“Should the unthinkable happen, Abigail will be proud knowing I died to save the man I love. I will trust you two to raise her well, and someday, you will tell her about this conversation.” Frightened I am losing this argument, I turn to Callie.
“What if it were Lucky accused of murder? What would you do?” While my heart drums in my ears, she and her husband exchange worried glances.
Finally, my boss stands, takes his hand, and sits in his lap. “It comes down to this, will the FBI believe Wulf’s turkey-baster theory?”
“Bloody hell. Not unless he has solid proof.” His admission is the approval I need to proceed.
So, as thunder grumbles in the distance, we call the kids back into the house. I say my goodbyes with their promise to back me up, no matter what.
Now, sitting outside their DC home in the rental car, I take a deep breath. As heavy rain pounds on the windshield, I pick up the burner phone, press the green icon, and bite my lower lip.
I count six rings before Danbury picks up. “So, you ready to trade?”
“Yes. First, I want to see the whole video.” Cloud-to-cloudlightning flashes across the sky, the wind whips up the fir trees over the street. For a moment, I think he may have hung up.
“Okay, check your email, luv.” His message contains nothing but a link, so I click it.
Seconds go by before the .mov file opens. In yellow, low-watt lighting, the fisheye lens picks up three stalls and a baby changing station.
Like before, the look-alikes argue until Brittany gives in. “If you don’t want to do me a favor, forget it.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t.” After Joanne swaps purses with her roommate, she unzips hers and extracts a lipstick tube.
“Is he here?” Leaning over the sink, a white cotton dress halfway up her ass, the victim reapplies bright red coloring.
“I promise, babe. You are going to love my silver fox.” The murderess steps behind the girl and cups her ample breasts.
“Is he built?” Her unsuspecting victim swivels from her grasp, lifts her butt on the counter, and spreads her legs.
As Babcock massages Cormack’s clit, the now-dead woman leans back on her elbows.
A time-traveling voyeur, I hold my breath and wish like hell I could turn away.
“Oh God, do it.” Joanne pants.
Slowly and methodically, Brittany unties her roommate’s silk scarf and then cinches it over her neck.
“Harder.” These are probably the last words this poor, unfortunate girl will utter.
My husband’s ex-partner finger-fucks the woman with one hand and chokes her with the other.
A scream of ecstasy later, Cormack drops to the floor. Kicking out, she claws at her throat, but it’s too late.
Showing no remorse, the killer pulls out a vial, pokes a needle into the top, and draws up the plunger. Next, she kneels beside the body and inserts the liquids into the vagina.
Once the video ends, I open the car door.
As I hurl into the shrubs by the driveway, Danbury’s smug voice returns. “Real enough for you?”
“How do I know you will send it?” I could work for Ledbetter, but never receive proof of my husband’s innocence. Mentally, I move this possibility to the top of my list of risks.
“You’ll simply have to trust me.” He sounds so sure of himself, I want to reach through the airwaves and slap his stupid face.
Instead, I calm my tone, as if speaking to a team of insolent developers. “Let’s discuss this, shall we?”
Chapter 17
“The tiger andthe lion may be the strongest, but you will never see the wolf performing in a circus.” ~Unknown
