“I own your ass. And it’s for sale. You be prepared to pay the price and life will be good again.”
Dead air rang in Edward’s ear. He stared at the phone. He didn’t have to wonder who the caller was.
He now knew.
As an educated professor of mathematics, he knew something else: that for every equation there was a solution. Sometimes the equations were complicated, sometimes simple. But always utterly solvable.
Chapter Twenty-One
9:30 p.m.
Carter Cost sat in the darkness of his BMW. He’d been watching CJ since they left the restaurant. She’d driven straight to the shack her crazy sister had called home. Once inside, she had turned on all the lights. Then she’d walked to the neighbors and borrowed what appeared to be a hammer. After that, she’d lurked around in the garage using a flashlight. Eventually she’d emerged with an armload of boards or something along those lines and gone back into the house.
For the next half hour he’d heard banging.
What the hell was she doing?
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
The better question was, what was he going to do?
She knew.
Fear crept up his spine, took root at the base of his skull.
With Shelley dead, he’d thought this was over.
Why didn’t CJ go back to Baltimore? What resident in her right mind would risk such a prestigious position? She’d gotten her attending on board with the idea of filling elective hours. Carter couldn’t exactly deny the request. That would look suspicious. But this ridiculous plancould very well backfire on her. A residency position at Johns Hopkins came with certain expectations, complete focus being first and foremost.
He shook his head. Some people just didn’t appreciate the gifts life gave them. His residency at the Mayo Clinic had been such a gift. His grandfather had reminded him of that every day since Carter had returned to join the family practice.
Carter wasn’t allowed to deviate from the plan that had been in place well before his birth. When he finally married, that too would be part of the plan, the nuptials a well-thought-out business negotiation. Just another reason Carter was in no hurry. He enjoyed his freedom far too much.
What little he had.
His family couldn’t control what he did between the hours of 11:00 p.m. and 6:00 a.m., but only by virtue of the fact that every single one of them insisted that seven hours’ sleep each night was not only beneficial but essential.
If his family learned of his latest indiscretion, he would be eviscerated. Disowned. Left in the cold to survive on his own.
That was unacceptable.
He liked his life. Huntsville’s medical community had no choice but to look up to him; he was, after all, a Cost.
Fury tightened his jaw. He had worked hard to rise to meet the family’s endless list of standards. His reputation in the cardiovascular field was growing. His personal client list had exceeded expectations for the length of time in practice.
He could not allow this to happen.
The police couldn’t care less about another sex worker ending up dead. Particularly one from the west side. That she was pregnant would be considered a sad consequence of the job.
Except that CJ was presenting the pregnancy as motive. Insisting the pregnancy made the murder a homicide with special circumstances.
A capital offense in the state of Alabama.
He understood full well how this, like all else in life, worked. The squeaky wheel got the grease. If she cried foul long and loudly enough, someone would pay attention just to shut her up.
Then he would be screwed.
He had to find a way to stop this.
