The past that haunted Carson Tanner was behind him now. He could focus on the future and stop rehashing old details.
If he would. Don had to see to it that he did. Some things were better left in the past. He’d groomed Carson to replace him in the position of Jefferson County District Attorney. Don owed Carson’s father that much. Don blinked, forced those painful memories away.
The past wasn’t the point. Carson was by far the best man for the job ... if that damned past didn’t get in his way.
Don didn’t have to worry. Carson would not let him down.
He could count on that. Everything was finally falling into place. Nothing was going to get in the way of his bid for the governorship.
His cell phone rang, the sound mocking, as if to refute his closing argument.
His wife would call it intuition; he simply called it waning odds. Things had gone far too smoothly for far too long for his luck to continue.
His instincts hummed with dread as he accepted the call. “Wainwright.”
“The situation we anticipated has been set in motion.”
Don’s insides cramped. That was not what he’d wanted to hear. There had to be some mistake. Even so, surely it wasn’t too late to salvage the situation. Not like last time. “I could—”
“You understand what has to be done. An accident would be preferable, of course.”
Don sat immobilized for five seconds before he dredged up the necessary response to the irrevocable order. Desperation screamed at him to challenge the verdict. But he knew. Once the decision was made, there was no stopping the momentum.
He cleared his throat. “I understand.”
The call ended.
There was nothing he could do now.
It was done.
6
Wednesday, September 8, 8:00 a.m.
There was something he needed to do.
Carson slowly opened his eyes.
Sunlight filled the room.
He groaned. Closed his eyes against the brightness. Why had he left the blinds open?
He started to get up, but something stopped him. Something sweet. He inhaled deeply and tried to identify the scent.
Flowers . . . female.
He scratched his balls through the sheet.
Images filtered into his groggy consciousness. Sleek blond hair. Long, toned legs. Lush pink lips.
Sex.
The woman from the bar.
He bolted upright and looked around.
The Tutwiler.
