Hour of Need (Scarlet Falls #1)(78)

Five minutes later, Grant pulled a manila envelope out of the bottom of a drawer. He opened and tilted it. A picture of Lee and Kate fell into his other hand. They were walking out of their house. Lee’s arm curled around Kate’s waist as he spoke in her ear. Her head was tilted toward him. The address was written on the bottom of the photo. “Shit.”

Grant turned the picture over. Notes were scrawled across the back. Locations of both of their employers, license plate numbers, e-mail addresses, and their daily schedules. The login information for their online calendars was scrawled in the middle of the page. That explained how he knew where to find them. Grant’s gut went sour as he focused on the last note: $5,000.

“Look what I found.” Mac said across the room.

Grant used his cell phone to snap a picture of the photo and the notes on the back.

Mac was holding a pricy laptop. “What the hell is a lowlife scrounging off a cashier doing with a machine like this?”

“Probably stole it. McNamara said Donnie had done time for ID theft.”

Mac returned the computer to the closet and crossed the floor. He sucked air when he looked at the photo. “Someone paid this guy to kill them.”

Instead of the hot rage Grant expected, ice flowed through his body. In front of him was evidence that Donnie Ehrlich had been hired to murder Lee and Kate. Grant didn’t want to call the cops. He wanted to lie in wait for this guy, then ambush and kill him after he beat a confession from his lips. Grant wanted Donnie’s blood, and the blood of the person who’d hired him, on his hands. But he wouldn’t do it. He’d do the right thing. As a soldier he’d sworn to protect his country, and that included all the laws that comprised her. Going vigilante wasn’t defending democracy.

But his hands—and his determination—were shaky as he returned the photo to its hiding place.

“Now what?”

“Only one place left to look.” Grant opened the door to the bathroom. His stomach curled at the sight—and smell. The body lay on its side in the bathtub. She was nude, wrapped cocoon-style in a sheet of plastic, the seams thoroughly duct taped. Ice was piled around the shrouded body. Empty plastic bags marked ICE, the kind sold in liquor stores, littered the floor. Her features were blurred by multiple layers of plastic, but Grant could make out a slender shape, long dark hair, and one, wide-open blue eye. Another layer of anger tested his tenuous control.

Mac looked over his shoulder. “I assume that’s the cashier.”

“Seems likely.”

“Now we call the police.”

Grant’s gaze swept over the clutter of hair spray bottles and body lotion, the personal items the cashier would never use again. He glanced back at the body. What a f*cking waste. “Yeah. It’s time.”

They slipped out of the trailer and returned to the car. Grant drove to the end of the street and pulled out his cell phone.

“Are you calling the cop?”

“Yes.”

Mac shook his head. “Might be best to deliver this tip anonymously.”

“Good point.” Grant circled to the front of the park, where the office squatted next to a gravel parking area. A pay phone hung on the exterior along the side of the building.

“Let’s see if this works.” Grant parked behind the office. He dug some loose change out of the ashtray. The phone was live. McNamara didn’t answer the call, and Grant left an anonymous message, though the cop might recognize his voice. He wiped his prints off the phone and went back to the car.

“Are we going to sit here and wait?”

“No.” It took all of Grant’s willpower to turn the car toward the exit and drive out of the trailer park. The urge to confront his brother’s killer seethed under Grant’s skin like bits of shrapnel, but deep down, he was afraid he’d lose control, that he’d kill Donnie before he found out who’d hired him. “I don’t want to tip off Donnie.”

“He’d definitely bolt if he saw us.”

“Hopefully, the cops will pick up Donnie, and he’ll tell them who paid him. His stuff was still in the trailer. I assume he was coming back.” But under all the civilized pretense, Grant’s heart and soul were screaming for revenge, and instinct told him that Donnie would cave faster to him than to the police. When put in just the right place, there was no better motivator than a sharp blade.

His fingers tightened on the wheel. “I hope we’re doing the right thing.”

“We are,” Mac said. “I’ve operated outside the law. It’s not a good place to be.”

“No. I imagine not.”

Mac pointed at him. “You know Lee wouldn’t want us to take risks. We can’t take care of the kids if we’re dead or in prison. Plus, if you go all apeshit and kill this guy, how will we find out who hired him?”

It seemed as if Mac was reading his mind.

“I know, but I don’t like it.” At a stop sign, Grant texted Ellie to let her know they were headed home. He could do this, but sitting back and waiting wouldn’t be easy. He’d only be able to hold back for a short time. If the police couldn’t find Donnie, Grant would go hunting.





Chapter Thirty


The hall bathroom of the Barretts’ house needed a serious renovation. Ellie attempted to duplicate an intricate braid in her daughter’s hair, but her mind was redesigning the space.