Finlay Donovan Is Killing It(Finlay Donovan #1)(22)

Great. The garage door was broken. Just one more thing Steven knew how to fix, and I didn’t. And now I’d have to pay some handyman to repair it.

I shook my head, mentally stacking one more bill on the pile outside on the stoop. “If Steven hadn’t insisted on being such an asshole, I never would have thought about it,” I said to myself. “I never would have gone to that bar and brought this creep home. But can you blame me? Anyone in my shoes would have considered it for fifty thousand dollars.”

Vero’s hand froze. The door hung open, level with her knee. “What did you say?”

I choked out a dark, desperate laugh. She already thought I was nuts. There was a dead guy on the floor of my garage and now I was talking to myself. “I said you’re right. My ex is an asshole. I’m sorry for what he did to you.”

The door fell closed, the clatter reverberating off the walls of the garage. I lifted my head, expecting her to be gone, but Vero was still there, holding her box to her chest.

“How bad?” Her eyes darted curiously to Harris’s body. Her ponytail bounced as she jutted her chin at him. “You said he did some bad things. How bad are we talking?”

“Really bad.”

“Fifty thousand dollars bad?”

Vero’s fingers closed tighter around the frying pan as I rose slowly to my feet. I crossed the garage to the van and fished under the seat for Harris’s cell phone. Angling it toward her, I swiped open his photo album and held it out for her to see.

“What’s this?” She set down the box, clutching the pan as she took the phone from me. I told her everything … about my meeting with my agent and the conversation Patricia Mickler had overheard. About the note Patricia had left me and what I had witnessed at the bar. Her expression warped with equal parts horror and disgust as she swiped from one image to the next.

“I never meant for this to happen,” I explained. “I only followed him because I was curious about why his wife would want him dead. I tried to tell her she had the wrong person, but then I saw him put that drug in that woman’s glass, and the next thing I knew—”

“You killed him.”

I winced. “Not intentionally.”

She passed me Harris’s phone. “What are you going to do?”

“I was going to turn him over to my sister, but then…” I glanced down at Harris. I’d made the decision to turn him over to Georgia while he was still breathing. Before I knew he was dead. “If I explain to the police that it was an accident, it won’t be so bad, right? It’s not like I murdered him. Manslaughter’s a lesser charge.”

“I don’t know, Finlay.” Vero set down her pan. “After the Play-Doh incident, this looks pretty bad.” She was right. The charges Theresa had filed against me were a matter of record. I had never intended to hurt her—only to damage her car—but to the police, it might look like I had used my car to poison Harris on purpose. Especially after I’d stalked him, drugged him, and brought him home.

I sniffed, exhaling a shaky breath as I considered what I was about to do. “Delia and Zach are already at Georgia’s place. If I turn myself in and the police arrest me, will you help her with the kids?”

Vero nodded, her full lips turning down at the edges.

“I guess I should tell Patricia that he’s…” We both looked over at Harris’s ashen face. If I told the police everything, Patricia would be implicated for conspiracy to commit murder. She would serve time in prison right alongside me. The least I could do was give her fair warning. With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and dialed Patricia’s number.

“Is it done?” she asked with a desperation I finally understood. Harris was a horrible man. I couldn’t blame her for wanting him dead.

“Yes, but I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not—”

“Did you get rid of his body?”

“No. That’s why I called. I can’t—”

“You have to,” she insisted.

“I’m turning myself in to the police.”

“You can’t do that!”

“You don’t understand. This wasn’t supposed to—”

“You have children, don’t you?”

My breath caught. Something in her tone had shifted, hardened. A deep crease of worry formed between Vero’s brows as she watched my face fall. She leaned closer, listening. “Why would you ask me that?”

“That was a diaper bag you were carrying in Panera. There were baby wipes inside. I saw them. If you love your children, you will dispose of my husband’s body.”

“Or what?” Vero and I locked eyes.

“Or the police will be the least of your worries.” The words shook. “My husband was involved with some very dangerous people. And if they find out what we’ve done, they’ll come for both of us. They will find us, and they will kill us. It won’t matter if we’re behind bars. They have eyes and ears all over this town. They have friends in very high places. You and your children will never be safe. They can’t know. No one can know. Do you understand me?”

“What kind of people?” I asked.

“Believe me, you’re safer if you don’t know.” I did believe her. I believed the wobble in her voice that said she was every bit as afraid of these people as she had been of her husband. Maybe more. “Get rid of Harris tonight. I don’t care where. Just make sure no one ever finds him. That’s the only way we’ll both be safe. Don’t contact me again until it’s done.”