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“And…?”
“It’s the right thing to do.” She frowned and opened her middle desk drawer. “Hey, would you mind if I have you witness something? You’re just attesting that you’ve seen me sign it.”
“Sure. Happy to.”
She took out a sheath of documents that represented a good ten or fifteen hours’ worth of legal work. Flipping through to the last couple of pages, she gripped a blue pen.
“Smile at the camera,” she murmured.
As Daniel gave a wave up to the corner behind her, she drew her name, slowly and carefully, on her signature line. Then she dated her John Hancock, gave Daniel the pen, and shifted the document around.
Daniel flexed his hand. “The shaking is better. Gus told me the side effects would leave quick, but I didn’t believe him.”
“He knows what he’s talking about.” Abruptly, she nodded down at the desktop. “You’re not asking what the document is about.”
“Not my business.” He pointed to the text below where he was signing. “I’m just a witness. The only thing I gotta worry about is that I saw you sign whatever the hell this is, and I did.” He passed the papers back to her. “No notary.”
“I’m going to take care of that.” She pointedover her shoulder. “We have both our parts on video.”
“Sure enough do.” Daniel sat back. “Any chance I just witnessed you selling Gus’s drug out from under him?”
“I thought you didn’t care what the papers were for.”
“Just kidding.”
C.P. smiled for the third time—and wondered what the hell was wrong with her. “You do not kid, Daniel Joseph.”
“Ah, but I’m trying to turn over a new leaf. I’m running out of time for self-improvement, you know. Winter is coming, so if I’m going to do any kind of evolving, I better get to it.”
C.P. tapped the documents and lied. “It’s a DNR, actually.”
Daniel’s brows went up. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Do. Not. Resuscitate.”
“Yeah, I know what the initials stand for. You planning on dying sometime soon there, C.P.?”
The words were spoken lightly, but his eyes were intense.
“No,” she said. “I’m not. But you never know. Back to Gunnar. It’s possible… just possible… that he somehow thinks I was involved in the bombing.”
Daniel sat forward again. “Really. Why?”
“And he might have come onto this property lastnight to retaliate. If I’m right? We’re all in danger, and it might make sense for you and Lydia to relocate. Gunnar is a follow-through kind of man, and he’s ruthless—even when he’s wrong. I’ve done a lot of things in my life, but bombing his little toy box was not one of them.”
Daniel glanced around, his eyes lingering on the panels that had come down over the windows. “No offense, but I went through this house and grounds, back in the beginning when Lydia and I first moved in. Old habits dying hard, you know the drill. This property is a fucking bank vault.”
“Going with your FDIC-inspired metaphor, there are thieves out in the world, Daniel. If what you’ve led me to believe about you is true, you know that better than anyone else.”
“I’m not the running kind, Catherine.” He nodded at the documents. “Always wondered what your first name really was. Finally found out.”
She shook her head, and felt a stab of sadness. “No, you knew before now. You came here to the mountain for the same reason that whoever blew Gunnar’s site up went to Pennsylvania, and that means you’ve read up on me. I don’t blame you. I don’t judge you. But let’s not pretend that we don’t know how all this started.”
The man who was dying stared at her for a moment. Then he smiled. “Roger that, boss.”
C.P. folded the document back into proper order. “Thank you for this.”
“My signature ain’t worth much.”
