Page 60 of Broken Wheels
Except when he thought about it? Yeah, it did. When Detective Marsh had tried to talk to Josh—before the feds had shown up—he’d asked the same question over and over.
And what did you find besides the body?
Like the body hadn’t been enough?
At last Josh found his voice. “How did he die?” When Dixon didn’t reply, Josh glared at him. “Tell me.”
Dixon sighed. “They found him in a burned-out car, handcuffed to the steering wheel.” He paused. “On ground near a deserted property in Racine.”
Josh widened his eyes. “The same place we found?—”
Dixon nodded.
Then the knowledge hit Josh, crashed into him, robbing him of breath for a moment.
Another horrible death that is somehow centered around me.
What was to say he hadn’t just set the wheels in motion for yet more deaths, by telling them about the project?
Josh pushed his chair back, stood, and stepped away from the table, unable to stop the tremors that coursed through him. “This is my fault, isn’t it?” The three men gaped at him, all wearing identical masks of horror, but he wasn’t about to let them dissuade him. “And don’t tell me it isn’t, okay? All those people at the mall died because of me. Tanner died. Now Marsh is dead.” He wrung his hands. “It all leads back to me, doesn’t it?” Ice trickled down his spine. “And now that you know about this mess….” He couldn’t bring himself to put his fears into words.
This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be.
“I should go.” Josh headed for the door, his stomach in turmoil. Gary and Michael both called out after him, but he didn’t stop.
What brought him to a halt was a pair of strong arms that enfolded him, and he couldn’t fight those. He didn’t even want to. What he wanted was to let that strength flow into him, make him stronger.
Make him hold on for a little longer.
Dixon pulled him close. “Listen to me, Doc.” His voice was low and urgent. “This isn’t your fault. You did not kill anyone. Okay, so they might be targeting you, but not one bit of this is because of you, do you hear me?”
Josh melted into Dixon’s arms, needing the closeness, Dixon’s strength. “I can’t do this. I just can’t.”
“Then don’t,” Dixon whispered. “Let go of it. Let me shoulder this for you.”
Oh, how Josh wanted to do that. He would have given anything not to see that little boy when he closed his eyes at night. Not to see the boy’s shattered mother. It didn’t matter that he’d directed his lawyer to find out everything about the people who’d died, and to ensure their families had nothing financial hanging over their heads. He paid for the funerals, then paid off any outstanding mortgages, credit cards, and loans. He took away anything that would add to their burdens. In the grand scheme of things, he knew his efforts amounted to very little, especially considering what they’d lost, but he also knew he’d done it in the hopes of assuaging his own guilt.
Newsflash. It hadn’t.
“I don’t want anyone else hurt,” Josh whispered. Pain seared his heart.
“Dixon, take him to your rooms.” Michael’s voice was gentle. “Josh, we’ll talk more about this later, okay? But right now you need to… decompress a little.”
Decompress? As if.
Dix encouraged Doc to lie down on the bed before pulling the blanket over him. It almost killed him when Doc broke down sobbing.
He’s a gentle soul. This is tearing him apart, and I can’t stop it.
Dix couldn’t help feeling bad about Marsh’s horrific death, even if he had badgered Dix about his role in this whole debacle. Except horrific didn’t even come close. Agent Chalmers had intimated that Marsh would have been alive when the vehicle was set ablaze, hence the handcuffs.
Doc didn’t need Dix to tell him that. He was no fool. He could read between the lines.
“I’m sorry,” Doc whispered.
Dix’s simmering anger rolled and boiled until it was white-hot rage.
If this isn’t the work of the government, who else stands to gain from hurting Doc?