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

take it apart piece by piece to build our case for the probate judge.”

I grab the will from the coffee table and read through it again. “There is no stated position for Tish in the company here. It doesn’t say she is co-president. She has no official title in the actual company.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

I take a breath and calm myself. “This is all John’s fault. He is the one who fell in love with the woman who killed him. And now she’s after my company, too. I read will forgery is hard to prove and is more common that you’d think.”

All it took was a simple search. According to Google, the people who commit fraud in these situations are the executor, relatives (second wife), or attorneys (Tish’s guy looks shady). Abrupt changes to the will are a red flag (what about a completely new one?) and forgery of a will is notoriously hard to prove in court. Great.

Bob clears his throat. “Don’t worry. I have a team of attorneys at the firm on this. Tish’s attorney has given us notice of administration. We’re preparing the objection now.”

“What about that attorney? Do you think he was in Telluride the night John died? Did he help with the murder?” I wonder. But of course, we have no way to prove his involvement.

Bob drops into the chair across from me. “I don’t know, I really don’t. I wouldn’t put anything past him. He’s a piece of work. Owns a small practice in eastern Kentucky. They seem to go way back.”

“He is her uncle, at least that’s what the receptionist told me when I called today,” I say.

“Kate, let me handle this,” Bob says.

“You should focus on proving John’s signature is a fake. Get legal to compel a search of the notary’s ledger. Someone pretended to be John,” I say. “I have hundreds of contracts, and the real will to prove it.”

“I have hired experts, we’re on all of this.”

Good.

“I think Mr. Price printed the will off the internet of all things,” Bob says. “We’ll outsmart them, don’t worry.”

I smile. Of this, I’m certain. “I realize she’s street smart. But she’s not business smart. She won’t get away with this.”

Bob wipes his face with his hand. “Ashlyn has the best case to challenge her legally. She’s a direct heir who should have received something in the will but didn’t.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“We’ll file a civil action lawsuit with the probate court in Ashlyn’s name. Ohio law considers her a ‘qualified person.’” Bob pauses at the front door. “I’m not against trying to prove that young woman murdered John. But the first step is the filing. I’ll need Ashlyn’s signature on this lawsuit, as soon as possible.”

“Have a courier bring over the paperwork when it’s ready. She’ll sign tonight when she gets home. She must be fed up with Tish, too. She sees what we see.” I wonder, though, if she’ll see Tish as a murderer? Because I do. And she is.

The timing of events makes everything clear.

Bob is on his phone, pacing again. He hangs up and says, “The papers will be delivered within the hour.”

I walk to the kitchen, Bob follows behind. What Tish has done is stunning. I pull out a barstool and sit at the kitchen counter. How can someone murder another person? What kind of monster kills her husband for monetary rewards? Couldn’t Tish just ask for a divorce? She must have been filled with hate. I can appreciate that kind of anger. I swallow as my imagination jumps to our condo in Telluride, to the deck where he texted me a photo of the drink. He had no idea what she had planned for him, that she would kill him that night. He knew the drink tasted funny, but he drank it anyway. To escape.

Oh, John. What a mess you made, and what a horrible way to die.

Bob looks at me, catches me wiping the tear from my eye. “Are you all right?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t see what Tish was capable of before now. John reached out to me his last night on earth, frightened, and alone, and dying. My god.”

But I did know one thing for sure—he was finished with Tish. But she got to him first. I shake my head and try to absorb the reality of what has happened. And the fact we won’t be able to prove any of this without a body or without her confession.

“I’ll be fine, we all will be fine, once we invalidate the will. I can’t wait to file that lawsuit.”

“We just need Ashlyn,” Bob says.

I check my watch and as if on cue, my daughter calls me. Thank goodness.

“Hey, honey, I need you home,” I say.

“Mom, listen, I’ve been in an accident. I’m fine. Just some bruises and a maybe-broken arm.”

It takes me a moment to process what she’s said. “Oh my god. What happened? Where are you?” Nothing can happen to my girl. She’s my life.

“I’m at Lane Avenue shopping center,” Ashlyn says. I can hear her crying. “My car is totaled. Chief Briggs is driving me home. Be there in a few.”

“Wait, what happened?” I ask, but she’s hung up. My head spins, and my heart beats so fast I can feel it lifting into my throat, choking me. I touch my chest with my hand and tell myself to calm down. Life can change in an instant, and does, all the time. I say a little prayer, thanking god that she isn’t more injured.

“What is happening?” Bob asks.

“She’s been in an accident. Sounds like she’s going to be OK. I have no idea what happened,” I say as we both hurry to the front door. “She totaled her first car, texting while driving. If she’s done it again, I’m going to kill her.”

CHAPTER 44

ASHLYN

I’ve never been in the back of a police car. That’s all I can think when Chief Briggs helps me into the back seat. That, and my arm hurts.