Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“And maybe we could have some coffee,” Detective Coleman adds with a perkier smile. “We could be here awhile.”
♦
I hate the Mardraggons’ house because it’s everything that old Kentucky is not. It’s a contemporary design with clean lines, geometric shapes and a flat roof. The frosted windows are without trim. The exterior is stucco with stone and wood accents, but not enough to warm up the otherwise cold, fortress-like composition. Even the landscaping is minimalist with no heart to the design. Knowing what I know about this family, and now knowing what I know the police suspect, the austerity seems even more prominent.
The doorbell makes a loud gonging sound and I wait to see if anyone will answer. I came unannounced and I have no clue if anyone is even here. Well, I know Lionel isn’t because after the detectives finished searching my house today, they confirmed that they felt they had enough evidence to make an arrest.
According to the police, Lionel Mardraggon tried to kill his granddaughter and I still can’t understand it.
But I need to know why because at some point, I have to make sense of this to explain to Sylvie. She’ll be crushed when she learns the truth, not because she bore them great love or respect, but because she shares the same blood as that monster. She’ll doubt herself merely because of the association and I swear if that bastard weren’t in a jail cell right now, I’d hunt him down and dispose of him.
The massive door swings slowly open and Gabe Mardraggon stands there. His face is pale, shadows under his eyes. He’s in the same clothes he was in at the hospital yesterday morning and he’s unshaven. The man is always so put together that it’s shocking to see him like this.
“Can I come in?” I ask.
I’m stunned when he steps onto the threshold, tucks his hands in his pocket and says, “No. You can’t.”
So be it. “I need to know what happened.”
“I can’t talk to you,” he says, and takes a step back to shut the door on me.
“Gabe,” I growl, and that stops him. “Sylvie is going to need to make sense of this, so I need to make sense of this. You have got to help me pave the way for our little girl to handle the fallout.”
It galls me to give him any bit of Sylvie by calling her “our” little girl, as if she belongs in some way to the Mardraggons. But I need him to tell me what the fuck happened.
“I know you tipped the police,” I say, waiting to see what he does. Those detectives didn’t tell me a damn thing, but he doesn’t know that. “How did you know it was your dad?”
Gabe rubs at his temple, sighing. He looks over his shoulder as if expecting someone to walk up behind him—presumably his mother—and steps out onto the flat porch. I take a step back as he pulls the door closed. “It was always expected that if Alaine died, her shares would go back to the main Mardraggon trust to manage for Sylvie. When my dad found out that Alaine’s eighty percent went to Sylvie directly with you as a co-trustee, he wasn’t happy.”
“I don’t imagine he would be. It’s why he sent you to buy me out.”
Gabe nods. “Yeah… that’s how he wanted to handle it. But when you declined, and I told him… he made a comment that I thought was just a joke in poor taste. He said something like, ‘It would be cheaper to hire a hitman and take you out.’”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” I snarl, outraged that he would consider that a joke. “Or go to the police?”
Gabe’s expression darkens. “I didn’t give it any consideration because it was all hot air. It wouldn’t have mattered if he murdered you, the shares still belong to Sylvie and my dad knew that. He was just posturing.”
“Glad you’re okay gambling with someone’s life,” I mutter.
“I never thought Sylvie would be at risk though,” he whispers, his voice clogged with emotion. “Never, ever thought he’d hurt that child just to get those shares.”
And yes, it hits me why Lionel would make the play for her. The trust says that if Sylvie dies before she turns twenty-one and without any legal heirs, the shares will revert to the main Mardraggon trust. Lionel didn’t need to kill me—he needed to kill Sylvie.
I cannot even comprehend it. It makes no sense on a human scale. “It’s just money,” I say.
“It’s never just money to Lionel Mardraggon, Ethan.” Gabe’s voice is acidic, his laugh cold. “It’s being the best, making the most, having power. That winery is worth way too much money. Alaine did such a good job with it, she put Sylvie’s life at risk because someone with my father’s ambition, coupled with his lack of conscience, sealed her fate.”