“Hmm, good question. Whynotgo to the police? I’m gonna go with: because I have to assume that you’ve still got someone over there on your payroll. There are big, blue fingerprints all over this cover-up. Plus, ugh, we’ll end up in court and it’ll be ugly and I really don’t want to do that to the murder victim’s—oops sorry, vehicular manslaughter victim’s long-suffering family.”
“What do you want.” His father’s voice was flat.
“There’sthe question of the hour,” Mick said, slow clapping. “That’s the one I’ve been waiting for.” He leaned in. “You are gonna gift me five million dollars.”
His father choked. “Fivemillion...?”
“Yup,” Mick said. “The one point five from my original trust, with another one point five for, well, let’s call ittime served.” That seemed fair, didn’t it,Dad? “Plus another two million that I’m going to give to the dead woman’s daughter.”
His father laughed bitterly at that. “And you don’t think they’ll come back, in a few months, for even more?”
“I sincerely hope they do,” Mick said. “I hope they get their heads out of their asses and take every penny you’ve ever earned, and this entire goddamned estate, to boot. But no, sadly I don’t think they will, so lucky for you. You got off easy.”
“Five million is your idea of easy...?” the old man scoffed.
“Four. Years,” Mick said, slowly, carefully, so as not to be misunderstood. “Inprison. You’d get way more than that. The question you have to ask yourself is: Do you really want to risk it?”
His father was silent again, just gazing at him across that wide expanse of cluttered desk. “That’s why I did it,” he finally said. “I knew you’d get less time. I worked to get you out early?—”
Mick was on his feet. “Fuck!” he said, losing it for the very first time since he’d come in and sat down. “You!” But he caught himself because violence would not get him what he wanted—both money and to be gone. Forever. To walk out the door of this mausoleum and never,evercome back. So he sat back down. Made himself laugh a little, buying himself the time he needed for his blood pressure to go back down sohe could say, “A confession! Goodness! I wasn’t expectingthat!”
He’d won. Sort of. He still had to figure out a way to get Emily’s share of this blood money into FrankI’ll-kill-you-if-you-come-back-hereSantana’s giant and seemingly capable of throat-throttling hands.
But there was still a bit of fine print that he needed to spew at his father before he left the room.
Things likeFYI, my lawyer will release the evidence to every and all news outlets should I vanish from the face of the earth so don’t try to have me killed.
AndDid I say five million? Well, I meant five million plus whatever gift taxes you’ll need to pay. I’m gonna let you and your lawyers take care of that.
AndI’ll need the money in two separate cashier’s checks by noon today, so tick-tock.
It worked.
At 12:02 PM, Mick walked out of Devonshire Place for the very last time, with the money in his hands.
“Phew, it’s like the Hunger Games in there,” Emily said now, her eyes sparkling as she set down two hot-cups of coffee and a plate with a pair of freshly baked donuts onto the table in front of him. “But I made it out alive.”
Mick took a bite of his donut. It was not normally what he’d eat after a run, but clearly, all these years, he’d been dead wrong, because damn, it was delicious.
“It’s always good,” he told her, this woman he loved so desperately, as she smiled her delight at him, “to make it out alive.” His phone swooshed then with an incoming text and he glanced at it, hoping... Yes! “The car’s ready. They didn’t think they could get it back to me until Monday, but someone must’ve canceled. How about I walk you back to the hotel, then go over and pick it up while you’re in the shower?”
“I was thinking bathing suit, pool,thenshower,” Emily said. “And not just shower, butshower.”
Mick looked up from his phone to find her grinning at him as she sipped her coffee.Shower, as in not one at a time.
“Yes,” he said. “To all of that. Your plan ismuchbetter than mine. You’re brilliant, I love you madly.” He did a quick google search for the car shop and... “They’re open until six. I’ll get the car later.”
When he looked back up at Emily, her smile and eyes had softened, and she said, “I love you madly, too.”
Woodland Hills, California
The home of Mick O’Rourke, AKA the convicted felon formerly known as Milt Devonshire Junior, had had its front door kicked in, in a manner very similar to Emily Johnson’s.
Like at Emily’s, the power had been cut, but Mick’s house didn’t have an alarm system—not even a video doorbell or a security cam in the living room.
It made sense that someone who’d been the subject of leaked security footage might never again want to live under the gaze of a camera’s lens.
As Sam looked around, Jules charmed the police detectives who’d been waiting for them at the scene—the report of the break-in had come across the ever-vigilant Lindsey’s desk down at TS HQ in San Diego, and she’d not only passed the info along to Jules, but had pulled the right strings with the locals at the LAPD to get Sam and Jules onto the crime scene. And because Lindsey was very good at her job, she’d also made sure there were uniforms on the scene, out on the street,watching for any suspiciously behaving black Ford Expedition SUVs.
