Page 22 of Tempting Devil
“He put an addition on the back of the house, probably because those ovens require some heavy duty walls and insulation.”
I nodded as another memory clawed its way to the surface. But like before, it remained just out of reach.
“How can I be of service to you today?” a voice sounded over Henry’s laptop, and he turned up the volume.
“Looks like the microphone I planted works,” he remarked, but I quickly hushed him. Not because I was interested in the substance of the conversation, although I certainly was.
But there was something familiar about that voice, especially now that it wasn’t distorted like on the security feed.
“It was my understanding after our last meeting that our business together was concluded,” Brian continued, his tone professional, yet displeased at the same time.
“That was my understanding, too,” James replied. “Based on your assurances.”
“I fulfilled my part of the bargain. Made you quite a bit of money, too, if memory serves. Which is why I was surprised to get your call. All of them.”
“It’s come to my attention that you may not have held up your end of the deal like you led me to believe.”
“What do you mean?” I could hear the confusion in Brian’s voice.
“Fingerprints belonging to Samuel Tate were found as recent as two days ago,” James hissed.
A heavy silence fell over the speaker, broken only by the distant sound of passing cars. What I wouldn’t have given to be in that room, to see this guy’s expression.
To see both of their expressions.
Finally, Brian broke the silence. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with me.”
“You don’t?” James barked out around an incredulous laugh. “It has everything to do with you. I hired you to do a simple cleanup job.”
“As I’m sure you recall, it wasn’t exactly the simple cleanup job we’d originally agreed upon. Not when your friend failed to actually complete the job. Like I told you back then. I’m a cleaner. Not a killer. I’ll dispose of any bodies brought to me, but that’s where I draw the line.”
I could feel Henry’s eyes studying me as I stared at the laptop, as if that would have helped me understand all this better. “Are they talking about?—”
I silenced him with another hush, my heart pounding in my chest.
“I gave you an option. One that paid you handsomely.”
“Except Samuel Tate’s goddamn fingerprints were found!” James reminded him yet again. “By the fucking cops when they were investigating Alton Sinclair’s death! You promised you’d make him disappear and none of the evidence you left behind would ever be tied to us.”
“And that’s precisely what I did. Last I checked, some kid was arrested for the murder, who then tragically lost his life during a prison fight. Case closed.”
“Not if Samuel’s DNA has been found recently. You swore that, even if he somehow managed to survive any length of time, he’d never be able to escape.”
“No. I simply said the probability of him surviving any length of time was extremely low. Need I remind you again that this was your decision? And the money you made off the deal allowed you to run for and win the senate race.”
“You made money off the deal, too.”
“Merely a cut for putting you in touch with my contact,” Brian retorted with a hint of amusement. “If you’re upset with the outcome, take it up with him. Although I don’t think he’ll be as…forgiving as I am. From what I hear, he’s more the type of person to shoot first and ask questions later.”
“Aren’t you worried what this could mean?” James seethed, his tone dripping with frustration. “If the police reopen the investigation into Samuel Tate’s death, they might learn of your involvement.”
“They’d only learn about that if you tell them about it. And I know you’re not that stupid. Are you? Because I’d hate for you to have a taste of what poor Samuel Tate had to suffer.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me,” Brian responded with pure venom, the room falling eerily silent. Then he cleared his throat, his tone becoming professional once more. “I trust you can find your way out.”
Silence hung heavy in the air, punctured only by my ragged breaths and the thunderous racing of my heart. I pictured both men glaring at each other, willing the other to make the first move.