Would the truth deter him from killing her? “Too many people to mention, including the police.”
“You’ve spoiled everything.”
“You tried to steal what wasn’t yours.”
“The mining company had to have both properties, especially the park. The rare earth elements are richest in that bare field. The park isn’t really using it, and it’s crazy how much I can get for it.”
Both properties.Paradise had a sudden flash of something Abby had said about being worried her dad was thinking about selling the ranch. Nausea roiled in her midsection. Dean didn’t have to tell her—the truth had been waiting to erupt. “Roger Dillard owns the other property, doesn’t he?”
“How’d you know?”
She wished she could see his face. “Abby said she thought he was thinking of selling the ranch, but that didn’t make sense until now. How is he involved with taking The Sanctuary’s property?”
“You remember that PI who pretended to be a TGU student? She was scouting for rare earth elements after some were found in an oil well Roger owns, so she expanded her search. Gas and oil deposits were found, but that’s minor compared to the REE discovery.”
Paradise frowned. “The park is small potatoes compared to the three thousand acres Roger owns.”
“The best access is through the park’s land. And like I said, that bare field is a gold mine of REE.”
It would be useless to remind him he faced the death penalty. He’d already killed his aunt and one more wouldn’t make a difference to his sentence. When he yanked her up, she had to grab her gun and end this.
“What are you going to do with me?”
“There’s a gator family that lives through these cypress trees. They’ll find you a tasty meal, and no one will find the body. Even if the law arrests me for forgery, that’s not a big deal. There’s nothing to connect me to your disappearance. With you dead, no one will know what happened to Aunt Mary. A robber could have attacked her.”
She had to get that gun out somehow.
Chapter 42
Blake had called Roger and asked for help and his neighbor showed up with his airboat behind his truck. The locator app showed Paradise in the Mobile-Tensaw River Delta: 260,000 acres of wetlands and swamps to hide the body. He could only pray she was still alive. And that her phone stayed connected.
The sounds of birds and insects echoed from the cypress and tupelo trees as they navigated a tributary past blue herons and cranes. An Alabama red-bellied turtle snoozed in the sun on a rock as they passed, and frogs croaked from the seagrass as it brushed the sides of the boat. Blake moved restlessly, frustrated by the snail’s pace at which they slid through the turgid water. The odor of mud and decaying vegetation mingled with that of salt and sulphur.
He waved away the gnats and mosquitoes buzzing around his head and studied the map on his phone. So many branches of waterways and creeks. Which way had they gone to get where the dot moved slowly along? The myriad possible paths were daunting.
They came to the end of the tributary with no clear path forward. Roger killed the fan. “We’re at the end of the road.”
“There was another creek that branched off about a quarter of a mile back. Let’s try that one.” He waited for Roger to start the motor again, but the boat drifted sluggishly in the muddy water. When he turned around to face Roger again, he found his neighbor studying him with hard gray eyes.
Blake’s gaze dropped to the gun in Roger’s hand and froze. “You see a gator?” Stupid question. The gun pointed unwaveringly at Blake, not at something in the water.
“I’m sorry about this,” Roger said. “I’ve always liked you and appreciated having you as a neighbor, but I’m in a tight corner without any other way out.” He gestured with the gun. “Drop your gun overboard. I don’t have a lot of time, so don’t make me tell you twice. Hold it upside down with your thumb and forefinger.”
Blake saw Roger’s finger twitch on the trigger. His neighbor was a crack shot. Blake pulled his SIG Sauer from the leather holster strapped to his waist. He slid toward the side of the boat with his hand extended and the gun dangling from it. Did he have time to get his fingers around the butt of the gun and aim it? Eyeing his neighbor, he didn’t think so.
He let go of the gun and watched it splash into the black water. A gator, eyes just above the water, propelled itself in their direction at the sound. Was that the plan—shoot him and toss him overboard?
“Who has Paradise?”
“Dean. I regret her death even more than yours. Sweet kid I’ve known most of her life. Sometimes you have to do hard things.”
“Is this about the rare earth elements? You don’t have to do this if you think we’re going to sell The Sanctuary. No amount of money would make us let go of it.”
“I was sure your mom would refuse to sell, and when all the scare tactics didn’t work, I realized the deal was in jeopardy. ThenParadise discovered that Dean killed Mary, and I knew I had to make a move.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Blake searched for a possible weapon. A red-and-white cooler held water and food Roger had brought. A black thermos rolling next to the hull on Blake’s left would do if he could get to it in time. Roger would probably shoot the second he reached for it, but he could wait for a diversion or the right moment.
If he could keep Roger talking, maybe Blake could get him to reconsider, but every second that ticked by meant Paradise was out there somewhere facing Dean on her own. He didn’t have much time to subdue Roger and try to find her.
