Authors: Sherry Gammon
“Your brother Alan cable-tied Seth to the handle of the fridge before almost killing him and Maggie. Karma, don’t you think?” He limped away, returning with a kitchen chair and set it next to the pillar, motioning me to sit down. I remained standing.
“Whatever.” He shrugged. “My mother would roll over in her grave if I didn’t act the gentleman.”
“Booker, will you let me explain?”
He sat on the couch and pulled the recliner out, setting his right leg on the end, grimacing. “Where was I?” he asked, ignoring me still.
“Oh, yeah, vile drug dealers by the canal. We were close to catching them last night, closer than we’ve ever been. . . Or so we thought. Turns out it was all a set up.” He wiped his hands over his face. “My team was led to believe that we were finally going to learn who the dealers were. We followed our supposed informant to a deserted area, under a cement bridge. A gun fight ensued. When it was over three of my men were dead, another seriously injured. He’s at Port Fare General as we speak, fighting for his life. He’s the youngest at twenty-
three, or maybe he’s twenty four.” He shrugged and continued. “If it weren’t for the fact that Seth had finals, Delilah, it would have been him in the hospital. Or worse, dead.” Horror filled his eyes, as if he were imagining the sick scenario.
“I’m so sorry.” Ashamed, I sank into the chair. My father may not have had anything to do with this case, but there were others just like it that he must have been responsible for. How many died because of my family?
“The scumbags got away, well, most did. We did kill one. I chased after another, but slipped and sprained my ankle before I could get him.” He pushed the recliner all the way back and laid his head down, his eyes crimped shut. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of paperwork involved when three agents are killed. It’s been hours. I’m exhausted. In fact, I didn’t finish until about forty-five minutes ago. Imagine my surprise when one of my surveillance team stopped me on my way out and told me about a phone conversation he’d intercepted between you and your nanny.” He chuckled. “I’d completely forgotten about the tap on your house phone. But luck was on our side . . . finally.”
He took out his cell phone from his jeans pocket.
“I’m going to have to call for backup to take you in. I parked down the street in an unmarked car so you wouldn’t see me, but frankly, I’m in a lot of pain, and probably shouldn’t be driving.”
“No. Please wait. Hear me out
. If you still want to turn me in then, you can.”
He slammed his phone down onto the couch and jumped up, staggering. “If?” He laughed harshly. “Oh, mark my words, Delilah, you’ll be going to jail. I won’t fail this time.” He rubbed his wrist. I don’t think he even realized he rubbed at the scars Cole had told me about. “No one I love will die this time because of my inadequacies. I
will
protect my family.”
His words hit me hard. I sat stunned for a moment. “Booker,” I said quietly. His eyes jumped to me. I could see he regretted his words.
“Spill it. Let’s hear the lies.” Booker leaned against the wall and folded his arms, poker face fully in place.
“You can’t honestly tell me you blame yourself for what happened when you were only sixteen. You were a kid going up against two grown men
with guns.
No one could have won with those odds,” I said, trying to comfort him.
His cheeks flamed red, his eyes narrowed. “Do
not
bring my family into this,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “I’m sick of lowlife scum like you and your family destroying lives. Killing means nothing to you. I’ve had it with your kind.”
He peeled himself away from the wall, limped to the arm of the couch
, and plopped down. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch your mother and sister being . . .” he shook his head, closing his eyes tight against the memory. “They were beaten to death right before my eyes and I could do nothing but beg. I begged so long and hard, I lost my voice. And still I begged.”
My heart broke as I watched his tortured expressions, the tight jaw, the lips pinched tight, eyes darkened in pain. Cole never told me the details of what had happened, and hearing it now, all my anger for Booker dissipated. No wonder he hated me.
He dropped his head down, shaking it as he continued, his voice now as broken as his expression. “Fast forward eleven years. I walk into Seth’s house and find my best friend tied to the refrigerator door, and Maggie’s battered little body sprawled out on the floor. It was like seeing my sister all over again. Maggie pleaded with me not to shoot Alan, fearing Seth would be killed.”
He limped over to me. “Did Cole tell you why Maggie moved out of my house?” Before I could answer he continued. “No. He wouldn’t. Cole would never betray a trust. Not Mr. Pure
of Heart.” He smiled grimly. “My opposite.” He rubbed his hand along his jaw and continued.
“Maggie moved out because I couldn’t keep it together. I had full-blown panic attacks. I’d get up and check and recheck my security system ten times a night. I’d make sure all the doors and windows were still locked. It got so bad I barely slept. I stumbled into Cole’s office at three in the morning, convinced I was having a heart attack. My eyes were ringed
; I’d lost fifteen pounds. I was a wreck. When Cole figured out what was going on, he moved in that day with Seth and took Maggie with him. I protested, but he refused to change his mind. I went home that night and slept for twenty-six hours straight.
“But I won this time. You’re going to jail, and Daddy Dearest will be joining you as soon as he gets here.”
“Bo—”
“So what’s the plan? I heard the cryptic phone call. Tell me what the real time frame is.”
“T-two weeks,” I stumbled out.
“Two weeks?” He rolled his eyes. “Right. Is he walking here? How exactly does he plan to get his revenge, Delilah? If you help us, the judge may go easier on you.” Sarcasm laced his comments. “No. There’ll be no deals, Delilah. We have his prized possession in custody. We’ll get him.” He grinned. “Man, I’m sure glad we forgot about the trace we put on your house phone.”
I dried my face on my sleeve. “Booker, please listen. This is not what you think. Daddy’s health’s bad, real bad. I’m trying to lead him out of town. He’ll come after me, I know it. I’m his prized possession, just like you said. Plus, he’s going to be furious I disobeyed him.”
“Why then do you need the gun? Surely you don’t plan on shooting your own father.
You can never tell with drug smugglers, though. If they think they can get out of jail time, they’d shoot their own child.”
“Of course I’m not going to shoot my father. What kind of an animal do you think I am?”
“Please tell me that was a rhetorical question, because you won’t like my answer.” He picked up his cell phone again. Time to play my hand.
“Booker,
please
. Read the letter I wrote for Cole. It explains everything, my plan, everything. It’s next to my purse.” I nodded to the half-wall.
“This won’t change my mind, Delilah. I’m not Cole. I won’t believe your lies. I’m used to sob stories, the claims of innocence. You can watch some guy pull the trigger, and he,
or she
, will have a million reasons why they’re innocent.”
“Read it,” I pleaded.
He grumbled under his breath and snatched up the letter, turning it over in his hands. After tapping the envelope a couple times, he poked his finger under the seal and tugged it open, taking out the letter along with the drawings. He immediately tossed the drawings carelessly on the half-wall before removing the ring.
“You’re returning the engagement ring? Not a smart move. This thing’s worth a small fortune.” He held the ring between his thumb and forefinger, flipping it back and forth. His eyes darted to me,
and then back to the ring. He shook his head slightly before setting the ring down on the counter. “No,” he whispered to himself.
“
My dearest Cole
,” he began. “
I love you more than
—” he dropped his head back. “I’m not reading this drivel.”
“Skip the first paragraph.”
Blowing out another heavy breath, he began again.
“
The Touch
—”
“And skip the poem,” I said, embarrassed as he read words meant only for Cole.
“
Daddy’s coming to town, which means I’m leaving. Don’t try and follow me. I know what I’m doing. He’ll be livid when he learns I’m not here and will try to find me. When I left after my baby . . . d-died
,” Booker stumbled, “
he spent the next three years tracking me down. That’s why he didn’t get his revenge sooner here in Port Fare. Daddy hates when his children don’t follow orders. I know him. I guarantee he’ll come after me. I know how to stay one step ahead of him. I should, I’ve had to do it enough.
“I’ve drawn up a few more sketches of Daddy in his various disguises. But warn Booker and Seth not to be fooled. Daddy has others, many others.
“I’ll be getting a new cell phone, a pay-as-you-go, so I can toss it regularly. If by chance Daddy finds me, I’ll try and text you. It will only say one word: Shakespeare. That way Daddy won’t have a clue what it means and hopefully it won’t tip him off.
“I don’t believe Daddy’ll be alive much longer. If I hear that he has passed on, I’ll get in touch with you to see if you still love me and want me back.
“Cole, I have one ace in the whole. One thing that is all but guaranteed to stop Daddy. Losing Alan just about killed him, but losing me, his princess, will be the nail in the coffin. And I promise to use it only if absolutely necessary. If it comes to that, well, I guess I won’t ever see you again, but know I love you most of all, and that’s not impossible.
Forever yours,
Lilah.
”
“Nice psycho drivel, Lilah.” He set the letter on the half-wall. “Now, I want to know the truth. How did you plan on shooting all of us? Were you hoping to separate us, or track us down like dogs? Make us beg, maybe? You seriously don’t think we’d all just stand there and take our turn dying, right?”
“Look in my purse, you hardheaded idiot,” I snapped.
“Now, now, no need getting testy,” he said flippantly. He dumped the contents of my purse upside down onto the floor, spilling everything out, including the bullet. It rolled to the wall. Booker scooped it up.
“One bullet? So who’s the lucky one this is meant for? Me probably.” He shrugged, tossing the brass bullet repeatedly in the air and catching it as he spoke. “I’m guessing Daddy’s going to kill the rest, though I have to admit one bullet’s pretty cocky. I’m a great shot and even I wouldn’t limit myself to only one bullet.”
“The bullet’s not meant for any of you,” I confessed softly.
He fisted the bullet as he caught it this time, glaring at me. “So you expect me to believe that this
is
meant for your father?” He laughed. “Not even you’re that coldblooded. Or are you, Delilah? You have no problem destroying poor Cole’s heart, even after watching him go through that horrific surgery, but could you really kill your own father?” He tossed the bullet up again.
“No! I’d never do that.”
“Then who exactly . . .” He caught the bullet, mid-sentence, studying my face through cynical eyes. He snatched up the note again, rereading the words several times, each time shaking his head in disbelief.
“Booker, this will work. When my brothers died, it about killed my father. I don’t know how he survived this long. I think getting revenge is the only thing that’s fueled him. But this time, this time he’s much more fragile. If I’m . . . gone, it will push him over the edge. I
know
it will.”
He limped across the living room. “No, this can’t be.” He glanced back at the letter yet again, and then at the bullet in his hand before collapsing onto the couch. He dropped his head down, shaking it. “I was wrong. I was so blinded by my hatred
that I let it impede my judgment. What a fool I’ve been.”
“You believe me? You’re going to let me go?”
He sat silently for a moment as if he were letting the truth sink in. Finally he stood and hobbled over to me, his eyes scanning my face. “I think you just may be telling the truth. In fact, I’m almost positive you are.”
“Do you believe me enough to take these off?” I rattled the handcuffs at him.
“Yes,” he said, somewhat hesitantly as he dug in his pocket and produced a key.
“Good. Cole’s going to be calling to find out where I am. I want to get as much space between him and me as possible. You know as well as I that he’ll try and follow. You can’t let him. He’s in no shape to come after me. I left a map under my bed to mislead Daddy. Don’t remove it, and whatever you do,
don’t
let Cole follow it. I’m pretty sure Daddy will and I don’t want Cole anywhere near my father.”
I was so busy talking, I didn’t realize that Booker hadn’t undone the handcuffs. I panicked. “Did you change your mind?”
“No. As a matter of fact, listening to you has me even more convinced, and honestly, more disgusted with myself.”
“Booker, after all you’ve been through, I don’t blame you. But what does that have to do with these?” I rattled the handcuffs again. I was beginning to feel like Jacob Marley from
A Christmas Carol
.