LITMIR.BIZ

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my name?”

      “Looks like it.”

      She felt sick. Just when she thought she’d learned the worst of Keith, she discovered yet another layer of duplicity.

      Emily felt as though she been beaten to a bloody pulp, knocked to the ground, then kicked while she was down.

      “If that’s the case, let me assure you, I had no idea,” Bob asserted. “Had I even suspected such a thing, I would have done everything in my power to stop him.”

      He drummed his fingers on the desktop and heaved a sigh. “I hate to give you more bad news, but I’m afraid you will be held responsible for all of Keith’s outstanding debts. As soon as I file the will with the Probate Court, the people to whom Keith owes money will be coming to you for restitution.”

      “Yes, I know. Dillon has already reminded me to make the mortgage and car payments.”

      Bob cleared his throat. “Well…uh…I’m afraid there are considerably more debts than that. Keith has several outstanding loans.”

      “He borrowed money? Without telling me?”

      “I’m afraid so. Of course, I had no way of knowing that he hadn’t consulted you.”

      “I’d like to see those loan documents,” Dillon said in a brusque voice. “You do have them, don’t you?”

      “Well, yes, but, uh…I’m sorry, Dillon, but I can’t turn them over to you. That would be a breach of attorney-client confidentiality.”

      Dillon drilled him with a narrow stare. “Your client is deceased. Emily is his sole heir and, as you pointed out, liable for his debts and obligations. I am here at her request to advise her. Now, you can either give us all records related to Keith now, or we’ll get a court order. Either way, you will hand them over.”

      Bob’s mouth compressed. It was obvious that he wanted to refuse, but he couldn’t quite muster the nerve. “Very well, if you insist.” He flipped through a thick file folder, withdrew a single sheet of paper and handed it across the desk to Dillon. “Here is a list of all of Keith’s loans.”

      Dillon barely scanned the sheet. “These are just totals. I want the loan documents and every other scrap of paper pertaining to my brother. Now,” he added when Bob’s expression turned mulish.

      For several seconds the two men engaged in a silent battle of wills, their gazes locked, but Bob Larson was no match for Dillon.

      “Oh, all right,” he snapped finally and shoved a thick file folder across the desk toward him.

      “I don’t understand,” Emily said as Dillon flipped through the folder. “Why on earth did Keith need so much money? Where did it all go? Surely he didn’t spend it all on…on that woman.”

      “I’d like to hear the answer to that, too,” Dillon said. “And don’t try to tell me you didn’t know what was going on. You and my brother were old friends.” He tapped the file folder with the back of his knuckles. “And with this kind of extravagant spending you must have questioned him.”

      Bob’s face turned pink and he squirmed in his chair. Then he heaved a weary sigh, like a man about to come clean and unburden his conscience.

      “All right. I guess there’s no reason to keep his secrets now. I’ve known for years that Keith was doing some risky financial maneuvering—taking out high-interest, short-term personal loans to pay off credit cards and other debts, sometimes to pay off a previous loan. He was always just a step ahead of disaster—what my grandmother used to call, robbing Peter to pay Paul. He did spend a lot on women, but—”

      “Women?” Emily gasped. “You mean there was more than one?”

      “I’m afraid so. Over the years Keith had a string of mistresses. For a time, each one occupied the town house.”

      “I see.” The words hit her like a fist to the midsection. Emily’s heart contracted with pain, but she somehow managed to hold her head high.

      “But that’s not where all the money went,” he continued. “It was a combination of things, really. As I’m sure you know, your husband had very expensive taste.”

      “Yes, that’s certainly true.” Their home was a prime example. From the first, Emily had thought it too large and ostentatious, and much too expensive. She had wanted to purchase something a bit smaller, but Keith had insisted that a doctor of his standing needed a showplace home.

      “While he made an excellent living, Keith insisted on enjoying a lifestyle far beyond his means,” Bob went on. “In addition to the condo and the Lexus he purchased for his mistress, there was the beach house and the boat, expensive cars for himself and you. And there was Keith’s gambling.”

      “Gambling? My husband gambled?”

      “Oh, my, yes. Last year alone he made five trips to Las Vegas. He bet heavily with local bookies, as well.”

      If Bob Larson had leaped across the desk and hit her with a club Emily couldn’t have been more stunned. Or more devastated.

      Keith had gone on gambling trips and she hadn’t even known. Thinking back, she realized that all those times he’d told her he was attending a medical convention he’d actually been gambling in Las Vegas. No doubt his mistress of the time had been with him.

      Lowering her head, Emily cupped her hand over her eyes. She couldn’t bear this.

      “I’m so sorry, Emily,” Bob said softly. “I didn’t want to be the one to tell you. I tried to reason with Keith. Honestly I did. But he wouldn’t listen.”

      She shook her head, unable to reply.

      “Dammit, Larson,” Dillon growled. “What kind of friend are you? You knew all about Keith’s carousing and extravagance and his gambling addiction, yet you never alerted his family to the hole he was digging himself into.”

      “I…it wasn’t my place to interfere,” Bob blustered. “What did you expect me to do? Go tattling to his wife behind his back? So he was cheating. So what? That’s no big deal. A lot of husbands do it. As for his gambling, that was his business.”

      “You should have come to me and explained what was going on. I would have stepped in.” Dillon snapped the file folder shut. “Is there more we should know? Anything else you’re covering up for my brother? Any other nasty little surprises?”

      “Uh, no…no, that about covers everything.”

      “Good. Then we’re done here. I’m sure you won’t mind if we take this folder with us.”

      The other man looked as though he were about to object, but Dillon silenced him with a look. Tucking the folder under his arm, he stood and gently assisted Emily to her feet.

      Normally she would have flinched when he slipped his arm around her waist, but she barely noticed. Moving like a zombie, she allowed him to lead her out of the office.

      At the door, Dillon stopped and looked back at the attorney. “By the way, your services will no longer be needed. I’ll have my attorney file the will with the Probate Court.”

      Chapter Three

      Dillon glanced at Emily’s ashen face. She hadn’t spoken one word since they left Bob Larson’s office. “Are you okay?”

      She didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure she’d heard him.

      She sat in his pickup on the opposite side of the bench seat, huddled in a ball of misery against the passenger door, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. She stared straight ahead at nothing, her expression blank.

      No small wonder, he thought. These past five days she’d received one blow after another.

      “Emily? Emily, answer me. Are you okay?” he asked again, a little louder this time.

      She

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