The Next Wife by Kaira Rouda (speld decodable readers txt) 📕

pulling out a chair for me at the kitchen table. “I take it they aren’t close.”

“No, it sounds like they hate each other. It was eerie, talking to her. And then, when I told Tish I talked to her mom, she freaked. I’ve hit a nerve, that’s for sure,” I say.

“Take some deep breaths. You’re covered in sweat. Let me get you some water,” he says.

“Sure.” I try to calm down, but my body is on high alert, like I dodged a bullet but another is heading in my direction, and I can’t see it.

“You need to stay away from her,” Seth says, handing me a glass of water. “Drink this.” He hovers over me, tucks my hair behind my ear. I begin to breathe a little like normal.

“Thing is, I watched Dad and Tish at work this summer. They didn’t flirt anymore, no gross PDA like before. Dad told me they had a fight and he was leaving her, as soon as he got back from Telluride. My parents were flirting. This is all so weird.”

“Did you know he was leaving Tish, before he told you? I mean, so what if they weren’t lovey-dovey? That goes away, I hear. And they had a fight, you said. Maybe it was the heat of the moment talking and they made up later, before he died.” He takes a seat at the table, too. I look out at the perfect backyard, much like my own. Nothing bad is supposed to happen here, to us.

But it does. I’m still shaking. And I know I’m right. “No, they didn’t make up. There’s no way he was staying with her, and she knew it. She killed him.”

Seth tilts his head. “We’ve been over this. Your dad had a heart attack. The coroner did an autopsy.” He gives me a quick hug, like I’m losing my mind.

“She cremated the body, doesn’t that say something?” I wish I could convince him to see what I see.

“It says she’s not a fan of caskets. Taking up all that space. I think it’s sort of green of her,” he says.

I shoot him dagger eyes.

“I know you miss your dad and you’re trying to find answers, but if Tish did something to him, the experts would have found something. That’s what an autopsy is for,” he says. “You should stay away from her.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re probably right. But I also know she’s hiding something.” I drop my head in my hand. No one is going to believe me.

I feel his strong arm around my shoulder. “You know what you need? A little gaming in your life. Call of Duty. Come on. To my room. You need to calm down a little. You aren’t thinking straight. Let’s go kill some twelve-year-olds online,” he says. “It will make you feel better.”

I can’t even get Seth to believe me. I need something more. I will figure out something more. “OK, fine. Let’s go kill some twelve-year-olds.”

And after that, I’ll figure out if my stepmonster killed my dad.

CHAPTER 40

KATE

I push open the door to a rather dingy mail supply store and walk to the counter. Dust covers the shelves where gift wrap and boxes should be.

“Hi. I need something notarized. Do you have someone available?” I ask the woman at the counter. She wears thick glasses and doesn’t meet my eye. I almost repeat myself, but she flops a big ledger on the counter.

“I’m the notary,” she says, flipping through pages without further comment.

“Angie?” I ask.

“Yes, that’s my name. What do you have to notarize?” she asks, hand out.

The store is empty, and I’m glad for that. I pull out the copy of the fake will and slap it on the counter. “I don’t need anything from you, but I need you to know you notarized a fake document. You could be in very big trouble.”

She glances at the document and sees her notary seal. She leans toward me across the counter, finger stabbing at her signature. “I simply acknowledge the document here, this last will and testament, was signed by this guy and these two witnesses in front of me. That’s all. Don’t you dare threaten me, honey.”

“Do you remember these people?” I point to John’s name, and then to Mary and Sarah, the witnesses. “What about him? This guy? John Nelson?” A shiver runs through me as I realize someone had to impersonate my former husband. I wonder who that was? How did he have an ID that worked? And then I realize it was likely George Price. “Did this John have a southern accent and a potbelly? Was he wearing a fedora?”

She finally meets my eye, and I see a twitch of acknowledgment. “You know, it’s not my job to remember every person. I just take the ID and fingerprints. And the money, of course.”

“Fine. Can I see the ID records for the two witnesses and John?” I ask, but already know the answer.

“A fancy lady like you already knows that’s not legal without a court order. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She grabs her ledger, slides it under the counter, turns, and walks away.

“This isn’t the last you’ll hear about John Nelson’s fake will. Count on it,” I say to her retreating back.

But she’s right. There’s no way to prove she did anything wrong. As for George Price and the witnesses, well, that’s a different story. One I will be happy to pursue myself.

As I walk back to the office, I feel good about my newly strengthened position in the company. I’ll have the voting rights as the majority shareholder despite Tish’s power play. And soon we’ll prove the will has been forged, whipped up to try to steal my company. What a joke. I decide not to go back into the office and instead to head home.

The sun is setting as I drive. I’m ready for Bob to tell me the will is a clear forgery and that they’ve figured out how to prove