“How long have you been taking care of her?” He hadn’t meant to ask that question. He’d intended to shift the conversation back to Wainwright and Dane. But sitting here in the dark with her, her fear and desperation palpable, he couldn’t not ask. The dim lighting from the dash allowed him to see more than he needed to see of her pain.
She stared off into that darkness that enveloped them like a blanket. “Since we were kids.”
“I’m sure it’s been difficult.” Dammit. He had to get back on track ... but then maybe he could use this moment to get what he needed. He rolled that idea over. Catching Annette Baxter in a vulnerable place had so far been impossible. He had the perfect opportunity now.
Dear God.
Was he really that desperate?
Yes.
“Sometimes it’s hard,” she murmured, almost to herself, “sometimes it’s harder. But it’s what I have to do.”
He rested his head against the seat. He understood that all too well. Memories of dozens of incidents with his uncle invaded.Don’t get distracted. Focus.“I need answers. Or things are going to get a hell of a lot harder for both of us.” He squashed the persistent sympathy.
She glanced at him, allowed him to see the full depth of the desperation in her eyes. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to give you, Mr. Hotshot DDA.”
Anticipation had him sitting up straighter. Now maybe they were going to get somewhere that would make a difference. He studied her profile, noted the rigid set of those delicate muscles. “What’s that?”
She glanced at him again. “Everything you need to nail those bastards.” Her full attention returned to the street. “Every damned one of them.”
34
8:30 a.m.
Birmingham
The Tramont
Annette dropped her keys and purse on the table as she passed through her entry hall but didn’t slow her pace until she’d reached the gallery. Her favorite room. She surveyed the elegant pieces of sculpture and the edgy contemporary works of art. This was her trophy room. The room that said she had reached that prestigious place she had fought tooth and nail to attain.
Under normal circumstances she felt safe here. Calm. But not today.
The emotions roiling inside her wouldn’t slow down, wouldn’t allow her to think logically.
Fury whipped, stinging, raging, joining the frenzy. There was absolutely no question now. Someone knew about Paula. Annette had to protect her. Even if it meant throwing away everything she had achieved. Even if it meant taking her sister and running.
She had money tucked away for emergencies. Not as much as she would like, but it would just have to be enough. On the drive back from the center she’d made up her mind. She would give Carson Tanner everything he needed to make them all pay. And then she and Paula would disappear.
It was the only way.
Annette was out of options. It was only a matter of time before Drake’s murder, as well as Zac Holderfield’s, was blamed on her. She understood this with complete certainty.
Carson deserved to know the truth. He would just have to deal with taking down the men he’d thought were his friends. He needed to know they would sacrifice him in a heartbeat. Coping with the knowledge was his problem, not hers.
And for some completely foolish reason, she wanted him to have closure. She wanted him to win.
She turned to face the man who lingered near the door. “Where do you want me to begin?”
His gaze held hers, and she didn’t miss the tiniest hint of vulnerability there.
She couldn’t say when she’d decided to think of him by his first name. Not something she did on a routine basis. Too familiar. Nor had she consciously made the decision to give him the answers he so wanted at any particular point before now. But after seeing Paula, helpless and innocent, tortured, Annette understood that the decision was made. This had to be done.
The game was over.
“The beginning is usually the best place.” He strode to the sleek white sofa and settled there, his attention fixed fully on her. He looked tired. Tired and damaged. Just as she was damaged. Funny, he had no idea how much they had in common.
The beginning. Wow. That was a place she didn’t visit often. Too painful. Too scary. She almost laughed at herself. She was thirty years old; how could the past still frighten her? Maybe because she knew the only difference between being there and being here was money.
