Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“Good. How did you find her?”
Shane clenched his teeth, fighting not to outwardly react. He’d never given the person’s gender. “We uncovered emails written by your wife. Emails in an account that you didn’t give me. It was linked to her personal account.”
He watched the mayor closely, trying to keep his breathing even and steady as his pulse raced. Gerald gave no signs that he was at all surprised that his wife had an email account that he didn’t know about. He simply nodded as if he were following along with Shane’s story.
“Did you beat your wife, Gerald?” Shane demanded, his voice hardening.
A soft sigh slid from Gerald’s parted lips and his eyes remained on the melting ice in his glass. “My wife was a very sick woman. Few people knew that.”
“The instances she detailed when you beat her matched with times when she was out of the public eye. When she didn’t appear with you at functions.”
“She was sick.”
“There were pictures attached to some of the emails. Black eyes. Bruises around her neck as if she’d been strangled by a pair of large hands.” Shane had struggled to open those attachments when he’d realized what they were. There hadn’t been many and after just the first one, he’d been ready to shoot Spring himself.
“Was it an accident?” Shane pressed when the silence stretched from the mayor.
“An accident?”
“Killing your wife? Did you have an argument too close to the stairs? Just a little shove to get her away from you? And then the next thing you know, she’s falling down the stairs, breaking her neck?”
Gerald’s sigh was louder this time. Lifting his head, his smiled at Shane and it was like a mask had fallen away. The nice, honest man that had invited Shane into his home was gone, replaced by a sinister figure with evil bleeding out from his soul. Holy fuck, how had he not seen it earlier?
“You know Shane, you’re not my only visitor today. I had an old friend drop by for an unexpected visit. I think you’d really like to talk to her.”
A cold knot of fear formed in Shane’s stomach. He could too easily guess who Gerald was holding, making the whole situation ten times more difficult. It was no longer just about getting a confession and getting himself out alive.
“Gerald, I’m just looking for the truth,” Shane said firmly but calmly.
Lifting his left hand, he pointed a gun at Shane. “I liked you, Shane. I really did. You’re a good guy. The kind of person that I’m fighting for as mayor. The kind of person I want to support to help make our city truly great.”
“Whoa!” Shane took a step back, putting his hands up. “There’s no need to pull a gun on me.” God, he hoped the damn wire was still working, because his backup needed to know that this meeting had gone south fast.
“We’re ready to charge when you give the signal,” Natalie firmly said in his ear.
Geronimo was balanced on the tip of his tongue. It was the code word they’d agreed on if things got too dangerous and the police needed to storm the house. But he couldn’t get himself to say the word. Right now, Gerald Spring was talking and not pulling the trigger. If he was willing to talk, then Shane might be able to get a confession out of him. He also needed to set his eyes on Spring’s other “guest.”
“But I think I do, because I know that you’re not being honest with me. It’s not your fault, of course. She got to you. She got to my wife too.”
“Gerald—”
“Come with me. Let’s go have a chat with the woman who is trying to fucking ruin my life,” he snarled, showing a hint of anger for the first time. But it was like lightning. A flash and then his expression smoothed over again, the sinister smile back in place.
“Where are we going?” Shane asked as Gerald gave a little wave of the gun toward the back set of stairs off the kitchen.
“Let’s go down to the man cave. That’s the perfect place to take care of this sort of thing.”
Moving behind Shane, Gerald herded him across the kitchen to the stairs. As he was about to take the first step down, Gerald’s right hand landed heavily on Shane’s shoulder, stopping him. He held him there, the muzzle of the gun pressing hard below his shoulder blade on the other side of his speeding heart.
“And to answer your question,” Gerald said as he leaned close, his hot breath brushing against the shell of his ear. “It wasn’t an accident. My wife didn’t fall down the stairs. I shoved her filthy, lying ass over the railing on the second floor and her head shattered on the hardwood like a dropped watermelon.” He then gave Shane a small shove so that he’d walk down the stairs.