“Did you hear anything specific in the exchange?” Cole asked Abigail now. “Any snippets of conversation or shouted words?”
“There was name-calling and swearing.” She shook her head. “I remember some of the more colorful expletives, but I couldn’t tell you which voice said what. They were gasping for air, rolling around the floor. It distorted both their voices.”
Cole looked up from the notes he was tapping into his phone. He’d asked permission to record the conversation, and he was doing so, but he’d been making notes the whole time, too.
“Could there have been a third voice in that room? Someone else in there that you didn’t see?”
“Sure. Maybe.” She shrugged, hesitating in a way that revealed her nervousness. “I couldn’t see the whole room from where I peered in through a crack in the open door. But I didn’t hear any extra set of feet scuffling or anything. And it seems like I would have heard a third person moving around to at least escape the mayhem of Jason and Rich throwing punches.”
“Right. Maybe.” Cole’s forehead scrunched in concentration as he reviewed his screen. “And you’re sure of the time and date?”
“Positive.” Abigail chewed her lip for a moment. “I kept looking at the calendar that week, trying to tell myself I had plenty of time to tell him about the baby—”
Cole interrupted, “Rich Lowell is the father of your child?”
Vaughn wrapped an arm around her waist, wanting her to feel his presence. To take whatever comfort she could from him being by her side. He understood it couldn’t be easy for her to focus on the joy of becoming a mother when the child’s father could return to Royal at any time.
The thought sparked a sudden wish that Vaughn could claim her baby as his. Hell, he wished he could claim her, too.
Foolish, fanciful notions.
But she would be safer if both those things were true, damn it.
Abigail’s hand shifted protectively to her baby bump. “If Rich Lowell was the man impersonating Will Sanders, then yes.” Her voice shook and she drew a deep breath. “Rich Lowell is the father of this child.”
“Rich was absolutely the imposter.” Cole sat back in his chair, setting aside his phone. “I’ve stopped recording, by the way. And I appreciate you answering my questions.”
A little of the tension in Abigail’s body eased. Vaughn could feel it as she relaxed slightly.
“I’m glad I could help. Or rather, I hope I’ve helped.”
Cole nodded. “You’re the last person to see Jason besides Rich.”
“Can you tell us your next move? What you’re doing to push through this stalemate the law enforcement agencies seem to have reached in the investigation?” Vaughn hated not knowing where Rich was. The sooner the imposter was behind bars, the better.
“For starters, I’m going back to the urn that Jason Phillips sent to his sister along with the note she received about Will’s death.” Cole threaded his fingers together behind his head as he leaned back. “I need to get the contents of the urn retested in case there is DNA present in bone fragments.”
“But you know it’s not Rich, right?” Abigail asked, her fingers toying with the hem of her dress where it fell over her knee.
“Correct. What I’d like to do next is see if it matches anyone else.”
“Jason.” Vaughn supplied the obvious answer.
Abigail’s hand sought his before she spoke.
“You don’t think he killed Jason?” she asked, worry evident in her voice.
With good reason.
“He left Will for dead off Cabo San Lucas.” Cole’s voice was grim. “And he’s spent more of Will’s money than he could ever repay. So I’d call Rich Lowell a desperate man.”
Vaughn shifted his hold on Abigail, moving his hand to her back to rub soothing circles along her shoulders. She shouldn’t have to deal with any of this right now.
“Jason might have found out that Will was a fake and called him on it.” Vaughn tried to envision what could have precipitated the brawl Abigail had witnessed.
“Or he could have uncovered missing money and alerted Will,” Cole added. “But I’m also having the note that arrived with the urn reviewed by a handwriting expert to see if it’s a match with Jason’s writing.”
Vaughn’s finger rubbed along Abigail’s back, strands of her hair clinging to his wrist. “Smart thinking.”
“Will is committed to getting to the bottom of this mess. He’s even flying in some tech genius from Silicon Valley who thinks he’s got a software answer for all of this. Luke Weston from West-Tech.” Cole shrugged. “And while that may or may not work, I can assure you we’re putting every available resource on this.”
“Good.” Abigail seemed to have regained her composure. She straightened in her seat. “We’ll rest easier once we know what happened.”
“We’ll find out.” Cole’s smile was predatory. Certain. “We’ll locate Rich Lowell, too.”
Vaughn noticed the investigator didn’t promise the same for Will’s right-hand man, Jason Phillips.
Still, the investigation was moving in the right direction. Progress being made. But that didn’t mean Abigail and her child were safe. And until they were, Vaughn couldn’t walk away.
He couldn’t deny feeling relieved that he didn’t have to yet. Guilt bit him hard, since he knew that him sticking around could lead to their feelings growing. Deepening.
Frustrated, he bolted out of his office once the interview was over. He would see Abigail at the party, of course. But first, he would throw himself into fund-raising and give them both a breather.
* * *
Half an hour later, Abigail followed Belinda McDowell, the Royal Memorial development officer, who’d led the meeting the day she was hired. The woman was in charge of the statue’s unveiling. An announcement had been made at the rooftop party, inviting guests to join them for a brief ceremony in the children’s ward since the sculpture was too huge to transport
