He couldn’t be dead. How the hell did I get revenge on a dead man? How did I destroy his world, take every last penny he had, leave him rotting in his own sick stench?
These were the plans I had for both Arthur Landen and Evan Sanderson when I got out. This was the only motivation I had in my life to move forward. To work to contain the anger. To work to ignore the grief.
“You need me like air.”
Her words floated through my brain, and she wasn’t wrong. I had needed her more than I ever understood. More than I had ever admitted to her. Which meant her loss left this cavernous hole inside my soul. A hole I filled with plans of revenge.
“Guess he thought drinking himself to death was taking too long. His clients never did buy the excuses he made about the missing twenty million dollars. They all cashed out, and to make them whole he lost most of his personal wealth. What remained, he left to your uncle. I’m sure your uncle will tell you the next time he visits. But I came here today to let you know your debt to me is paid.”
I shook my head slowly. “I’m not finished.”
“Landen is dead. So I’m finished.”
“Evan Sanderson pulled his strings. Whatever Landen was doing, it was at his bidding.”
Benfield leaned back in his chair.
“You want some advice, Marc?”
I clenched my jaw. “Not particularly.”
“Let it go. Sanderson is a grieving widower running for the U.S. Senate. You’re not going to be able to touch him. Even if you could, it’s not going to bring her back.”
“Evan Sanderson killed his wife and he’s going to pay for it.”
“Evan Sanderson was at an event in New York the night she died. Thousands of witnesses put him there.”
“He paid someone. There’s a money trail. I’ll find it.”
“Why?” Benfield asked. “Why marry the girl only to kill her?”
“You’re not asking the right question,” I told him. “The why is easy. She knew something. Something he didn’t want her to know.”
“What question should I be asking?”
“Why did he do it like that? So the body wouldn’t be found? Ash…” I had to stop myself. It was the first time in months since I’d said her name. When George visited, I’d told him we couldn’t talk about her. I wouldn’t talk about her. It hurt too much. Now her name sounded rusty in my throat and I didn’t like that. Didn’t like that she’d been relegated to the past. It felt like losing her all over again.
I swallowed. “She had asthma. He once told me how convenient that was for him if he ever needed to get rid of her. So why take her out the way he did? Why hide the body?”
“You’re never going to get those answers. Evenifthey’re out there to find. You have no money, no resources, no connections to his world that might help you. You’ve got a brain and an excellent work ethic. Use those tools to start your life over again. Leave the past behind you.”
I looked him in the eye so he could see everything I felt. “I can’t.”
His expression was grim. “I’m afraid for you, Marc. I also regret I’m responsible for putting you on this path. I wanted to expose Landen for the fraud he was. I never meant for anyone to get hurt.”
“You’re not responsible for what Sanderson did to Ash. That’s on Landen. He’s gone now, so I can’t destroy him. Fine. I’ll stick to the man who killed her.”
“You’ll be out soon enough. Do you need—”
“Nothing,” I cut him off. “I don’t need anything.”
Benfield stood then, and offered his hand. I stood, and shook it. “Good luck with your life, Marc.”
I nodded.
My life. It sounded so fucking long. Maybe when all this was over, I would do what Landen did. End it. Embrace the oblivion. The absence of pain might be worth it. But there was work to be done first.
Tasks that needed to be completed.
