I hear a floorboard creak in the hallway, a soft thump, then a muffled voice—ex-wife, maybe on the phone, maybe talking to herself.
“Maren,” I call out, loud enough to carry but not so loud it draws attention from outside. “I need your help.”
She appears in the doorway, mascara slightly askew, a weird calm on her face. She’s not surprised by this, she’s always known. She doesn't flinch at the blood, doesn't ask if Mark is dead. Instead, she sighs.
“She’s not taking it well.”
I wince, shaking my head. “Then you stay with her. She didn’t do anything wrong. Make sure she knows that he’s fine. He at most had a minor concussion.”
Her expression hardens. “But we’re not going to leave it at that, are we?”
“I can’t. I can’t risk it.”
“They’ll just keep sending more,” Maren’s voice is blank. “Though, I won’t let them get this close. This was on me. I should’ve vetted him better.”
“You shouldn’t have to do that.”
She nods, and then disappears back to comfort our daughter. I hear her voice through the wall. It’s the same tone she’s always used with Molly when she’s upset.
I turn to Jenna. “We’re going to move him,” I instruct. “But first, I need to check something.”
She just nods.
I prop Mark up, reach into his jacket, and pat him down. He's got a phone, a wallet, and a badge. NCIS. I show it to Jenna, just to watch her reaction. She doesn't blink. She already knew. She’d already been here and gone through his things.
I slide the phone open, thumbprint. There's a message thread at the top.
Control: Update on Kellan?
Mark: None. But getting close.
I put the phone and badge back into his jacket pocket. “He wasn’t as close as you thought he was. My guess is that he was still just digging.” I pause, and then nod toward the office. “Go through the rest of his stuff. Make sure nothing else is going to point to us.”
She takes a deep breath, and the does exactly as I ask her to.
I look around. There's blood on the table leg, on the carpet, on the tile. Some is still wet. I start with the bleach wipes, working the blood from the grain. I think about how easy it is,how practiced, how it feels less like hiding a crime and more just like another day.
Jenna comes back with Mark's keys, a receipt, and a folded piece of paper. “There’s not much. Mostly surveillance. I left the photos. None were incriminating.”
“Then all the more reason for him to take a drive to the farm in the middle of the night,” I say. “He left here, wasn’t paying attention. Lost control, head trauma. No witnesses. No foul play.”
Jenna frowns. “What about Molly? She’s never had to do something like this…”
I shake my head. “She never saw him. She was in her room. You and Maren were in the kitchen. I was in the garage. No one heard anything. I was upset with you, because you lied to me about who you are, so I made you come here to tell the truth.”
She looks at me like she wants to argue, but instead just sighs.
“You got a better plan?”
“No,” she nearly whispers. “But they’re going to keep looking for Cade, Cal. They’re not going to stop.”
“I know, but that won’t be a problem when he’s not here.” I don’t expand on that, but I do know that I won’t feel a fucking ounce of sympathy when I pull that trigger. Not after the purple necklace he gave her.
She might be his sister, but from the moment I fucked her in that parking lot, she became mine. No matter who the fuck she really is.
I stand, wipe my hands, look at Mark. He stirs, just as there’s a sharp knock on the front door. I head for it, ignoring the look on Jenna’s face. I pull the door open, and in walks Turner, looking exhausted and confused.
“I can’t find him,” he mutters, running a hand over his face. “He was close?—”
