Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
According to my last text from Levi, they’ve kept him entertained for the past half hour or so as I finished things up with the sheriff. Now, pulling up to the house, anticipation of going toe-to-toe with him makes me want to rush inside.
Instead, I take my time, savoring the moment. Like swirling a fine wine around in my mouth to taste its quality. Never been a wine drinker, but that’s the general idea. Let the man spend another few moments believing he got away with something. It’s all going to come crashing down very soon.
They’re in the dining room. There’s something poetic about it. This will be the second time I commit murder in that room, though this time, there won’t be blood involved unless my victim decides he wants to get violent. He’s sitting on one side of the table, a glass of scotch in front of him, his wide-brimmed hat sitting on the table, and his shirt open at the top two buttons. He’s making himself at home.
“Oh. There he is.” Immediately, Joseph’s eyes narrow, his gaze moving over me. “Last I saw you, you were ruining what was supposed to be a major moment for my son. Is this what y’all invited me here for? So he can rub it in my face instead of someone finally telling me what happened to my boy?”
He looks over the table, where my brothers sit across from him. I pour myself a drink despite the early hour—since when has that ever stopped me?—then join them. My brothers saved me the chair directly across from him. How thoughtful of them.
“Mr. Lowry, I’m sorry to have to tell you this.” We discussed it yesterday, and this seems like the best way to go. Coming out with the truth. “But your son is dead.”
His eyelids flutter. He sputters, “Excuse me? And how would you know that unless you were the one who murdered him? I knew it was you. I came here knowing it had to be you.”
“You’re wrong about that. I did, however, put a bullet through the head of the man responsible. That was just yesterday morning, right around dawn. He also abducted Allie. You remember her, right? The girl you went out of your way to intimidate?”
“He was also responsible for murdering the two investigators you sent out here,” Sawyer adds. He sounds so casual about it.
Lowry’s mouth twists into a smirk. I didn’t expect him to believe us right away. “That’s mighty convenient. Pinning everything on a dead man.”
“I just gave a statement to Sheriff Tanner,” I tell him. “So did Allie, while she was being checked out at the hospital yesterday. You’re more than welcome to look into it, but you won’t learn anything new.”
“And he killed my son? You’re telling me the truth?”
“I’m sorry to say it, but yes.” Though I’m not sorry to say it. I’ve never been less sorry. “Unfortunately, we’re unaware of what became of his remains. But I promise you, justice was served.”
It takes him a second, along with half of his drink, but he eventually nods. “I knew it. A father knows. I suppose I should thank you for making that son of a bitch pay.”
“We did you a favor,” I tell him before looking at my brothers. I feel their anticipation crackling like an invisible force in the room. I share it. “And we’ll do you another one.”
This is not a stupid man. Right away, his chin lifts like a horse sensing danger in the air. “What kind of favor would that be?”
Sawyer slides a folder across the table. “I’m sure all of this will look familiar to you.” I know there have been people in the past who have mistaken my brother’s calm, centered personality for something weak or easily manipulated. Those people always regretted underestimating him.
Lowry arches an eyebrow, eyeing the folder before flipping it open. He’s got a shitty poker face, and his immediate outrage turns his skin red. “How dare you? You arrogant sons of bitches.”
“You don’t want to accept our favor?” I ask. I’m proud of myself for maintaining a calm demeanor when inside, I’m raging. “That’s fine. We would gladly take all of that information to the press.”
“The cover-ups,” Calder explains, leaning back in his chair like a man without a care in the world. “All those accusations, not to mention the three girls who went missing without a trace after last being seen with your late son. Their families might be interested in all of this going public.”
His tongue darts over his lips before he reaches blindly for his glass and drains it. Typical big talker. At heart, a hopeless coward.
“By the time the court of public opinion is finished with you and your family,” I explain, “you’ll have to sell your stock and your land for pennies on the dollar. Nobody wants to be associated with this kind of scandal, or with someone who would bully and intimidate defenseless young women to cover up their son’s crimes.”