Page 48 of I’ll Be Watching You

Tom nodded. “Josie took them, talked to the security at the resort, and she’ll check on them regularly. She gave them a lecture.”

Jack almost smiled. He could just see how former judge Pop and stubborn Abuela would take a lecture from their granddaughter. But they would listen, and be smart.

Having his grandparents safe was one less vulnerability.

Tom continued. “Josie asked Phoenix PD to make frequent drive-bys to everyone in the family. My restaurant, our homes, even the Orozcos’. But do you think that’s really necessary?”

“I think,” Jack said cautiously, “the immediate family could be at risk. But mostly, Dad. Because he must know something they don’t want him to tell.”

“Or,” Uncle Rafe said, “consider what Cooper’s confession did.”

“I don’t understand,” Jack said.

“Cooper was threatened, and he confessed to a murder he didn’t commit to protect his family,” Rafe said. “Yet, he was also framed, correct? Someone put the weapon in his car. Perhaps they needed someone to take the blame so that the police didn’t look more closely at the drug trial. Because if there were a more thorough investigation, they may have started asking questions people wanted to avoid.”

It was a smart, reasonable theory. Jack nodded. “And if the case against Dad falls apart, people might start looking at other motives for the murder.”

He saw the flash of raw fear on his mom’s face. Because she knew as well as he did that the prison transfer was not only highly unusual, but also put Cooper Angelhart in greater danger. Until they found out why, who ordered it, and if he was safe at the facility, they would continue to worry.

He said, “Lu’s staying at Margo’s tonight, and we’ll talk about what the plan is after that.” He stood. “I’m going to shower and sleep. I suggest you all do the same.”

His mother looked up at him then, and the sorrow in her eyes hit him like a gut punch.

He had to give her some reassurance, so he said, “Mom, you raised five smart, responsible kids. We’re going to get the answers. We’re going to prove Dad is innocent. And we’re going to see that justice is done.”

Chapter Sixteen

Joe Carter

Carter had been seventeen when he first killed a man, if you could call the bastard who hit his ma every day that ended in y a man. Men didn’t hurt women, and certainly Carter wouldn’t allow any of the pricks his ma brought home after his father bailed on them when he was six to hurt his mother.

Even if she deserved it for drinking too much and sleeping around with every bastard who smiled her way.

He’d done two years in prison. He had a good lawyer, his ma had bruises over half her face, and to her credit, she’d stood by him.

She was dead before he got out of prison. Because she brought home another abusive asshole and Carter hadn’t been around to protect her. He didn’t want her dead, but she damn well deserved it.

Carter took some classes at the community college, but school really wasn’t for him. He got a series of jobs and wandered around aimlessly, picking up work where he could find it, until he ended up working for a bookie before sports betting was legal in Arizona.

He’d found his calling.

He didn’t kill anyone for the bookie, because dead gamblers could never pay you back, but one jerk seriously harassed the girls at the club, so Carter killed him on general principles. Word got around. He was still working for the bookie when Raul Guzman, a regular gambler who was also a drug runner, hired him to kill someone in his gang who was making a move to take over. The job paid well.

He liked getting paid to kill assholes. He’d probably do it for free, but the money was very, very good.

Guzman hired him for another job, and it became easier, though murder had never been difficult for Carter. Carter became known as the go-to man to take care of pesky problems quickly and quietly. The bookie got 10 percent. Carter didn’t mind. He liked his boss.

It was another gambler who came into the shop three and a half years ago who’d hired Carter for a particularly delicate job. Gambling was legal by this point, but some people preferred the old ways—high stakes, high reward—rewards that didn’t have to be declared to Uncle Sam.

Carter liked a challenge and took it.

Carter wasn’t a big man, but he was solid muscle. He looked average in every way and had been told by women that he had kind eyes.

Which made him laugh. He wasn’t a kind person, though he did treat the women he took to bed very well. He liked women. Respected them, even when they didn’t deserve it. He liked sex. He picked up on unspoken cues, which made him very good at all his jobs—from bringing women to orgasm to killing a man in cold blood.

Women were for sex. For companionship. To worship and appreciate all the beauty they brought into the world. Carter had never been in love, he didn’t see the point. But he loved women in general.

Until Liz Swanson, he had never killed a woman.