Pierce paused and Scott knew his hesitation meant he was about to conceal something or lie. Scott shook his head. What kind of hold did Watters have on his victims? It was as if Pierce thought that ratting out Watters was worse than losing his manhood. Scott had to put no doubt in Pierce’s mind that what he could do was far worse than any punishment Watters could inflict.
“Don’t worry about Watters. Worry about me.”
Scott shook his head and went back to the briefcase. He slowly removed the emasculator. He fastened the ends of the clamp over Pierce’s testicles and locked it into place.
“Well.” Scott smiled. “That fits nice and cozy.”
Pierce flinched, probably more from discomfort than pain, but maybe also from the anticipation of the perceived future. Trickles of blood ran down the inside of Pierce’s leg and beads of sweat dotted his forehead.
Scott gripped the handle of the tool and squeezed a little. Pierce squirmed but couldn’t move.
“Again, do you know where Watters is?”
Low muffled sounds got past the duct tape and Pierce began to sob. He swallowed a large lump in his throat before blinking once.
Dale was still feeling the effects of his meeting with Flannery when he pulled into his empty driveway. He wasn’t sure why he was home. It was as if the old cruiser had steered itself.
Actually, he did know why. There was something he wanted to do, something he needed to do. He’d been putting it off, hoping that if he didn’t do it, if he didn’t see the actual words, then it wouldn’t be real—like it was just a horrible dream that he would soon wake up from.
But it was time.
Since his family had left, Dale tried to spend as much time at the office as possible, especially during the day when he’d notice the things he missed the most. It just wasn’t right. No noise, no smell of home-cooked food and no toys scattered throughout.
For the first time since Betty’s departure, Dale went into their bedroom. He lay on the bed and buried his face in her pillow, where her scent still lingered—lavender vanilla shampoo and coconut lime body wash.
He turned onto his back, propped his head up on two pillows and shoved his hand inside his jacket pocket, where Betty’s letter had been for four days. He’d kept it there, close to his heart, refusing to read it, refusing to admit it was over. Now he was facing that fear head-on.
His name was written in black marker on the outside of the white envelope in Betty’s handwriting.
Dale felt numb.
As he reread the note, he felt a sudden, crushing exhaustion and was brought to a complete halt. How tired he was from too many years on the job, the stress of work and his marital problems.
His throat tightened and he was having trouble breathing. Then Dale did something that he hadn’t done in a long time. He cried.
He removed the snuff in his mouth and put it on the bedside table. He lay down and fell asleep, his head on Betty’s pillow.
Chapter 33
From his conversation with Whitney, Calvin had at least a rough description of his follower, unless he’d already changed his appearance, and he began to watch the video monitors around his fortress all the time.
Did this guy have his own reasons for wanting to kill Calvin or had he been hired to take Calvin out?
Calvin knew the more networks he reached out to, the greater possibility of finding his opponent. So, with Rachel surfing the net, he decided to try Gene Lockhart, a forty-one-year-old bachelor with a gambling problem. Lockhart was also a pit boss at the Golden Horseshoe Casino and someone Calvin had grown to trust. He had collected from him years ago and could get him fired at any time. But Lockhart somehow had convinced him that he would get over his addiction and he had kept the secret. True to his word, Lockhart had been clean since. Lockhart had introduced Calvin and Rachel, so each man was indebted to one another, even though Calvin held all the real cards.
Lockhart knew the streets and had major contacts.
“What?” a sleepy voice barked into the phone.
“Geno, it’s me.”
“Cal? What do you need?”
Calvin knew the sound of his voice had roused his friend. “I need some answers.”
“Sure. Is this about your
“Afraid so.”
Both were silent a moment.
“I’ll tell you anything you need to know, if I can.”
“Great. I need some information on your boss.”
“He’s a popular guy lately.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, just the other day the police came by asking about Ace.”
“About the Grant murder?” Calvin hadn’t seen Sanders’ name in any “suspect” report.
“Of course.”
“What did you tell them?”
“Most of this crew is scared to death of Sanders and I know the execs and employees at the Midas are too.”
Calvin sat back in his chair. Why had he thought he’d get information?
“But for
He was back in business. “Thanks, Geno. I appreciate that. Now, talk to me. Tell me anything you’ve seen out of the ordinary or anything you might have overheard.”
“Sanders is a very private businessman. He shares almost nothing with anyone. I know he was mixed up with Pitt. But you probably know that. Sanders was said to be sleeping around with Linda Grant, but that wouldn’t be the first marriage he’d broken up. I wish I could help you more, Cal.”
“This isn’t anything I don’t already know. I need to prove that someone else committed these murders, but so far, I can’t do that. I need something to take to the cops.”
Lockhart’s voice changed. “I might not have proof, but I can tell you this. Sanders is evil and capable of killing.”
“How do you know?”
“Nothing you can use. But remember I told you about that young couple we caught counting cards at the Black Jack table two years ago?”
“I remember.”
