Страница 151 из 179
‘No. The smoke will attract attention. Just bury it.’ Ken was glad to see the mattress go. Killing his oldest friend had been far harder than he’d thought it would be, even though Demetrius had betrayed him.
‘Will do.’ Decker started to turn the saw back on, but hesitated. ‘Anything else?’
‘Where are Burton and the Anders girl? I just checked the basement and it’s empty.’
‘I did what you said. They’ve been taken care of.’
‘Already?’
‘Like I said, I like working the woodchipper.’ Decker frowned. ‘Please don’t tell me you changed your mind.’
Ken laughed grimly. ‘No. I thought I’d have a last chat with Miss Anders. She was . . .’
‘A bitch,’ Decker muttered. He turned to show four deep claw marks down his shoulder.
‘Wow. I guess that teaches you to wear a shirt.’
Decker glared. ‘I was wearing a shirt. She grabbed me, up under my sleeve. Those nails of hers were fake. She’d been sharpening them on the concrete foundation of the cage.’
Ken wished he could have seen it. He wished more that he could have gotten to her before Decker had killed her. A good fuck always cleared his head before he went hunting, and thinking of Stephanie Anders clawing at Decker made him even harder than he’d been when he’d gone to the basement looking for her.
‘Make sure your tetanus shots are up to date,’ he said.
‘They are, luckily. Between that bitch and her mother.’
‘Oh, that’s right. Marlene bit you.’
‘Give me a male prisoner any day of the week,’ Decker grumbled, then shook off his bad mood. ‘When I’m done here, I’m going into the office. With Burton and Reuben gone, the work is piling up. You’ll need to hire new security perso
‘Yes, do that,’ Ken said, but he was thinking no so loudly his teeth ached. He was done, his leadership team decimated. Alice incarcerated. And as much as he wanted to believe she’d be stalwart under questioning, he knew she’d give him up in a heartbeat if she thought it was her best option. He’d be out of the country before she decided on that course of action.
He already had a first-class ticket from Toronto to Papeete, Tahiti, leaving tomorrow night. From Papeete he’d take a charter to Bora Bora, where he’d rented a small bungalow. All under the false ID that he had arranged for himself a long time ago – just in case of an emergency such as this. No one knew about it, not even Alice or Sean.
Ken hadn’t yet decided if he’d send for Sean. He’d always had a more hands-off relationship with Sean than he’d had with Alice. Sean had never liked getting his hands dirty. Alice thrived on it. Damn, I miss her already. But he wasn’t willing to trap himself trying to bust her out of jail. She had access to assets. She was a lawyer, for God’s sake. She was better equipped to get herself out of jail than he was.
Decker and the others who were left could do what they pleased. If they wanted to take the contacts Ken and his team had built over the last decade, they were welcome to them. Joel still had the accounting records, after all. Joel might even end up as the leader of the group after Ken was out of the picture. He was welcome to that too. Not that Ken thought Joel would last too much longer. The young pups would either eliminate him or Joel’s heart would simply give out. Either way, Joel was a big boy. He’d have to be fine on his own.
Ken had a singular focus – kill Marcus O’Ba
He’d start hunting at the Ledger’s office. Many of O’Ba
He’d found photos on Demetrius’s iPad of O’Ba
‘Um . . .’ Decker said, and Ken realized he’d been standing there too long. ‘Is there anything else you want me to do?’
‘No, no. The list of potential hires would be fine. I’ll let Sean know to expect you down at the office.’ He gave a last, mournful look at the bedroom, falling back on nostalgia to excuse his wool-gathering. ‘Demetrius and I had a lot of good times over the years. I’ll miss him.’
The look Decker gave him was warily sympathetic. ‘I understand, sir.’
No, you really don’t. ‘Goodnight, Decker. Please lock the front door on your way out.’
Cinci
Wednesday 5 August, 6.00 P.M.
Marcus had been nervous the last time he’d emerged from the elevator into the MCES squad room, but this time he was doubly so. He knew Scarlett wanted him to identify the woman in Interview Room Four as the one who’d participated in the attempt to kill him nine months ago, and he understood how important it was – both to the case and to Scarlett herself.
Trouble was, he didn’t know if he could. He had no compunction fudging a story when the target of their investigation had been guilty of so many, even worse offenses. This woman was definitely a killer – or would have been but for the tip the Feds got from their u
But where his conscience had allowed him to fudge facts in the past, this was different. This was for Scarlett, who looked at him like he could do no wrong.
Isenberg was waiting for them at the elevator. ‘Mr O’Ba
Marcus didn’t miss Scarlett’s minute wince, and once again he found himself biting back the urge to tell Isenberg to fuck herself. Scarlett had enjoyed an informal, friendly relationship with her boss. Until I came along, he thought.
He clenched his teeth and followed the lieutenant to the darkened observation room on the other side of the glass from Interview Room Four. He stepped up to the glass, Scarlett standing at his side, her hands shoved in her pockets. She leaned into him just once, surreptitiously touching his upper arm with her shoulder. Support, he thought.
‘If you’re not sure, it’s okay,’ she murmured, so quietly he almost didn’t hear. But he did hear, and it was like a weight sliding off his shoulders.
There were a few people sitting along the wall behind them, cops and Feds, including Deacon and Agents Coppola and Troy. The three of them came forward, Deacon taking the spot next to Scarlett. Coppola positioned herself next to Marcus, and Troy hovered in the background.
Marcus was relieved to see that Isenberg had disappeared into the shadows in the back of the room. Scarlett had said that her boss was looking out for her career, but he thought the woman could find a better way to do it.
But he wasn’t here for Lieutenant Isenberg. He was here to identify someone who might have tried to kill him if she’d had enough time – the woman on the other side of the glass. I was her next target. The realization left him shaken. And pissed.
‘That is Alice Newman,’ Kate Coppola said. ‘She’s not happy to be here.’
Alice sat turned away from the glass, her face hidden. She was handcuffed to the chair, her back ramrod straight. Her blond hair was cut in a bob that seemed vaguely familiar.
But he hadn’t seen her, had he? He’d only heard her.