39. Knox
“Carolina Raylene Klein,” Dan announced. She’d shown up at the hospital in a burnt-orange skirt that was more of a belt, biker boots, and a tank top that struggled to contain her boobs. So, her normal attire. “Born and raised in California, thirty years old. Nearly thirty-one.”
Knox tried to sit up in bed, but the pain medication had worn off, and even shuffling a few inches was an effort.
“That’s her? That’s Caro?”
“Vance caught the real Caroline Menefee as she fell out of a cab at four a.m. this morning, Pacific time. It took him another two hours to sober her up enough to look at a mugshot. Luna and Jubilee provided a selection.”
Black sipped from a mug of coffee. “I hope Vance gave Caroline advice about not getting accosted on the street by strangers.”
“Yup, and I understand he was very tactful. He’s still there now, making her breakfast and cleaning up vomit in the bathroom, so I expect information will continue to trickle in. But we have the basics. The two Caros went to high school together until Caroline got asked to leave at the end of her junior year.”
“What did she do?” Emmy asked. “Just curious.”
“Slept with the football coach. Vance says Caroline’s talkative when she’s under the influence, and she kept whining because the coach kept his job while she had to find a new school.”
“I can actually see her point there.”
“Same, but the football team was top of the league and Caroline was bottom of the class, so I guess it was a no-brainer. Plus the family didn’t want to be the centre of a scandal, so it all got swept under the carpet.”
Irrelevant when it came to events in San Gallicano. “Can we get back to Caro?”
“Sure. So, Caroline and Carolina still bumped into each other over the years—they ran in different social circles but had mutual acquaintances, plus they had common ground academically. Not in terms of ability—Caroline attended the University of Coastal California for shits and giggles, while Carolina headed to Stanford on a scholarship.” Stanford? Knox’s girl was smart, but he already knew that. “Caroline scraped through her degree in marine biology because she liked going to the beach, while Carolina has a bachelor’s degree with distinction, major in management science and engineering, minor in biology. They used to chat about the ocean. Caroline graduated and went to parties. Carolina graduated and went right back to Stanford—she also has an MBA and a CPA. The last Caroline heard, she was working for some yacht company and dating a rich guy named Aiden. Caroline described him as hot, charming, and way out of Carolina’s league, no offence.”
Knox took offence on Caro’s behalf. Nobody was out of her league. In fact, she was out of his. An MBA? He’d barely graduated from high school.
“Surname for Aiden?” Black asked.
“We have a possible. When we searched yacht companies in California, Providence suggested AquaLux Yachts, with a former chief operating officer by the name of Aiden Kingsley.”
“Can we get a picture to Caroline?”
“We’re trying to find one.”
“Nothing on the company website?”
“Here’s the thing—it nearly went under three years ago. Tax fraud. Three senior staff ended up in prison.”
“Kingsley?”
“Not Aiden Kingsley,” Dan said. “Don Kingsley, the CEO. Older guy, so possibly Aiden’s father. The other two were the finance director and the financial controller, different surnames so probably not part of the family. The guy who owns AquaLux now—one Carlos Davila—says he bought the name and some of the assets and knows nothing about the rest. We’re trying to get hold of someone at the IRS who might be able to give us more information.”
Three years ago? Knox did the math, but not as fast as Caro would have. “You think Caro got caught up in the fraud?”
Or worse, had she been a part of it? Was she on the run? Was that why she’d come to Valentine Cay and cut off communication with the outside world? Knox dismissed the thought as soon as he’d had it. Caro wasn’t a thief. She was a liar—she’d admitted that—but if she was rolling in stolen tax money, she wouldn’t be living in a curtained-off corner of a communal bunkhouse and darning holes in her shorts.
“It’s possible, but the article in the local paper mentioned a whistleblower.” Dan gave him a questioning look. “What do you think?”
Caro had been terrified of Aiden catching up with her. Scared enough to blow up at Luna over a five-second video clip and prepare to flee the country. All this time, Knox had assumed that her ex was just a controlling asshole, but what if there was more to it? What if she’d sent his father to prison?
“I think she’s more likely to be a whistleblower than a thief. Where’s Aiden Kingsley now?”
“We’re working on that. His last known address was in Malibu.”
Emmy pushed forward off the wall she’d been leaning against since she arrived. “We’ll continue to work on this angle, but realistically, how likely is it that Aiden suddenly showed up here? Does he have any connections to San Gallicano?”
“I asked her that once,” Knox said, dredging up the memory from the depths of his still-sludgy brain. “She said the two of them took a trip here, that he liked to travel. I assumed at the time that she meant a vacation, but if he was in the yacht business, maybe they came for work? He could have a few contacts.”
“Even so, I’d put him third on the suspect list. Poachers at the top, then the stalker, then Aiden Kingsley.”
“Second,” Black said in a rare moment of disagreement with his wife.
It seemed to surprise her too. “Second?”
“I have an idea about the stalker.”
“Oh?”
“Let’s pay a visit to our client.”