Finlay Donovan Knocks 'Em Dead(Finlay Donovan #2)(85)

“We know you’re FedUp,” Vero said. “We know you tried to hire someone to murder Steven.”

Aimee’s mouth fell open. Theresa’s brow pinched as she pivoted toward her friend. “Aimee, what is she talking about?”

“I don’t know,” Aimee stammered. “I mean, I am fed up with Steven. He’s a total asshole, and he wouldn’t let me see Delia and Zach, but I never asked anyone to hurt him!”

“Check her phone,” Vero insisted. “You’ll see. She’ll have an email from Anonymous2 with pictures of the crime scene. Oh, by the way,” Vero said, turning to Aimee, “in case you haven’t figured it out, Steven’s not coming to your little ambush, so you can send a message to EasyClean and tell them the deal’s off.”

Theresa gasped. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Steven’s dead? Who’s EasyClean? Aimee, what are they talking about?”

“I have no idea!” Aimee cried.

Theresa lunged for Aimee’s phone. She scrolled, her eyes glistening as they moved over the screen. “I don’t see anything. There’s nothing here but text messages back and forth to her husband.” Theresa turned to Aimee with a look of disgust. “You’ve been texting your husband? You told me no one knew we were here!”

“I’m sorry!” Aimee said. “He kept messaging me! He said he missed me and he was worried!”

“Your husband is the king of all assholes, Aimee! I guarantee the only thing he was worried about was the money you cashed out of your joint accounts to help me! You’re not seriously considering giving it back to him!”

Aimee winced.

Vero grabbed the phone from Theresa. “There has to be a message here. I sent it myself. There were pictures and everything.” Aimee and Theresa stared at Vero with stunned expressions as she scrolled through Aimee’s phone. She pushed the cell phone back across the table. “I don’t understand. If you’re not FedUp, then who ordered the hit on Steven?”

“And who set up the meeting?” I asked.

“What meeting?” Theresa, Aimee, and Mrs. Westover asked in unison.

We all turned toward the front window as headlights cut through the trees. A pickup truck rolled up the long gravel driveway toward the house, triggering the motion sensors on the front porch lights as it slowed to a stop. The engine cut off and the headlamps extinguished. The dim light of a cell phone screen illuminated the driver in a soft blue glow as he typed a quick message. He squinted up at the house as his screen went dark.

Vero’s phone vibrated. The screen lit with an email from FedUp. Vero held it up for me to read.

Anonymous2, Why would you send me this horrible picture? Is this your idea of a joke? I don’t have any money, and if you contact me again, I’m reporting you to the police.



“I think we just got stiffed,” Vero said. Her eyes lifted to the window as the man got out of his truck.

Mrs. Westover rose from her chair, peeking around the curtains as he strode slowly toward the house. Her face paled as she turned to her daughter. “What on earth is Ted Fuller doing here?”





CHAPTER 39


“What do you think he wants?” Theresa asked her mother as Bree’s father climbed the front porch steps.

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Westover said in a low voice. “I haven’t spoken to Ted since their last meeting back in June. He and Carl had a falling-out about the sod farm.”

“What did they argue about?” I asked hurriedly.

“Ted didn’t like the way the profits were being divided. He wanted more of the shares since he’d taken a more active role in running the farm—he’d been working closely with Steven. But Carl and I told him we wouldn’t amend the deal. A contract is a contract, and Carl couldn’t help the fact that he was ill. He wasn’t in any position to walk away from his share, but Ted didn’t see it that way. I don’t think they ever reconciled. Ted and Steven ran the business, and the direct deposits appeared in Carl’s account every month, just like the original contract said they would.”

“Then why’s he here?” Theresa asked.

Ted’s footsteps thumped slowly toward the door. A sickening feeling of dread settled in the pit of my stomach. I had a pretty good idea why Ted was here. And I was pretty sure it wasn’t because he was invited to some mystery meeting. “Someone posing as Carl’s assistant sent an e-vite to Steven and Ted, inviting them both here for a meeting.” Every head turned to me. “That’s why Vero and I came. We thought it was Aimee, trying to lure Steven here to kill him.” Aimee frowned. “It’s a long story,” I said apologetically. “No offense.”

“None taken.” She looked a little queasy.

“But if Aimee didn’t set up a meeting with Steven and Ted, who did?” Mrs. Westover asked.

The doorbell rang. Nobody moved to answer it.

Mrs. Westover reached for her shotgun. “There are five of us and only one of him. We’ll get him inside and get to the bottom of this.” Mrs. Westover unlocked the dead bolt and cracked the door, holding her shotgun out of sight behind it. We all crept closer to listen.

“Barbara!” Ted sounded breathless, as if the sight of her had knocked the wind out of him. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”