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And God, I hoped I could finally do it.
Before I’d left, I’d contacted the guys in research about fingerprinting the book and note Ryan had found under my sofa. They were pals of mine, and they promised to call me the minute they had results. They also indicated I could contact them anytime if I needed anything, but now that I was off the force, would that be against policy? I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble.
I sighed. I was giving up more than a job and a family. I was giving up a lot of resources that I might need on this journey.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have a choice.
Though I knew Ryan wouldn’t approve, I was now at the door of my apartment. I needed to pack up for the trip. I entered stealthily, armed. I’d had to turn in my department weapon, but I still had my own, which I kept locked up in my car at all times. I did a quick search of the premises. Everything appeared fine, and I felt safe—for the time being at least.
I had grown more and more confident that I had been advised by an anonymous source, most likely my father, to steer clear of my home so the book and paper could be planted. Wendy Madigan hadn’t orchestrated the planting, as the evidence implicated her.
Then again…I knew enough about Wendy to know that she never did what anyone expected. But surely she wouldn’t implicate herself.
No, this had been my father. He was up to something, and I was beginning to wonder if he was helping me in his warped way.
He’d murdered my boss, and while Mark hadn’t deserved to die, he’d clearly been in league with my father, at least for that one small portion of his scheme. Mark was a good cop, so the only thing that could have gotten to him was a threat against his family.
Or money.
It might have all come down to money. I’d seen good people do bad things, all in the name of money.
The Steels had it. Wendy had it. My father had it, though he appeared to be running out.
But money had never been important to me. That’s why I had lived such a modest life, saving most of what I’d earned.
Was money truly the root of all evil? I didn’t think so, but one thing had become increasingly clear. With money, almost anything was possible—good or evil.
I gathered my passport and other travel stuff as quickly as I could, stuffing everything into a large duffel bag. I wasn’t sure exactly where we’d be going. Ryan would take care of that. All I knew was that it would be somewhere in the Caribbean, possibly near Jamaica, possibly not. And I couldn’t neglect the possibility that my father was sending us on a wild-goose chase.
“Damn it,” I said aloud. “If only I knew for sure that you were telling me the truth.”
My bedroom door creaked, and I gasped.
“I assure you”—my father’s voice—“I have told you nothing but the truth. This all ends now.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Ryan
Jonah, Talon, and I sat facing the warden of the prison. We’d been ushered into his office after we asked to see Larry Wade.
“We don’t usually give out this information, but you three have been in to visit Wade quite a few times since his incarceration. Plus, there are extenuating circumstances. We were going to have to contact you, anyway.”
“What information? And what extenuating circumstances?” Joe asked. “I want to speak to my uncle.”
“We’d let you if we could,” the bearded man said, “but Mr. Wade was murdered last night.”
My veins turned to ice. Not that I gave a shit that the motherfucker was dead, but now another source of information had dried up.
Talon looked visibly relieved. He hadn’t wanted to face Larry again. He’d had issues the first time he’d tried it, but my brother was nothing if not strong, and he would have done it. Now he didn’t have to.
“Murdered?” Joe asked.
“Yes. And it appears to have been an inside job.”
“Another inmate, you mean?” I said.
The warden cleared his throat. “No. Not another inmate. Mr. Wade was in a solitary cell…on suicide watch.”
