Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Augustin pulls us into traffic, his GPS set for the proper destination. Of course, Jack does as I expect and talks and talks, and never seems to notice no one is talking back. I lay my head back and shut my eyes, tuning him out, as I process the implications of that note. It’s not Roger. And there’s already been a protégé who is also dead. That leaves someone I know and talked with back then. That was always Lucas and for the first time I wonder about my cousin. Kane doesn’t trust him. He never has and Kane has good instincts though in this case, I’ve always thought Kane was allowing jealousy to dictate his actions, but I’m suddenly not sure anymore. And yes, he’s with Tic Tac in the Hamptons today, but Lucas is resourceful. And smart. He’d hire someone to deliver that note.
My phone buzzes with a message and I lift it from where it’s resting in my lap to read a text from Tic Tac: I’m finding nothing on the cameras. Maybe it was a staff member? And do we really think Roger has another protégé?
He’s speaking of Morris who was straight up a killer who trained under Roger. Where there is one there could be more, but the more I process, the more that feels off and I respond with: We need to figure out who Junior is once and for all and that question will be solved. Dig.
It’s right then that Augustin gives a low whistle. “Talk about living in style.
I lift my head and take in the winding tree-lined two-lane highway, and a terraced hillside to my left that offers downright stunning views of the Hudson River, The Palisades and the Tappan Zee Bridge. This elite area borders two thousand acres of protected nature preserves encompassing hundreds of miles of hiking, biking, and riding trails, tracking the river all the way down to New York City. My father feels safe out here, while I think of how easily someone could sneak in through the forest and right back out again.
I wonder if that’s what’s taken place already.
“Looks like a perfect place to hide a body to me,” Jack murmurs, and too often I agree with that man.
We round a corner and travel another half mile before we turn onto a private street with only one house, a steel gate surrounding vast manicured grounds, and a security post on this side of the entrance. “All this on taxpayer dollars,” Augustin comments.
Indeed, I think though I don’t know yet what’s beyond the walls, but I’m not expecting a slum. “Pull up to the window,” I say, not bothering to comment on the property. The excess is obvious, and it’s shocking that it began even before my father sinks his greed into the mix of things. This is why I hate politics. It’s never about the people at all.
Augustin has eased up to the security booth now and he rolls down his window, to speak to the officer. “I’m delivering the governor’s son and daughter to him at his request.”
“And you are?” the uniform asks, and he leans in a bit and eyes Jack. “And who is he?”
I am not in the mood for a robocop on a power trip. I lean over close to Augustin and hold up my badge. “With me. Now open the damn gates.”
He opens his mouth to argue and I hold up a finger. “Do not say whatever you’re about to say. It’ll piss me off and you really do not want to piss me off today. You won’t like the results. Open the gate.”
He opens the gate.
Now we go forth and find out who’s dead.
Chapter Twenty
The path forward curves through the thick shelter of heavy tree cover, until we bring the mansion into view that is more castle. It’s white and sprawling with a deck that resembles the curve of the one at the White House. There’s a fountain just below that spectacle where a concrete lion spews water. There are three total concrete encased plant beds. My guess is the pool and tennis courts are in the rear. My dear father is living the life of a movie star’s widower bigger than ever before and I make a mental note to find out if all of this is really taxpayer funded. Or is it private donors that lead back to members of the Society?
As we draw nearer it’s clear there are no emergency vehicles anywhere to be found which translates to us either arriving early or late for whatever is happening, or me and Andrew are being fucked with and Dad’s jerking our chains. “There’s a tape barrier at the bottom of the stairs,” Andrew says, as if that proves anything at all. It’s not unusual for security to shelter a governor from the public that might hate him just for breathing, but I like to save my shit talking to Andrew for private. Sometimes. Okay only when I’m saving my energy for better targets of which I’m about to have many.