Looking at Silas, I ask, “Did Dad have him killed?”
Silas shakes his head. “He wouldn’t have done that before we had possession of those files. Before he was sure Ben didn’t have a copy stashed somewhere.”
It’s a cold answer, especially since it’s about my husband.
“So who killed him?”
He shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t know. Foster wasn’t just confessing his sins, he was outing anyone who helped him, because he’s definitely had help over the years. Maybe whoever helped Foster got wind of what Ben was up to that day. Was worried about how he’d use that information against them. Or there’s a chance it wasn’t about this at all. Maybe itwassomething to do with one of his cases. Maybe he was messing around with someone else and their husband found out. Hell, Camille, I really don’t know.”
Shivers roll through me as I consider his words. We’re back in Corbeau, headed to Foster’s. The closer we get to his house, the more my thoughts switch from what happened to Ben to what we’re about to do.
“We’re just going to pull into the driveway and walk inside?” I ask.
“I offered to take you back to Dad’s.”
“And I told you I’m seeing this through.”
Silas is trying to act like this isn’t affecting him but from that white-knuckle grip he has on the steering wheel, I know it’s taking a lot to hold himself together.
He nods to the back seat. “That’s what the gift basket is for. We’llleave it on the doormat so if someone says they saw your car here, Mrs. Foster will think we were just dropping this off.”
I pick at my nails, which are already destroyed. “But she’ll know we were here.”
He nods. “That’s the point. You don’t try to hide it, you embrace it. Answer the question before they can ask it.”
“Something is wrong with you that your mind works like that.”
He chuckles but it sounds sad. “Dad’s had a long time to groom me.”
Silas pulls over at a gas station not far from Foster’s house. “Why are we stopping here?” I ask.
He pulls his phone out. “Just making sure Mrs. Foster is at the ceremony in town.” He sends a text then we wait a few minutes until we get a response. “We’re good to go.”
My heart is racing when we pull into the driveway. The Fosters’ house is just out of the city limits on a small plot of land, so at least the neighbors aren’t on top of one another. It’s a modest house considering how much money he’s had to have made doing all Dad’s dirty work over the years.
Silas parks and says, “Grab the basket.”
I do what he says and follow him to the carport door. “How are we getting in?”
“Foster kept a key on a hook in the storage closet.”
Silas opens the closet door in the carport and a few seconds later he’s got a house key in his hand.
“Not very smart for a cop,” I mutter.
“It’s Corbeau and everyone knew who he was connected to. No one was breaking into his house.”
“Except you.”
He raises one eyebrow. “Yeah, except me.”
I set the gift basket and card down on the mat in front of the door then follow Silas inside. It feels so wrong walking through the house, knowing his widow will come back and hopefully have no idea we were here. We only have to look into a few rooms before we find the safe. It’s huge. So much bigger than I’d thought it would be.
“It’s almost as tall as I am.” The gun safe looms in the corner of a small office next to a recliner that looks at least twenty years old.
“Well, yeah, it’s made to hold half a dozen hunting rifles.”
Dad has a whole room that is reinforced for stuff like this, so I’ve never seen this kind of safe. It feels like I’m walking up to a bomb that needs to be defused.
