More Than Great Riches by Jan Washburn Read Free Book Online

     signal a four-alarm blaze. Her murky past sounded like the perfect background for an
     accessory to Rick Timmons and the theft of Ronda Starr’s jewelry.
    ****
    Tracy stood at the door to Keith Bradford’s law office without making a move to ring the
     bell. The old colonial house was still Keith’s home, but he had added a side entrance for
     his office. A small brass plate on the door stated, Keith A. Bradford, Attorney at Law.
     She wouldn’t have been surprised to see a flashing neon sign proclaiming, Keith A.
     Bradford, Distinguished State Representative.
    And then it came again—that eerie sensation that sent prickles down her spine. She was
     being watched—someone was following her. Heart pounding, she spun around, but the ghosts
     had vanished. All she could see was a group of children, laughing and shouting as they
     played tag on the village green. Yes, she really was paranoid.
    Every muscle in her body knotted with tension. Facing Keith again was going to be torture,
     but Maggie hadn’t given her a choice. Maggie made the appointment for her and then
     insisted on driving her into town.
    Tracy had not packed much of a wardrobe for her trip home, but her dark plaid skirt and
     navy blazer looked reasonably business-like. Go ahead. Ring the bell. Let’s get this over
     with.
    A pretty little blond answered the buzzer. Her heavy eye makeup gave her the appearance of
     a startled raccoon. Miss Dixon, she said politely. Please come in. Mr. Bradford will be
     with you in just a minute.
    The receptionist returned to her desk where the nameplate read Susan Collins. The waiting
     room was furnished in Early American style, attractive, but unpretentious. Tracy sank into
     a comfortable chair. Her nerves were jangling, but she tried to project an aura of ease
     and confidence. As she reached for a magazine, Keith made his appearance.
    Tracy, it’s so good to see you again. He oozed the famous Bradford charm from every pore.
     He hadn’t changed much over the past three years. Keith was still a handsome man although
     his sandy hair was getting a little thinner and his waistline a little thicker.
    As Tracy stood, he came across the room, clearly intending to give her a hug. She quickly
     extended her hand, limiting him to a cool handshake, but he took a little too long to
     release his grasp.
    Come in, come in, he urged. Tracy bristled at the possessive touch of his hand on her back
     as he guided her into his office.
    He took his seat behind a large mahogany desk and waved her to the chair opposite him.
     It’s been a long time. You’re looking great. His eyes appraised every detail of her
     appearance.
    Thank you. Tracy gritted her teeth. This meeting was supposed to be strictly impersonal.
     Stalling a moment to gather her wits, she gazed around the office. Typical Keith—an
     impressive assortment of framed degrees and certificates on the paneled walls and rows of
     bookshelves crammed with heavy legal tomes.
    Now, what can I do for you? His smile was almost a leer.
    She reached across the desk to place the tax notice in front of him. I’m sure you know
     about Jeff’s accident. He’s in the burn center at Mass. General. He’s so badly burned that
     they have to keep him in a coma for weeks. I’ve looked through his bank statements. Jeff
     has enough money in his savings to pay these taxes, but I need some authority to access
     his account.
    To Tracy’s relief, Keith’s manner became all business. That shouldn’t be a problem, he
     said confidently. We’ll petition the probate court to have you named as conservator of
     your brother’s assets. That will give you responsibility for managing his assets and using
     them for his benefit.
    He turned to the filing cabinet behind his desk and pulled out a printed document. We can
     take care of the application right now.
    It took just a few minutes to fill in the blanks on the form. Tracy felt the knots of
     tension