Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) - Karen Rose Page 0,139

told no in her life. This was what happened when women weren’t kept on a leash and busy doing chores. They got gossipy and peeked in your windows and played armchair detective.

Mr. Smythe, now . . . DJ did regret having to kill him. But if the man had only minded his own business, he would still be alive. Storing his body in the freezer had been necessary, because he could no longer count on Kowalski for body disposal.

Kowalski had to have some kind of chipper shredder, because the bodies simply disappeared. Even when there had been half a dozen rival gang members dead on the ground. He’d always wondered where Kowalski put them.

He wondered how long it would take for Mrs. Smythe to think of looking in the freezer for her husband once she got home. Maybe he should move some of that frozen meat out of the chest into the kitchen freezer. That way she wouldn’t need to open the chest for a while.

It would give him time, especially if he hadn’t finished this by Tuesday when Mrs. Smythe came home. Luckily, she hadn’t called yet, opting instead to send a few texts every day. He’d noticed a few new texts pop up on Nelson’s locked phone screen that morning and needed to try to answer them, or the lady of the house might ditch her trip and come home early.

DJ hoped Smythe’s face hadn’t gotten freezer burn. He wasn’t sure if it would still unlock his phone if there were ice crystals forming. Hopefully it wouldn’t matter, because hopefully he was getting out of here sooner rather than later.

He’d wasted too much time watching video that was after the fact. He had added the camera to Smythe’s Wi-Fi, which enabled him to watch the feed in real time when he wasn’t physically in the bedroom, but that was still playing defense. It was time to get ahead of the power curve.

After a good night’s sleep, he’d realized that he had a valuable piece of information: Daisy Dawson’s place of employment. Everyone else had either hidden their addresses behind fucking corporations or, like the Sokolovs, had round-the-clock security.

Daisy worked at a radio station in Midtown Sacramento. She was on the air right now, so she was there. Her show was over at ten, so he needed to get his ass in gear.

He was going to shoot her as she left work. With any luck, he’d kill her, and then all he’d need to do was pick off Gideon, Mercy, and Amos at the funeral. And if she survived, Gideon would rush to the hospital. I can follow him home from there.

Then, eventually, the prick would visit his sister. And then I’ll have them both.

GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA

FRIDAY, MAY 26, 12:00 P.M.

“Wow.” From behind the wheel of the Bureau-issued SUV, Croft stared up at the mansion that Anthony Ward—a.k.a. Roland Kowalski—and his wife Angelina called home.

Ward’s business location had been a bust. Mr. Ward had not been in, according to his receptionist. She’d told them that Mr. Ward would call them if he wanted to and, unless they had a warrant, to remove themselves from the premises or she was calling security.

Tom had low expectations for this home visit. Anthony Ward would already be in hiding. Or manufacturing an alibi. But maybe they could get through to Mrs. Ward.

Croft glanced at Tom from the corner of her eye as she turned into the grand driveway. “I guess this kind of place is old hat to you, though.”

The Wards’ house resembled an old manor home. “I’ve seen a few like this. A lot of my former teammates had estates like this, with electric fences and security guards.”

“Why don’t you?” Croft asked. “I’ve wondered why you bought a duplex in Rocklin when you could have had something like this.”

“I didn’t want something like this.”

Her glance had become disbelieving. “What did you want, then?”

“I lived in the house that my stepfather grew up in. When it got burned down, we rebuilt on the same foundation. It’s a home. Not a mansion. I wanted something like that.”

“But a duplex?”

“I liked the neighborhood,” he said defensively. “There are real families there that you can smile at, and you can buy their kids’ lemonade.”

She smiled. “Even though it was awful.”

He smiled back, not surprised that she remembered the detail from their conversation on Wednesday. “Even though.”

“But you could have afforded more.”

“Liza couldn’t.” The words were out of his mouth before he could call them back.

Croft’s brows