Kill for Me

“You’re sorry? You’re goddamn sorry?” Breathe. “Where are you now?”

“About five miles from the cemetery, heading back toward town.”

“No, turn around and head for the Vartanians’ house. It’s another few miles, an old antebellum mansion. Talia’s car should be parked out front. Approach silently and wait for me. Bobby’s inside with Susa

“All right.”

“Germanio, listen to me. You wait for me, okay?” Luke handed Pete his phone. “Damn cowboy. Now Grant knows we know.”

“He’s not the only cowboy,” Pete muttered.

Luke shot him a glare. “What if Ellie were being held captive by a murderer?”

Ellie was Pete’s wife, a tiny, little woman. Pete treated her like spun glass. “Why do you think I’m here?” he asked quietly. “Now focus on driving. I’ll call Chase.”

Dutton, Monday, February 5, 1:35 p.m.

Charles was pissed. He’d had a tail, some clumsy GBI guy who’d been child’s play to lose. But that meant he’d been discovered. They knew. Dammit.

He’d known deep down that it was only a matter of time. He’d tried to stick his finger in the dike when he’d helped Daniel Vartanian catch Mack O’Brien. Mack had been calling lots of unwanted attention to Toby Granville and the other boys.

But all good things must come to an end. He could leave behind no loose ends. Bobby was a loose end. So was his house. He wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that once the GBI started looking they wouldn’t find his records. Everything truly valuable he carried with him in his ivory box, but the house had to go. He’d tell Paul to burn the sucker down. He dialed Paul’s cell. “I need you in Dutton,” he said.

“Well that’s good,” Paul said, “because that’s just where I’m headed. I’ve been trying to call you for an hour.”

“I told you I couldn’t take calls at the cemetery,” Charles said sternly. “I told you to text me. Even Bobby got that part right.”

“I can’t text and drive at the same time,” Paul said, clearly a

Charles drew a breath. “What?”

“You heard me. I have the alarm system set to call me and not the security company. Somebody entered your house through the back door at 1:17.”

“I just lost a GBI tail,” Charles said quietly. “They must be searching my house. It’s too late to burn it down. They’ll read my books, they’ll know what I’ve done.”

“So where are you going?” Paul asked, a thread of panic in his voice.

“Mexico, then back to Southeast Asia. But first, I’m going to the Vartanians’. Bobby is there. I need to be sure neither she nor Susa

“I’ll come with you,” Paul said. Of course, Charles had known he would.

Dutton, Monday, February 5, 1:35 p.m.

Pete closed his phone. “Backup’s coming. Now you need to know what’s in this notebook. You’ll be angry. Just keep your cool, all right?”

“All right,” Luke said carefully. “You said Grant was extorting rich people. Who?”

“Lots of people, but you really want the tale of two judges.”

“Borenson and Vartanian,” Luke said grimly.

“Yep. I found at least fifty of these notebooks in the hidden shelf behind Grant’s closet. They’re alphabetized. He has three V volumes, one for Simon and Arthur, another for Daniel and his mother. Susa

Luke listened, his knuckles gone bone white as he clenched the wheel. Black bile churned within him, fury so intense he shook with it. It was unbelievable. Unforgivable. Inhuman. Susa

“Can we use the books?” Pete asked. “They don’t mention the bunker, but…”

“We have to ask Chloe,” Luke said. Inside he burned. Each breath physically hurt. “Of course, should Charles Grant die in the meantime, it becomes a moot point.”

Pete was quiet for a moment, considering. “So it does. I’ve got your back.”

Luke swallowed hard, moved. “Someday I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”

Pete huffed a mirthless chuckle. “Not in this lifetime, pal. Drive faster.”

Dutton, Monday, February 5, 1:45 p.m.

“None of the Vartanian birthdays I remember are opening this safe,” Susa

“Shut up. Just keep dialing, little sister.”

Susa

Bobby was storing her loot in Grandmother Vartanian’s tall silver teapot, which seemed critically important. Again, Susa

However, Susa

“Then Daniel must have known the combination, which means you should. You seem to have the birthdays all memorized.” Bobby smacked her head with the gun butt again. “And I am your sister, whether you want to admit it or not.”

Susa

So stall. Give him time. “You are not my sister. You are not even my half-sister. We are not related.” And her head flew to one side when Bobby slapped her, hard.

“Is it so damn hard to admit?” Bobby asked, her eyes flashing with anger.

Susa

Bobby blinked at her. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not. I had a paternity test done. Frank Loomis was my father.”

Bobby looked unsure, then threw back her head and laughed. “Sonofabitch. All this time, sweet Suzie Vartanian has been a bastard, too.” She then sobered meanly. “Dial the safe, Suzie, or I go downstairs and blow your friend’s head off her shoulders.”

Susa

Bobby frowned. “Then get up.”

Susa

“Fuck,” she muttered. “We have company. Who is he?”

Susa

“Oh, you’re good,” Bobby said softly. “Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. Luckily Leigh Smithson told me about him, too. That’s Hank Germanio. He’s the impetuous type, a real one-man show. Go.” She pushed her to the top of the stairs. “Call for help.”