Page 40 of Tainted Reasoning

Chapter Eighteen

Tamara

“For you.” William puts a large wad of paper down in front of me.

“What’s this?” I flip over the first few sheets and see they’re bank statements. My eyes scan to the name at the top: Viscount Arthur Hamilton. “How on Earth did you get these? Actually, no, don’t tell me. Everything about the code of ethics I operate under says I shouldn’t even be looking at these.”

“I’m sure if something has come from MI5, then it can’t be deemed to be too illegal.” William winks at me and sifts through the papers until he reaches a page on which he’s stuck a Post-it-note. “I think it’s probably a decoy, but the Viscount has been paying an amount once a week to this lady.”

He produces another smaller wad of paper and puts it in front of me.

“Camilla Fentress. She’s been interesting to research because she’s not a real person.”

“Not a real person?” I screw my nose up in confusion and scrutinize the information in front of me. Camilla’s name is in bold at the top of the page. Underneath is a picture of a woman who can’t be much older than twenty.

“Nope. It’s a company. This is actually a photo of a woman named Lindsey Sharp, originally from Missouri. Three years ago, she traveled to Los Angeles to make her fortune, but I’ve discovered she never made it to LA. She disappeared and hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”

He flicks through the bank statements again and stops at another marked page. “This statement is from around the time when she disappeared.”

I look down at the information in front of me and instantly see a cash withdrawal from an ATM in Missouri.

“The Viscount was there?”

“Yes. He was there and is now using a picture of her with a fake identity. If you ask me, something doesn’t add up, and that’s not just because I’ve got a mathematical brain.”

“No. We need to research this Lindsay Sharp some more and see how she became a company called Camilla Fentress.” I flick over the pages of the report William’s given me on Camilla. There’s nothing concrete in there to go on, yet.

“That’s why I’m not just a pretty face. I’ve already got our contacts on it. This could be a lead on the missing girl Joanna, or it could be nothing. But I’m going to pursue it.”

I reach out and take his hand.

“I think you’re actually enjoying playing detective.”

He shrugs.

“Maybe, a little.”

A stray hair tumbles out of the small bun at the nape of my neck. William reaches around and tucks it back in. His hand lingers at my chin, and I feel the heat of his body warm mine with desire. He leans into me and our lips meet in a quick kiss.

He pulls back. Neither of us speak – we just sit in silence, staring at each other. Sticking my tongue slightly out of my mouth, I lick what was left behind of his taste. He leans in again, but we’re stopped by an abrupt knock at the door. William stands up and rearranges his trousers.

“Come in,” he says as he looks wistfully over his shoulder at me.

The door opens, and the butler enters.

“My apologies, sir. The Duke and Duchess are still at their charity lunch, and there’s a man here demanding to speak to either the Duke or you.”

“Who is it?” William asks, and I turn back to the documentation in front of me, allowing him privacy to talk with the butler.

“It’s the police, sir.”

“Police?”

“Yes, sir.” The butler lowers his head.

“I’ll come at once.”

William twists back around to face me. I can tell instantly that his anxiety is building.

---