and the greater good? I doubt it.” I quickly jotted down where to find Patty’s body. “This conversation never took place,” I said to Morey.
“Got it.”
I ended the call and arranged for the wire transfer. Now…how to clean up this mess?
George Steel would know. I’d bet my fortune he’d cleaned up messes far worse than this one. I’d create a story, bring in Patty’s parents—after paying them off, of course—and convince both Ennis and Daphne that Patty had joined the Peace Corps and gone off to Africa, met someone, and never looked back.
Daphne was fragile. Murph’s death had nearly broken her, and they weren’t even close. Patty? I’d have to pull a Jonathan—keep Patty’s death from her like he’d kept Sage’s.
This would be my legacy—part of it, at least.
To protect those I loved from the evils in this world.
Daphne was too perfect for these evils, and I had the ability to protect her. My need to protect her was greater than anything I knew, and I’d felt it the first time I’d laid eyes on her.
I jerked out of my chair when someone knocked on the door. “Yeah?”
The knob turned. Daphne stood in the doorway. “Hi. I’m back.”
“Back?”
“From therapy?”
Right. Her appointment with Pelletier. I’d get the scoop from him. He was being well paid to help my wife…and to keep me informed. “How did it go?”
“I’m not sure. But I’d like to keep going.”
“Of course. How’s the baby?”
“He’s good. I’m going to feed him now. I just wanted to let you know I was back.”
“Okay, baby. I’m glad it went okay.”
She nodded and closed the door.
I drew in a deep breath.
Man, marriage was complicated.
Life was complicated.
At least it was when you were George Steel’s surviving heir. He’d left a fucking mess for me.
I had to step up my game. Patty was gone, and I had no idea who’d killed her or why. Same as I had no idea who’d killed Murphy or why.
PIs could find the bodies—and in Murph’s case, the body was already around—but not figure out who or why.
Which meant only one thing. Whoever was behind these deaths covered their tracks very well. Well enough that even George Steel couldn’t uncover them. He’d been on Murph’s death since it happened, and…nothing.
I had to become better than George Steel.
I had to create a legacy that could never be toppled and that was capable of anything.
Quickly I’d learned that type of legacy couldn’t be created doing things the legal or even the ethical way.
So I made a choice then and there.
A choice that I’d protect those I loved no matter what the cost.
Yes, I’d made that proclamation before, but this time I vowed to stop at nothing.
No matter the cost.
And it would be costly, but if I proceeded intelligently, my child wouldn’t pay the price for my sins.
Did you ever see a dead body?
I asked the question silently to my dead father as I slowly approached the lump covered in a blue plastic tarp.
Darkness had fallen, and the ray from my flashlight shone against the blue of the tarp.
I had to look. Had to make sure this was truly Patty Watson.
Nausea clawed up my throat like lava from an acidic volcano. I inhaled through my mouth, holding my nose. This was an old barn and wouldn’t smell good anyway.
Plus, I’d never smelled a dead body before. I didn’t want to start now.
I won’t get sick. I won’t get sick. I won’t get sick.
Too late.
I dropped to my knees and retched. When my throat stopped spasming, I inhaled involuntarily through both my mouth and nose.
The stench.
Old barn. Feces. Rot.
I retched again.
I was still ten feet away from the tarp-covered body.
“Did you ever have to do this?” I said aloud to my father in his grave. “Help me. For God’s sake, help me.”
No help came, of course. I didn’t believe in ghosts.
“I’m here.”
I jerked.
The voice was crackly, but familiar.
“What the fu—”
Someone grabbed me from behind and slipped a hand over my mouth. I jerked wildly. I could take most men, but my attacker had the element of surprise on his side.
“Quiet,” he roared. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to help.”
“Who the fuck are you?” I demanded. Of course the words came out as nothing, since his hand was still clamped over my mouth.
“I’m going to let you go now. Do not yell.”
My gun was strapped to my ankle. As soon as the attacker loosened his hold, I bent down and grabbed it, turned, and held it on him.
The assailant