Page 81 of Pulse
I strike the staff from the spreadsheet, along with Joseph and Alexis.
“And that leaves Freddy.” I flip to the team’s notes on the little bastard. “Finance graduate. Good family. Bit of a black sheep, but we all have one of those.” I scroll through random shit that has the hallmarks of Theo written all over it. “Took a wrong turn about a year ago. He wanted Dahlia back. Ninety-three calls to her cell phone over the past seven days. Charges pending.”
If he wanted her back, why would he threaten her to leave?The odds don’t favor her running tohim.It doesn’t make sense. Not really.
“But none of this makes fucking sense,” I groan again, growing agitated. “What am I missing, dammit?”
I look back through the names and hover over Alexis Dallo.
“He says he fell in love with her at first sight. Her letter said he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.”Dahlia’s words about her parents filter through my mind.
“When, exactly, did Joseph Dallo marry Alexis?” I ask, my fingertips flying across the keyboard. Newspaper articles load in seconds. “Three years ago on July twenty-second.”
My heart lodges in my throat as I search again. This time, it’s for an obituary. “Penelope Lovelace died …” I scroll down the page.Fuck. “Three years ago on March first.”
I stare at the dates on the screen. “He waited until Penelope died before he married Alexis? That’s either ironic or … not.”
Puzzle pieces snap together, but I don’t have enough to see the entire picture. But I know from experience that when too many pieces go together too easily, it’s because they belong there.
“This could mean that ol’ Joe was in love with Penelope and couldn’t move on as long as she lived.” I try to imagine being with another woman and knowing Dahlia walks the planet. “Definitely possible. Or it could mean …”
I glance at the clock. It’s late. Very late.
But fuck it. Ford knows how to silence a ringer if he doesn’t want to be woken up.
It rings twice before he answers it. “Landry.”
“Hey.”
“What are you doing calling so late? Everything okay?”
“Can’t sleep. The bed’s too soft. You?”
“Can’t sleep. No room. Ellie’s currently lying across it diagonally.”
I snort. “Can’t you buy a bigger bed?”
“Man, she’ll just jack that one, too. I love her, but she’s like sleeping with an alligator who does the death spiral randomly through the night.”
“Where do you sleep?” I ask.
“Couch.”
“You don’t have a guest room or something?”
Ford laughs. “I happily take the couch because that means she’s in my bed. And, at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.”
I glance up the stairs and grin.
“Anyway, why are you calling me at four in the morning?” he asks.
“How hard have you looked into Alexis Dallo?”
“Her background report’s squeaky clean. She’s done community service out of the kindness of her heart. Has a degree in nursing but isn’t using it right now. She was a pageant queen. I mean, she’s basically the thirty-year-old version of an All-American girl.”
I narrow my eyes, mulling this over again.
Thirty. She’s only a few years older than Dahlia.
