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She called the hit on Meredith’s mother from her office phone at exactly seven thirty-eight in the morning, and she hasn’t been able to step into the room a minute before that, ever since.
“So, can you please tell him that twenty million is a damn good offer, and when he makes it to Tiger Woods’ level, I’ll happily return to the table and renegotiate on his behalf?” She ends the call before getting a response.
She pushes the unlocked door open and hits the lights, and the moment her heels clack against the marble floor, I swivel around in her desk chair to face her.
“Good morning, Catherine,” I say. “How are you today?”
“I’d be a lot better if you weren’t in my office without permission, Michael.” She sips from her coffee mug. “Then again, are you here because you need someone to talk to about Meredith?”
“Not in the slightest.” I smile. “I talked to Meredith a few minutes ago…She looks pretty good for a woman who’s supposed to be dead. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about her dad paying someone to get that done, would you?”
Her face immediately turns white, and she drops her coffee mug to the floor, shattering it to pieces. She starts to head to the door, but it shuts and locks before she can reach it.
“She’s alive and well,” I say. “Just in case you want to pretend to give a fuck for five seconds.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Michael,” she says, looking at me. “And I’m not sure what ‘sick and twisted’ game you’re trying to play, but I’m not here for it at all.”
“Okay, then.” I lean back in the chair. “Well, perhaps you’re here for the hit you took out on your own sister two years ago, then? Now that I think about it, Trevor didn’t give you the discounted referral rate for bringing Mr. Thatchwood to us. I’ll have to cut you a late check for that. We appreciate our repeat customers.”
“What? How did you—are you? I mean…No, it’s…” She turns around and pulls at the doorknob again, trying and failing to yank the door open.
“It’s locked,” I say, as she pulls a set of keys out of her pocket. “And the locks were changed last night. Hence, why I left the door unlocked for you, your keys won’t work.”
“I can…” She takes forever to face me, and her eyes immediately go to the gun that’s now sitting at the center of her desk. “I can explain all of this. It’s not what you think it is.”
“I would hope not.” I cross my arms. “I’m listening.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be this way…I just—It’s hard to explain. I didn’t mean her mother any harm.”
“That’s the entire purpose behind hiring someone like me, is it not?”
“No, no. I’m not that type of person, and I had no idea that you were… If you’ll just listen…”
I wait on the typical, ‘I’m sorry, I’m human garbage,’ line—some type of remorse, but all she does is babble about herself. About how she must be dreaming and has no idea what I’m suggesting.
I’m still easily amused by these types of people. They honestly think that giving me a list of good deeds means a goddamn thing.
“Stop talking,” I say, cutting her off as I stand to my feet. “I’ve heard enough.”
“I love Meredith.” She looks at me. “I have since she was a little girl, and I loved my sister, too. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I—”
“If you say another word…” I pick up the gun. “You’re not going to leave this room. If you listen, I’ll give you that chance.”
She nods, and her face pales all over again.
“You’re not going to Thatchwood’s victory gala tonight.” I take a few steps forward. “You’re not going to tell him I was here. You’re going to sit here in this office, all damn day, and you’re going to spend every minute signing all of your firm’s escrow money to Meredith’s offshore banking account. You’ll sign away all of your personal money as well, and when you get done, you’re going to walk out of this office, right into the closest police precinct and tell them exactly what the fuck you did to get rid of her mother. Are we clear?”
She doesn’t answer. She just stares at me as if I’ll give her a bit of sympathy.
Never.
“Are we clear?” I repeat, and she nods—letting tears fall down her face.
“Good. In the meantime, don’t try to contact anyone—not the police, not your staff, not even her fucking father.” I narrow my eyes at her. “I’ll know if you do.”
I put the gun away and point to her desk. “I’ve left the paperwork for you, and I’ve sent a mass email from your account. None of your employees will come in today, and according to your email, you’ll be going on a long vacation. Effective immediately.”
