Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
He swallowed hard.
“And I might have stuck to the legal route if you hadn’t come after my wife.” I pressed the tip of the knife against his throat. Hamish stretched away from it.
And I hoped like hell my bluff would work.
“Fine, fine.” Hamish nodded frantically. “It was me. The farm. I killed the first ewe and had someone else do the chickens and the other ewe while I was away. It was me!” Spittle flew out of his mouth. “But I didn’t do anything to your missus. I promise! I promise. It wasn’t me!”
Fuck. I’d expected to have to hurt him worse than that to get a confession. He really was an utter coward.
Releasing the pressure on the knife, I watched the small prick on his neck open up, blood trickling down. I felt no remorse. Eyes on Hamish, I watched his relief as I pressed the knife back into its slot and slid it into my pocket.
“I believe you.”
Hamish watched me retreat in disbelief. “That’s it?”
“I got what I came for.” Disgust washed through me again as I looked him over. “Genetics are interesting, aren’t they?”
“What?” He touched the wound on his neck, his pallor paling further as he saw the blood on his fingers.
“You are nothing like your parents. Either of them. Physically, aye, but personality? It was like you skipped out on all their genes in that respect. You shame the McCulloch name.”
Hamish sneered, braver now I no longer had a knife to his throat. “You sound like my fucking father.”
“He was a hundred times the man you’ll ever be,” I reminded him, my tone lethal.
“Aye? What do you think he’d think of this?” Hamish gestured between us. “Maybe you’re more like me than you think.”
I used to worry that I was. But now, I realized I’d just been playing a part as a boy to survive. That ability had come in useful tonight. I’d shrugged on that part as easily as I had shed it almost a decade ago.
Huffing in amusement, I lifted the hem of my long-sleeved tee, revealing the mic pack Walker had procured for me. “I am nothing like you.”
Hamish vomited and I stepped back until I reached the door.
It was barely open when he whined, “Scum! You wee grass. You piece of shite!”
“Nah.” I flicked him one last look. “The only shite here is you, Hamish. And you’re about to get flushed.”
Sleep was hard to come by, especially on the hard mattress of the cheap hotel I’d booked a night in. Finally giving up on sleep at three in the morning, I’d gotten in the car. I stopped at the halfway point for breakfast and chatted with Allegra on the phone, explaining what had happened. But I was desperate to see her in person. Because now neither of us knew who had followed her that day.
“I think he probably just recognized me,” Allegra had said in my ear as I’d eaten in the roadside café. “Some creeper who didn’t think about how intimidating it would be for me. It wouldn’t be the first time. Hey, it could even have been paparazzi.”
“Do you think?” Some of my tension eased, because that did make sense.
“Yes, I think so. I think we can relax. Especially now that we know for sure Hamish was behind what happened on the farm.”
We did know for sure.
That’s why I stopped in Inverness before returning home and left the recording of Hamish’s confession with Jim Rowley. He’d listened to the recording with a hard look on his face.
“Is it enough?” I asked.
“It’s enough to bring him back in for questioning. We’ll make him think it’s enough and he’ll probably confess.” Jim had shaken his head. “Hamish always was a thorn in Collum’s side. That apple fell very, very far from the tree.”
“Aye,” I’d agreed gruffly.
“You’re more like Collum than Hamish ever was.”
Emotion had thickened my throat as Jim studied me.
“You made him very proud, Jared.”
The grief of my grandfather’s loss still stung, but that day it was fucking overwhelming. Afraid I’d break down in front of the police officer, I offered my thanks and got the hell out of there.
Now as I approached the farmhouse, I could feel that grief building toward the surface. The sight of Allegra hurrying out the front door to greet me caused that burning ache in my chest to rise until my throat constricted. I’d barely jumped out of the Defender when my wife threw her arms around me.
My wife.
I’d never in a million years have guessed how good those words would feel.
Almost as good as how Allegra felt against me.
My grip on her was tight. Too tight. She shook against me, and guilt cut through the grief, because I’d worried her by taking off like that. But as she held on tighter and whispered my name over and over in a soothing tone, I realized she wasn’t shaking.