Death By Sunken Treasure (A Hayden Kent Mystery Book 2) by Kait Carson

the rest.”
    I squinted to read something scrawled along the margin. At first I thought it had been crossed out too, but now I realized the line was from the copier, not a pen. “Wait. This is different. We’ll have to double-check the original in the courthouse, but if I’m reading this right, Devon gets a one-quarter interest in the salvage permit for life.”
    “Are you sure about that?” Grant’s voice had an edge. “Devon gets a quarter interest outright?”
    I underlined the margin note and highlighted it, nodding as I did so. Then I remembered I was on the phone. “Yes, I’m sure. You can see that the streak is in a straight line for the length of the paper. It just darkens over the writing. The rest are specific bequests.”
    “I’m looking at the copy now. I see what you’re talking about. Interesting. So add that information with a note that it’s another will, timing to be determined. Don’t forget to add that the mother of Mike’s child and Dana each receive one hundred thousand dollars.”
    The snarky note next to Dana’s name that said she already got her share and the bequest was a consolation prize rankled me. I had to figure out a way to ask Dana what happened between them.
    “Go through the papers he gave us tomorrow. We need to find out about the insurance policy for his ex-wife. If I’m reading this correctly, it was promised in the Marital Settlement Agreement. Check the MSA to see if there’s any other information.”
    “Okay. The rest goes to his son in trust. At least that’s the same as our will. I’m going to finish this up and leave.”
    “Did you decide what to say to Dana?”
    I bit my lip. “No. You’re right. I’m just going to be there for her. Not mention anything else.”
    Each and every article of the hand-annotated will, except the bequest to his son, directly conflicted with my notes from the meeting. The changes didn’t make any sense, and I wondered what Deputy Diego would do with the information. If he ever got it. That would take a subpoena at worst, or a confidentiality agreement at best. I’d never heard of the police signing one of those. Warrants and subpoenas were their weapon of choice.
    By the time I put the will away, the clock told me I was too late to make it home and change before dinner. I thanked the foresight gods that I’d put a bottle of chardonnay in the office fridge that morning. I hated to arrive at Dana’s empty-handed.
    The Subaru tweeted its usual greeting as I stepped into the parking lot and hit the unlock button. I didn’t see the note until I slipped behind the wheel. The paper was stuffed under the passenger side windshield wiper. I looked sharply around the lot. My car and Grant’s red Jag were the only two left. I pulled my phone from my pocket and tapped Grant’s speed dial number. While the phone rang, I walked around the car and plucked the note out. Grant answered at the same time I opened the folded paper.
    “‘He did it to himself,’” I read aloud. “‘Wait ’til you hear the details.’” The note was unsigned.
    “Hayden? What are you talking about?” I’d forgotten the phone in my hand until Grant’s voice drew me back.
    His windows faced the back parking lot. Unfortunately, the windows in question were also behind him as he sat at his desk. “Did you see anyone around my car today?” I winced at the tremor in my voice. Something about the writing seemed familiar. I couldn’t place it.
    The sheer curtain pulled aside and Grant’s eyes met mine through the closed window. “No. What’s wrong?”
    I waved the white piece of paper in his direction and said, “That’s what the note says. I found it under the wiper.”
    The screeching sound of metal on metal broke the silence as Grant forced open the window to the small balcony and stepped out. He held his cell phone to his ear and reached his free hand, thumb and index finger forming pincers, in my direction. I reached up on tiptoe and handed him the