Hugh's car was pulling out by the time Noah reached the lot. A dark sedan moved slowly through the chaos of vehicles trying to leave at once.
Noah watched it go. He stood in the parking lot with his hands at his sides and the sirens building behind him.
He replayed the shot in his head. The angle. The distance. The placement on the wall. It should have hit the target.
Hugh hadn't been missed. He had been spared by something smaller than intention. A shift. A movement. A fraction of a second.
Luck?
Noah looked toward the road where his father's car had disappeared.
Luck didn't hold.
He hurried toward his Bronco and started moving.
31
Hugh's house was dark.
Noah pulled into the driveway and knew before he killed the engine that he wasn’t there. There was no car parked outside. No lights on. The lake behind the house was serene in the afternoon light. Everything looked the way it always did. Except for what was missing.
He got out and walked to the door just to be sure. He knocked. Waited. Nothing. He tried the handle. It was locked.
He went around the side of the house and looked through the kitchen window. The oak table where he had confronted his father with the Parabon report was empty. There was a single coffee cup on the counter. Chairs were pushed in. The house had the stillness of a place that had been left in a hurry by someone who didn't plan on being gone long.
Noah pulled out his phone and called Hugh.
It rang four times. He was about to hang up when the line connected.
"Noah." Hugh's voice was steady. He was driving.
"Where are you?"
"On my way to see Luther."
Noah's hand tightened on the phone. "Don't go there. Listen to me."
"I've listened long enough. That shot today was meant for me. I know that. You know that. And I know who's behind it."
"You don't."
"Luther has been pulling strings in this town for twenty years. He's got people in his pocket. He's got dirt on half the county. And now he's trying to clean up loose ends before his campaign goes any further. And I’m part of that.” Hugh's voice was steady but there was something underneath it. Not fear but resolution. "I'm going to have the conversation we should have had years ago."
"Dad, the shooter is not Luther."
"I didn't say Luther pulled the trigger. I said he's behind it."
"The shooter is Liam Hale."
Silence on the line. Not processing. Not shock. The silence of a name that meant something but hadn’t yet been connected to the thing that mattered.
"Rebecca's boy," Hugh said.
"Yeah."
Another silence. Longer. Noah could hear the engine. The road noise. "That doesn't change where I'm headed," Hugh said.
"It changes everything. Liam took that shot at you today. Not Luther. He’s not someone Luther hired. He's been killing the people who failed the Hale investigation and you're next on his list."
