Page 40 of The Guilty One

Celine,

I’d be more than happy to answer any questions you have about Aubrey Vance. She was a dear friend, and I’m still sad we don’t have answers or justice for her. I’d love to meet for coffee to discuss if you’re around the Dublin area. What do you say?

Thanks,

Conroy

I respond quickly, giving him a few different coffee places in between us and head to the bank.

Once there, I’m nearly certain they think I’m the one trying to steal from my husband, but they do what I’m asking of them anyway, closing the old accounts and opening new ones with only my name on them. It shouldn’t be this easy, but it really is. If Tate had wanted to, he could’ve taken everything. And if he does come back, if this is all just a misunderstanding or if he has a good explanation for it, I’m going to have to explain myself for this and hope he understands.

“And you’re sure there were no deposits coming into the old accounts?” I confirm for the third time, hoping they’ll see the investment money pending.

“No ma’am,” the banker, Lauren, says, “nothing yet. But as I told you, if anything does try to come in over the next thirty days, it will reopen the account. After that, it will be kicked back, and you’ll have to contact the payer directly to have it rerouted, so you definitely want to get everything switched over to the new account before those thirty days are up.”

“Okay, great.” I nod, gathering the paperwork back up. “I will.”

“And if you decide to add anyone else to the account, you can just bring them in.”

“Right, thanks.”

“We recommend adding a POD beneficiary at a minimum, so that if something happens to you, there’s a path for where the money should go. Otherwise, it’s a fight in the courts, even with a will in place.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I’ll keep that in mind.” If she even knew what my life was like right now, she might realize that sounded a bit like a threat. If something happens to you…

When I leave the bank, I finally call my insurance agent back to get an update on Tate’s car, which seems like it’s on its way to being totaled—probably the best possible outcome in this situation—and the check should be in the mail within the next week.

I’m feeling as accomplished as I can be when a new email from Conroy comes in. He’s agreed to meet me at a coffee shop an hour away from here, so I fire off a reply to let him know I’m on my way and hop in the car.

It feels a little bit like cheating on The Bold Bean when I arrive at Jitters Coffee House, but I find the space cozy and inviting, despite my nerves. Conroy Langdon is waiting for me at a table near the back. He looks just like his photo, unlike the people who use headshots from ten years ago. He’s wearing a suit and sporting thick, blond hair and a kind smile. When I approach the table, he holds out a hand for me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know your coffee order, or I would’ve gotten you something.”

“That’s okay.” I wave him off, sitting down at the two-seater table. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“Of course. To be honest, I was shocked when I got your email. I haven’t heard the name Aubrey Vance in over a decade. You said you found my article about her death online?”

I nod. “Yes, and I looked you up and found your LinkedIn. I hope that’s okay.”

“More than okay. Can I ask why you were looking into her? Are the two of you related?”

I shake my head. “No, I didn’t know her. I just…” I pause, trying to decide how to address this. “Because there is literally no better way to say this, I’ll just be honest. Something strange is going on, and I was going down a rabbit hole that led me to discover Aubrey’s obituary.”

“A rabbit hole.” He blows on his cup of coffee, lifting it to his lips and taking a sip. “Color me intrigued. Tell me more.”

“My husband is missing.” Those words never get easier to say.

His eyes flick to the wedding ring on my finger. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you. And when I was looking into some of his friends, I found out about Aubrey, and well, now here I am. I know it’s going to sound crazy, but part of me is starting to think this all could be related somehow.”

The wrinkle in his forehead deepens. “Related? How do you mean?”

“My husband went to school at Highland, and by coincidence or not, most of his friends are now either dead or missing. Aubrey was found just after the first of his friend group went missing.”

His brows crinkle together. “Missing? Wait a second, you don’t…do you mean Matteo Acri?”

“You knew him?”