“What the hell happened today?” he barked into the phone the moment someone answered.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t—”
“Have this under control at all,” he finished for the other person.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen. Somebody messed up.”
“What’s with all this outsourcing, anyway? That got us in trouble in the first place.”
“Outsourcing?” The other person’s voice came out as a squeak. “Um, that was your—”
At least the idiot gathered enough sense to stop there and not say it was his idea. He wouldn’t be taking the blame for any of this. “All I know is I had to clean it up.”
For a few seconds, the line was quiet.
“Really, I’m—”
“I don’t want your apologies. There were supposed to be no connections. No one was supposed to getcaught.”
“And no one will. Everything will be fine. Don’t worry.”
“Oh, I’m beyond worried. Fix it. Now. Before it’s too late.” After clicking off the phone, he threw it back on the seat.
He hated working with amateurs. Already today he’d been forced to help unload an SUV for someone who couldn’t get through his pea-sized brain that intimidation didn’t have to be up close and personal. They’d be lucky if the Hoffman girl didn’t go right to the police if she thought she could trust them. This time the wrong few might believe her.
He still held out hope that she could be sidelined without any less palatable measures. Like her brother. Riley had a weakness. People with those were easier to manipulate. Rachel had two tiny, dark-headed liabilities herself. They could leverage those, and if the new guy turned out to be married, they would have more. She needed to learn the hard way that people living in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.
Just as the dashboard lights went dark, he turned the ignition again, this time his chapped lip splitting with his smile. He dabbed at the blood with his glove, not even minding the sting.
Though he’d never been one prone to sentimentalities, he’d seen proof that fear of losing a loved one could be a great motivator to encourage silence. If the Hoffman girl didn’t fall in line, then he would do what had to be done. It wouldn’t be the first time. Or the last.
As for working with the imbeciles surrounding him, he just might have to adjust his plans, no matter how much he preferred an administrative role. What had he been thinking, leaving the details to someone else, anyway? That old proverb remained relevant for a reason.
If you want something done right, do it yourself.
* * *
Mick took a deep breath as he entered the building housing Mount Isabel’s downtown offices on Friday morning. He’d been called on the carpet for his behavior before, mostly in high school, but he might have set a record for it this time. He stepped to the door with the nameplate that said, “Kenny Davison, Village Manager,” and knocked.
“Come in,” a familiar-sounding voice said from the other side.
A middle-aged man with a bad comb-over sat behind the desk. Though the manager looked up at him, he didn’t stand.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Davison.” He stepped forward and extended his hand. “In person this time.”
After an awkward delay, Davison stood, dispensed with the formalities and sat again. He gestured for Mick to take the seat across from him. Apparently, he still had a few minutes before getting fired from the position he’d held for four days.
* * *
Davison looked older than he had during their too-brief video interview. Thinner, too. But the past few months must have been difficult for all the town’s leaders. They’d also been busy. At least that was what Mick told himself when he’d stopped by the office earlier in the week to complete the last of his employment paperwork and met only with the manager’s administrative assistant, Shirley. Now he knew that Davison had time for what he thought was important.
“I suppose you know why you’re here.” He planted his hands on the edge of his desk as though he intended to stand again but didn’t.
“I’m guessing it was about the incident that took place Monday.”
“Not the incident. Yourresponseto it.”
“My response? I wasn’t at Station 1 when we received the call. I didn’t start until—”
