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Relax. Right. Did he believe this guy? Did he truly not kill Trent Carter? Simon wasn’t sure. And he didn’t like being unsure. Because if Freddy didn’t kill him, who did? And why? How would the person even know about Trent Carter?
Unease settled next to unsure.
“How did you know to go looking for this guy?”
“I have my ways. If you really want to know them, I’ll tell you, but...”
“Right.” Simon rubbed a hand over his head. “Okay. Just don’t do anything else, you understand? We got what we needed. Back off and lay low. And yet ... keep an eye on her.”
“Of course.”
Why did he have a feeling the man was placating him. “I mean it.”
The sharp words echoed in the room and the man’s eyes narrowed at him. “I got it. Have I failed you yet?”
“No.” The reassurances helped. Somewhat. “No, you haven’t. Thank you.”
“I’ve got your back, Simon. I always have and I always will.” A smirk twisted his lips. “Your success and well-being directly affect mine. And I always look out for me, so you can rest comfortably.”
Simon barked a short laugh. “Rest comfortably. Right. Okay, keep me updated on any developments. And the investigation into Carter’s death. I want to know why someone thought he needed killing.”
“Absolutely.”
The man disconnected the call and Simon leaned back in his chair.
“Dad?” Christopher stood in the doorway, dressed in the black tux and looking every inch the successful politician he dreamed of being.
“Yes, son.”
“We’re leaving in ten minutes. Everything okay?”
“Of course.”
“What about Keith?”
“What about him?”
“He’s been awfully quiet. It worries me.”
Simon waved a hand. “I’ll take care of him. You just focus on wowing your constituents. Especially the wealthy ones.” Christopher smiled. A tight stretching of his lips that caused Simon’s nerves to twitch. “Focus, my son.”
“I am, Dad, I am.”
“Christopher, honey,” Leslie said from the door. “Are you ready?” She looked almost regal in her black-sequined floor-length dress. The sleeves encased her thin arms, and her right hand gripped a small black purse. The three-inch heels put her at almost even height with Christopher, and Simon smiled at the beautiful pair they made.
“You look lovely, Leslie,” he said.
Her eyes warmed and she smiled, revealing her even, white teeth. “Thank you, Simon. Are you sure you’re not interested in attending? I’ve no doubt we could find another ticket.”
At fifteen hundred a plate? Not likely. Then again, if it would further his agenda in a more timely manner, it might be worth it. “Is Daphne’s father going to be there?”
Christopher shook his head. “He sends his regrets. He’s not feeling well. But he did offer a nice donation, so I’ll be sure to mention that in any conversations I have.”
“Good. Good.” Simon rubbed a hand over his chin. “Sounds like everything is taken care of, so I think I’ll take advantage of the evening to clear up some business before a meeting tomorrow, then call it an early night. You two go on and enjoy. I’ll look forward to hearing all about it at breakfast.”
Leslie shot him another brilliant smile and slipped her hand into the crook of her husband’s elbow. They turned as one andwalked out of the office. Simon’s smile faded and his temple pulsed with a sharp pain. He pressed a hand to it and sighed before walking into his bedroom to find the pills in the nightstand. Swallowing the pain pill dry, he stood at the window and stared out over the vast estate that had been in his family for over fifty years. His father would be terribly disappointed in him, and that thought nearly took him to his knees.
But it was also the reason he couldn’t give up. He couldn’t be the one to lose everything.
