They had spoken with Grundenman before, but the man had been unable to hold too long a conversation, considering thedamage the two bullets had done. Dom suspected the attorney was going to keep him quiet, as well.
This was just another move in the game they were all playing, after all. “Tell me, Trey. What will these mendoif they find your father before I do? I understand he has Leena with him now. Do you think the people who wouldpayfor Tuell to be…shut up and everything…what do you think they’ll do with your old man, and that precious little girl?”
The man paled. Yes, he was afraid. For himself…and for his father. Dom had listened to the recordings. Trey Grundenman had tried to tell his father to get out of there. The elder Grundenman hadn’t listened. But maybe…Trey did care about his father, at least? “How do we find him? Where will your father go, Trey? Becauseweneed to find him first. It’s probably the only chance he has.”
“Yeah, who’s looking for him, really? Rodriguez? Somehow I don’t see that being such a good thing for my father. I am not telling you anything. I’d be dead if I did, and we both know it.”
He looked at his attorney. “Get him out of here. I’m done. I’m not saying another word.”
Dom just stood. He’d won this round and he knew it. He hadn’t gotten much to go on, but he knew one thing—someone else had been pulling strings connected to Trey Grundenman and his little pals. Theyweren’tthe men in charge. Probably never had been.
That meant the ones who had orchestrated all of this bullshit were still out there somewhere.
Dom just had to keep looking.
“Hey, Acardi. Do me a favor, will you?”
Dom turned back. “What?”
“Tell thefamilyI said hello, will you? Wish Auntie Heather and the rest my very best.”
Dom ignored the finger gesture the man shot at him. “Hell, Trey, we both know the truth—there are farbetterthan you will ever be. Remember that.”
“No shit. My sisters save lives, but me…well…guess every family has the one black sheep that got away, huh? Guess I just never measured up to good old Grandpappy Coleson. We all can’t be perfect, can we?”
35
K.J. had managedto shake Detective Trace again easily enough before her shift ended at ten. There were half a dozen road officers in the break room that he had seemed to befriendlywith. K.J. had made a note of every single one.
There were traitors in the Finley Creek TSP after all.
She headed over to County Gen.
Brett…was her best friend in Finley Creek. Like…her brother had once been. Before he had been killed eight years ago in a boating accident along the Galveston coast. They looked out for each other, she and Brett Naylor. And though he was a total player—Brett really liked women, that man—he had never once hit on her. Not like her last partner had repeatedly. Brett still teased her about that. There would never be that kind of relationship between her and Brett, K.J. knew that down to her soul.
He was her best friend. It hurt to see him hurting.
It hurt, what had happened to him. And why. So much.
K.J. visited him every chance she could. Most of the time she just sat next to his bed and read on her phone. Sometimes, he was awake when she made it in. Then she just distracted andentertained him, though he was not ever fullyawarewhen he was awake.
Today he was sleeping. The room was dim, the curtains were nearly pulled shut. She doubted anyone would even know she was there.
She slipped in quietly, and took the chair by the window. It was reasonably quiet, dim, and she just needed to think.
K.J. was still sitting there, almost in the dark, fifteen minutes later.
When the door she’d left ajar just a few inches slipped open, she expected to see a nurse, or someone who had business being in there.
But the man in the nondescript work clothes definitely didn’t belong. She knew it instinctively.
That was when she saw the knife in his hand. That he held in a way that shouted expert.
K.J. didn’t hesitate. She pulled her weapon. “Police! Drop the knife! Hands on your head! Do it now!”
Of course he didn’t comply.
He took off with a curse, into the hall.
