Rhoades asked, "So, I can mention that you are married with children but provide no further details. Why bother?"

"That's a question that you will have to take up with Gail King," Paulette retorted. "Those are the terms that she agreed to with my legal representative in order for the Globe to have an exclusive interview with me. That and no pictures."

Although Janice may have put "the fear of God" into the management team at the Boston Globe, where publishing stories on Lindsey Norris was concerned, Paulette realized that there were far too many atheists in the journalism profession to rely upon the reluctant agreement of one news organization to respect her privacy.

If she could control the narrative and present herself as someone devoid of any interesting personal, lifestyle, social, or political ambitions, this would hopefully quell the desire for any other journalists to persist in researching or reporting on her.

"You're only in your, what, mid-to-late thirties?" Rhoades observed. "Can I ask what motivated you to sell such a successful company as R.A.N.T.? Was it to start a family, as you mentioned was your purpose in life? Did you feel that your career would be an impediment to that?"

Paulette chuckled, and said, "No. When I decided to organize the employee buyout, I was motivated entirely by a desire to give the loyal employees of R.A.N.T. a piece of what they had all worked so hard to build. My own professional objectives had been met years ago. I had nothing left to prove to myself or anyone else in that regard. I was offered the opportunity to remain in a consulting role, but turned it down."

Rhoades smirked, and asked, "You wanted the employees to sink or swim on their own?"

The look that Paulette gave Rhoades made her shrink back into her chair, but the words were delivered in a measured and professional tone, "I suggest that you track the performance of R.A.N.T. over the next year before deciding on whether or not I placed the company or its employees at any risk of failure."

Her bravado visibly waned, Rhoades asked meekly, "You say that your motivation to sell your company was to reward the employees and not to start a family, yet less than six months later, you claim that this was the purpose in life that you had discovered for yourself. That seems awfully quick. Can I assume that the children you mentioned are not your own, biologically, I mean?"

Slowly bringing her right hand to her abdomen, Paulette smiled, and said, "My two current children are adopted, and that is all that I will say about them. My next child will be the biological offspring of my husband and me. All of our children will be loved equally, by their parents and their siblings."

Rhoades plugged away, attempting to get more than her interviewee was willing to share based upon the stated conditions for the interview, "You're worth what, between ten and twenty billion dollars? Why are you reluctant to share any of your plans for your wealth?"

Shrugging, Paulette said, "The simplest explanation is, because it is no one else's business. No one has a right to know how you spend your money, do they? I believe most people feel the same way about their own personal finances. Whether a person has seventeen dollars, or seventeen billion dollars, their right to privacy concerning that money is equal."

"I can assure you," Rhoades snorted, "People never place the same perspective on the privacy of someone else as they do on themselves. Look at how those multimillion-dollar lottery winners are hounded."

Shaking her head in disagreement, Paulette said, "With lottery winners and the like, those are an experience shared by anyone who also played the same lottery. The expectation for privacy by the winners is non-existent. It is the price paid for winning a game played by millions of others. I didn't win the lottery. I built a company on hard work, creative technology, and intellectual property of my own design. No one shared in my toils besides my employees, and they have all been rewarded accordingly."

The frustration in Rhoades' voice was obvious and also alarming for Paulette when she was asked, "So that I understand, I can write that you founded your own company, sold it for undisclosed billions to the employees, you are now married with two children, and a third one on the way. Nothing else, correct?"

Leaning forward in her chair to close the distance between them, Paulette said, "Let's review what you know about me that you can report on: You know that I am from Spring Place, Georgia. You know that I attended M.I.T. You know that I founded R.A.N.T. and controlled it until the recent employee buyout. You know that I have a family, which is now my priority in life."

"That's not much to write a story about that would be worth reading," Rhoades lamented.

"Maybe not," Paulette conceded. "But there is one more thing that you know about me, and three more things for you to learn, all of which you should consider when worrying about whether or not your story will be read."

Confused, Rhoades asked, "What?"

Paulette spoke slowly and confidently, "What you know is that I have immense wealth, even if the exact amount has not been divulged to you. Now, what you need to learn first, is that this immense wealth provides me with unlimited resources of every type imaginable. What you need to learn second is that I have no reservations about using my wealth to protect the privacy of myself and my family.

"Finally, what you need to learn third is, that your career in journalism, and your entire existence on this planet will be permanently ruined if your story, or any future stories written by you include details on me or my family which were not provided to you by me personally."

Seeing the steely resolve on Paulette's face, Rhoades gulped before stammering, "You gotta know that I am not the only journalist seeking to write your story..."

"Of course, I know that," Paulette chortled dismissively. "But your story is based upon an exclusive interview with me. When it appears as dull and uninteresting as I expect you to make it, I suspect that others will lose interest in writing their own stories."

"You want me to purposely tank my story?" Rhoades challenged.

Paulette simply nodded and said, "And you will survive to write another day, about another topic. If you refuse, and try to get too intrusive, or worse, creative when depicting either myself or my family, your career will be over before the ink dries. You will face financial ruin on a scale experienced by few people, and your reputation will be decimated. If you try to have another journalist write the story on your behalf, I will know, and the same misfortune will befall them as well as you."

Without waiting for a response, Paulette rose and said, "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a flight to catch if I hope to be home in time to kiss my children goodnight."

One of the reasons that Paulette had told Janice to arrange for this meeting at a hotel near the Atlanta Airport in the middle of the day, was the implied subterfuge of her having flown in to participate. The reporter might know that Lindsey Norris was originally from a small town in northwest Georgia, but learning that this is now where she lived would be much more challenging, especially if Paulette kept Rhoades guessing.

The two-hour drive back to Spring Place would get her home around the same time that the girls arrived home from school, and plenty of time for her to get dinner prepared before Paul got home from work.

She really had found her reason for being born.

~~~

"You would change your lifestyle for him?" Paulette asked suspiciously. "You like him that much?"

Janice's giggle was full of so much life that it almost made the speakers in Paulette's truck hum along with it. She finally said, "I like him. He's honest and has a good heart."

Paulette couldn't resist her retort, "So, it's true what they say; opposites do attract."

Janice sighed dreamily and said, "Yeah, I guess they really do. What can I say? Jimmy doesn't just get me; he gets to me like no one else ever has. He's all that I can think about."

"Well, you better be thinking some about the sale of the shares and getting the funds routed into the trust," Paulette admonished.

She wasn't seriously chastising Janice, since she knew that the deal to sell the shares in Cascade Carpet Mills was a priority for the attorney. Charles Bethel's conviction on the numerous tax evasion and money laundering charges had negated the restrictions on the shares being sold, and Paulette had jumped at the chance to rid the girls of any association with their former father's former company.

Paulette was also overjoyed at the prospect that the beautiful attorney might have finally found a man of her own to settle down with. Not that she harbored any fears of Janice where Paul was concerned, but Paulette knew that there were several wives in northeast Georgia who would sleep easier at night if they knew that Janice Evers was no longer walking the streets, single and unattached.

Being attached to the ruggedly handsome and highly respected assistant director of the Georgia Bureau of Investigation, James Cassidy, would also put these wives at ease. This was a man who was clearly capable of protecting what he believed was his, and if what Janice had mentioned about their relationship was true, Cassidy had reason to believe that Janice Evers was entirely his, and his alone.

"Well, the funding has already gone through," Janice replied to Paulette's concerns over the sale of the shares. "Now, back to your interview with Rhoades. Do you think that she got the message, or should I ask Gail King to just pull her off the story entirely? She would do it, you know."

"No," Paulette insisted. "We know that the story is going to be told by somebody. It might as well be done by someone that we have some control over, and right now, that person is Yvette Rhoades. You can remind King that you want to review the story before it is published to ensure that our terms were adhered to."

"I will," Janice agreed. "When do you want to come in to go over the final tax filing for Emily? We have until April 15^th, but the sooner we get that filed, the sooner the entire probate process on her estate can be put to rest."

Paulette considered the question before replying, "You have everything needed to complete the forms, correct? How about if we find a time one day next week? Pick a day when we could spend a few hours on the taxes before having lunch with Karly and Marly."

"A girls' lunch would be the ideal time to share her pregnancy with all of them," Paulette thought. That was, if her telling Megan and Annie didn't see the announcement spreading like wildfire through their small community.

~~~

"How did you know?" Paulette asked in amazement. She then turned on Paul and asked accusatorily, "Did you tell them?"

Paul threw up his hands in mock defense, but it was Megan who answered, "Dad didn't tell us. We figured it out on our own by observing the changes in your behavior."

Paulette wasn't exactly disappointed that Megan and Annie had figured out that she was pregnant, she was just curious about how they had done so. "What changes?" she asked.

"Mostly your diet," Megan explained. "Things like you not adding a raw egg to your protein drink or you no longer eating your meat rarer than everyone else."

Annie added, "I figured out the hot tub."

"Well, that one probably was an obvious tell," Paulette thought. As much as she had talked about enjoying the hot tub while the natatorium was being built, she hadn't been in it since its completion due to her pregnancy. Paul had suggested turning off the heater so that the water temperature wouldn't be an issue during her pregnancy, but Paulette knew that doing so would diminish the enjoyment of it for him and the girls. She was content to sit on the edge and just soak her feet and lower legs in the water as her way of sharing their experience.

Paul observed, "We thought that you two girls would be more excited to learn the news."

"Are you kidding?" Megan exclaimed. "We've been freaking out waiting for you guys to share the news with us..."

"Is it going to be a boy or a girl?" asked Annie.

Paulette teased, "Yes, it will be a boy or a girl."

The girls whined in unison, "Which one?"

"We're not going to know until it is born," Paul stated. "It will remain a mystery until then. For all of us."

"The reason that we waited to tell you that I was pregnant was that I wanted to have a better picture of the baby's health before getting everyone's hopes up," Paulette explained. "At my age, having a baby is slightly riskier, both for the baby and the mother. Today, I received assurance from my doctor that everything with me and the baby appears normal and that he expects no problems with me carrying a healthy baby to a full term. You both will have plenty of time to get to know your little brother or sister over the summer."

"What are we going to name it?" Annie asked.

This time, Paul did the teasing, "Well, since we already have a 'Cookie' and a 'Scone', what do you think about calling the baby, 'Biscuit', if it's a boy, or 'Croissant', if it's a girl?"

"Those are great names!" Paulette exclaimed. "We can call our family 'Le Eddy Boulangerie'."

Megan took Annie's hand and said, "See! Although they may be legally allowed to reproduce, you and I are going to have to raise this child. We can't entrust its upbringing to these two or it will turn out just like them."

Giggling, Annie replied to her sister, "Sad, but true."

Tweaking Annie's nose, Paul said, "Okay little 'Miss Sad But True', if you want my help with that book report, we better get on it."

Paulette rose from her chair and said, "You two can use the table. Megan, why don't you give me a hand in the kitchen for a few minutes?"

Megan followed Paulette into the kitchen. The after-dinner dishes had already been taken care of, so unless Paulette was planning to cook or bake something, Megan didn't know what she might need help with.

"Popcorn?" Paulette asked.

Megan brightened as she replied, "Sure!"

Paulette instructed, "You melt the butter while I pop the corn."

"Before we start," Megan murmured, "Can I see it?"

Since she was in her own home and wearing only loose and comfortable sweats, Paulette was not embarrassed to quickly raise the bottom of her shirt with one hand while using the other to slightly lower the waist of her pants. The bulge of her pregnancy was on clear display for Megan to examine at her leisure.

"What does it feel like?" Megan asked as she tentatively touched Paulett's abdomen?

Paulette considered Megan's question. She had not been present when the young girl had begun puberty, but the discussions on the female reproductive process and subsequent similar talks between mother and daughter had all been related to Paulette by Emily. She knew that Megan understood the basics.

"I suppose it's different for every woman," Paulette began. "There are so many different feelings, both physical and emotional, and it seems like there are new ones every day. I can tell you that physically, I actually feel wonderful."

Megan dropped her hand from her belly, so Paulette pulled her waistband back up and dropped her shirt into place as she continued, "The slight concern that I had until this morning over the condition of the baby is now mostly excited hope. I also feel extremely grateful. I thought that I would never have children of my own, and now that I will, I am grateful that I get to share that experience with you and Annie."

"And Paul," Megan added.

"Of course, Paul," Paulette agreed. "But that is different. With you and Annie, we get to share something as females that I can't share with Paul. Like this discussion right now. I get to share the miracle of childbirth with my daughters, to allow them to experience the wonder of it all with me. I never had that chance with my mother, but I did have it some with your mother.

"I wasn't able to spend as much time with her when she was pregnant with either you or Annie as you both will have with me, but I treasured every moment I could share with her."

Megan hugged Paulette and said, "I remember rubbing something on my mom's belly when she was pregnant with Annie."

"Almond oil," Paulette confirmed. "It helps moisturize the skin to minimize stretchmarks. Paul has already picked some up for me. You girls will have to take turns with him if you want to rub it on my belly."

Megan boasted, "Annie and I have already talked and we both want to do as much as we can to help you and Dad get ready for the baby. This is going to be so cool!"

Paulette hugged Megan before turning her attention back to the task of making popcorn. As the kernels started popping, she watched Megan beginning to put a stick of butter into a small sauce pan. "Can I ask you something now?" she said.

Megan glanced up and said, "Sure."

"Who is Cody Foster?" Paulette asked. "Is he the boy that you met up with at the Valentines Day dance at your school last Friday night?"

Megan blushed and didn't seem inclined to answer for a few seconds. She finally said, "Yeah. He's in most of my classes so we hang out at times. I really like him, but I'm not sure that he feels the same way about me."

Paulette nodded, "I got that impression from what I heard you and Annie discussing about him. Can I offer you the same advice that I think your mom would have?"

Keeping her focus on the melting butter, Megan merely nodded in reply.

"Your mom," Paulette began. "She would have told you that sometimes the patient person receives the best love story. Don't allow anyone to rinse the color out of your dreams."

Paulette didn't mention that Emily would have been speaking from experience since she felt that she had rushed into marrying someone that definitely wasn't her love story.

"Like you and Dad?" Megan asked.

"In a roundabout way," Paulette confirmed. "Someday, someone will walk into your life and show you why no one before them worked out. You might experience a heartbreak or two along the way, but sometimes, like with me and Paul, the heart gets a good break."