Page 107 of I’ll Be Watching You

At least, that was what Peter told Tim.

Peter also told Tim that Angelhart felt guilty and planned to confess everything to the police, so Peter asked Tim to set up a page of photographs of Angelhart’s family that self-deleted an hour later. Just to remind him who would be hurt if his corruption and medical malfeasance became public. Or so Peter had said. Peter didn’t want an actual court trial because it could come back and damage their entire research program if Angelhart told the jury why he’d killed Klein. Not to mention that Tim’s uncle Zach would be fired and maybe even in more trouble because he was the head of the medical center.

Tim believed him. Angelhart and Klein were the guilty men, not Peter and certainly not his uncle!

Maybe Tim wanted to believe Peter. He told a good story and it seemed logical at the time.

Only, now, a nurse was dead. And Angelhart couldn’t have killed her. He was in prison.

But Tim had told only Peter that Liz Swanson had asked Medical Records to research the missing file. Then she was murdered.

That was no coincidence.

Dammit. It all made sense now, but then? He’d needed the money, and he wasn’t doing anything illegal. Well, he was, but it wasn’t that bad, right? Maybe a misdemeanor?

Stop lying to yourself!

Okay, he’d go home, pack a bag, go to his parents’ house. He’d ask Uncle Zach to come over, and he’d just tell everyone at the same time. Get it over with. Tell them he felt guilty and wanted to do the right thing. That’s it. Admit what he did, say he was sorry, that he would go to the FBI and tell them everything.

He didn’t want to go to jail. Were they right? That he might be able to get off with probation? He hadn’t killed anyone. He didn’t know that Peter was going to kill Liz Swanson.

Tim’s hands were shaking and he tried to calm down. Panicking wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

Deep breath. Okay. Good. Maybe he should just take a vacation until this all blew over? He had the time, he had money, he could go to . . . where would be a nice place to hang for a couple weeks in November? Maybe San Diego. Maybe a cruise. He’d always wanted to go to the Caribbean. Gorgeous women. Lots of drinks and good food. Not think about any of this.

Or Hawaii. Farther away from Phoenix. Just until . . . when? The Angelharts wouldn’t let this go. Their father was in prison! What if he was innocent?

No, he couldn’t be. He’d confessed. The photos Tim posted were just to make sure that he didn’t blab about the corruption that the two doctors were involved in.

Yet . . . if Peter could have killed a nurse, maybe he could also have framed Cooper Angelhart. And . . . and Tim had helped.

He felt hot and cold at the same time. He felt used. Manipulated. And very scared.

Okay, first idea. Tell Uncle Zach and then go to the FBI. Tell them everything, just like he promised the two PIs. Beg for leniency.

Second idea, spontaneous vacation.

He bit his lip, thinking. Then his phone rang, startling him, and he bit down hard and tasted blood. He swerved, almost hitting a Tesla.

He had to calm down.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“What were Margo and Jack Angelhart talking to you about in the parking lot this afternoon?”

When he recognized Peter’s voice, his heart flipped and he had to pull over, otherwise he knew he’d crash his truck. He pulled into the breakdown lane, put his hazards on, tried to think.

“Tim, what did you tell them?” Peter demanded.

“Nothing,” Tim said automatically.

“They talked to you for thirteen minutes and you told them nothing?”

How did he know? Was he there? Had he seen them? Had he seen how Tim fell apart? What could he say?

“What did they want?” Peter demanded.

“They—they just said they were investigating a complaint. That I, um, altered medical records. I told them no, of course not.”