“You think this goes all the way back to the Scotts?”
“Probably.Everythingis connected. It has to be. I fully think Jarrod was right. I think there has been bad stuff going on in Finley Creek and surrounding areas for years.” Madison pulled out another list. The one she had been working on in her spare time. “And…these names. I think they just came up against something they couldn’t fight against.”
She handed the list over. “Look. Every year for thirty-five years,copsaround here have gone missing. Most were found dead—and half of those were called accidents. But…they are freak accidents, Dom. Things like that just don’t really happen like that. And if the cops are disappearing—who else is? Kimball made it very clear stuff was happening around here—long before Hope was even born. I assume me, too, but I am five years older than she is, so…possibly not?”
She laid out the paperwork she’d thought was the most significant for him to look at. He had that particular expressionon his face. She privately thought of it as his bulldog face. He only made that face when he was about to dig in to something and not come up for air until he had defeated it.
“You’ve been digging into this for a while.”
“Yes. Since…the Scott case. Right…after the shooting. Someone had paid them and I—I had to do something.” She’d lain in the hospital room, a bullet hole in her back, and thought about who would have hurt them and why. She’d been working on finding those answers ever since.
They knew the main ones, but…one man was still out there. “What if the final shooter is connected to Trey Grundenman, too? What if it was him?”
“That is something I’m going to find out, sweetheart. You have my word.”
Then he was pulling her close, and she was about to do the stupidest thing of her life by kissing him.
His phone rang.
He jerked back and answered.
Madison did the smart thing. She retreated.
“I’ll be right there.” He stood, and cursed. Madison practically jumped as she looked at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“That was the ME. I need to go…help identify a DB.” He just looked at her. Madison suspected she knew what was happening next. “You are coming with me. I’m not letting you out of my sight. Not now.”
“Who?”
55
He had lostcount of those whom he had ordered eliminated through the years. The first few years, when he was building hisbusiness,he had handled all of it himself.
The dirty work.
It had resulted in an excellent private income. Eventually the wealth from that income had been too much for him to hide, and with a bit of bribery to the ones in Wichita Falls who had actually cared about that kind of thing, he had passed it off as strategic investments with his wife’s inheritance. Everyone knew she had come from some means—he would never forget the jokes at his expense about him marryingupback then. He had exaggerated the size of those means, to cover his own activities until he hadn’t needed to any longer.
The taunting had angered him, of course. He was the provider in the family, and when his wife’s family money had taken a downturn in the housing crisis so many years ago, that had cemented his role as the earner. She had learned quickly not to question where the money to support her lifestyle had come from. And eventually, it had formed a beautiful life for them both. And their son.
Until his wife’s death.
After that, there was no hiding anything. His strategic moves with life insurance policies and his wife’s remaining inheritance that had passed to their son—he had used his own particular skills and network to triple the two million she had left behind. And he had doubled that again in the last decade.
His son hadn’t even needed to work. Especially a blue-collar role like what his father had started out with. He should have retired from the TSP years ago, kept his son far away from it, but he had liked the connections it had provided. And he had enjoyed having a force of his own to command. Off the books. He had built his own little nest of employees within the TSP statewide.
It had taken him over two decades to accomplish. He hadn’t been ready to give that up, even for more recognition within the hierarchy at the TSP.
He rather likednotbeing in the limelight, honestly. It allowed for far more freedom.
He had worked low level TSP positions as a favor to friends in Wichita Falls. Those friends were obsessed with what happened in the Finley Creek region. He understood why. Millions of dollars were at stake, after all. And a legacy.
Now his own legacy was tainted. For his son. And definitely for Riely. He needed to fix that, clean it up. He was not getting any younger, as the saying went. He was sixty-seven. His own son had been born when he was twenty-five. He had planned on retiring at sixty-seven, but with what had happened with his son—maybe now it was time to consider it. He had enough connections to take his organization off the TSP now. And he had enough connections within the TSP to operate without detection. He had had contingency plans in place for years, for this very kind of thing.
There were just a few more names on his list that had to be eliminated now. To ensureno oneknew where to look. Because he wasn’t a fool—there were always paper trails. No matter how someone tried to hide them.
Someone…could always find something.
