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“Correction.Anycamera within a two-mile radius. We hit them all.”
“Search my father’s house. Get inside. Do what you have to do and take him down if that’s what has to happen and if you can’t make that happen, I will.”
“We don’t know that your father did this.”
“He did a hell of a lot of other things, so ask me if I care, Blake. He needs to go down.”
“You know I don’t frame people, Gabe. That’s not how we operate.”
“I’ll fucking frame him if you won’t.”
“Are you sure you and Reid aren’t twins? Because I just had this conversation with him. Both of you are operating emotionally, which isn’t your way. Exactly why you both need to step back and give me some room to work. A little birdy tells me there’s something in the wind.”
“What something?”
“A way out of this. Go to bed and let me do my fucking job. More tomorrow.” He hangs up. Fucking asshole hangs up when I’m the one paying him. I shove my phone into my pocket and press my hands to the window. “Damn it,” I growl. “Damn his little birdie.”
“Gabe?”
I turn as Abbie draws near, wearing only my T-shirt and I notice every part of her, from her wild red mass of curls to her pink painted toes. And her companion: Dexter. He’s by her side, her private escort. I drag her to me and settle her against the window. “Miss me?”
“I heard, Gabe. I heard what you just said. I heard you talk about framing your father to save me.”
I inhale and look skyward before I level her in a stare, knowing everything I want to protect her from is charging at me, at her, at us. “My father is a bad man, Abbie.”
“You keep telling me that, but—”
“He may well be the one who did this, all of it.”
She pales. “What?”
“He took over your ex’s role in the development project when Kenneth died. He has the most to benefit from his death. Jean Claude—”
“You can’t trust Jean Claude. He’d turn this on your father as easily as he’d turn it on us. He did this.”
“No. Reid doesn’t believe he did it and he knows the man, and yes, well. My brother was involved with him through our father, and for far too long. Furthermore, he’s pissed about the police attention. If he did this, it would have looked like an accident.”
“Okay,” she accepts. “Why would your father do this when he’d benefit, when he’d become a suspect?”
“Because you were a more likely suspect. Why the hell do you think the killer wore a red wig?”
“This doesn’t feel right, Gabe. It’s not him. This is murder we’re talking about.”
“You don’t know my father. I didn’t want you to truly know what he’s capable of, but he has killed to get what he wants. He will kill to get what he wants.” I release her and walk several steps away before turning to face her. “Kenneth had abank account in your name. Blake got rid of all records of that account.”
“I know nothing about this.”
“Of course, you don’t. You were never meant to know. My father helped Kenneth launder money through it.”
“I—I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“Say you get it. Say you understand that my father has to be dealt with.”
“I mean, yes. I get that Gabe.”
“Good. Step one: we need to be done with Jean Claude so he doesn’t turn on us. We’ll sign the papers right away. I want you off his radar.”
“Before what?”
