The engine roared as Jacob pressed down on the accelerator, laughing and cursing, unaware that the recorder in his coat pocket was collecting the sounds of the car’s interior.
There was a pop, which was the window glass shattering, some bumping, and a final smacking sound.
“Who shot him?” Leigh asked. “Pizza face?”
Winter shrugged. “Tug Murphy. Alexa checked your home phone records. You called White an hour before Jacob hit you and left the house. All it took was you telling White that Jacob was going to break. And now of course White and Tug are both dead.”
“Jacob believed that Mulvane had Cyn. I knew they wouldn’t hurt her if they got the land. I should have admitted everything then, but I knew Cyn would have been killed if Jacob had screwed things up-and he would have. He’d have told you and Brad everything and you could not have saved my daughter. Jacob didn’t care about her. That’s why I called Albert White.”
Leigh’s face slackened and her eyes showed fear. “This will destroy Brad. And Hamp…Tell me what you want me to do.”
Winter stared at her, reading her truthfulness as best he could.
“What if Brad doesn’t need to know? He would have to charge you with conspiracy or depraved indifference or whatever the law allows for crimes like yours. I expect he’d quit his job first to let others handle that, and it would absolutely destroy him. I don’t think he could live, knowing you were responsible for his father’s death and all of the rest of it. Brad is a very good man. I am going to believe that you really do love him. Maybe you just think you do so you can feel better about yourself. It doesn’t have to matter.”
“I have loved Brad for most of my life. I intend to spend the rest of my life making myself worthy of him. Brad and my children are all that matters.”
“If you’re truly sorry about what happened, like you say you are, you can prove it easily enough.”
“How?” Leigh asked him, hope in her eyes.
“Get rid of the money.” Winter took a sheet of paper out of his pocket and opened it. “Here’s a list of the dead and injured, with contributions you can make to each. I’m guessing on your tax liability, but whatever is left over will go to scholarships for underprivileged kids in Sherry Adams’s name. You do that and I’ll make sure nobody outside this room ever hears this tape. If you aren’t being honest about Brad and those feelings, he’ll know it soon enough. If you are, it’s maybe his only shot at happiness. Maybe Brad’s influence can be a counterbalance to what you and Jacob have done to Cyn. You agree to this, Billy has agreed to draw up the papers and handle the financial transfers. Him, I
Leigh nodded slowly. “I’ll do it.”
“I hoped you would see what a good idea it was,” Winter said, checking his watch. He stood slowly, knowing his face was reflecting the pain he was feeling. “Truth is, there’s a lot worse people than you and your daughter. I think that you’re more conniving than evil, but you sure did a lot of evil.”
“I didn’t think anybody would be killed,” Leigh said weakly. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“But they were. If I thought you hadn’t just lost control of this mess, I’d make it my personal mission to see you go to jail. Maybe Brad will help heal you. Leigh, I wish you redemption. I really do,” Winter said, lifting his crutches and placing the tape recorder into his pocket. “Billy will let me know when the papers are signed and the money is distributed.”
“You won’t be sorry,” Leigh said, wiping her tears away.
“If I am, you will be even sorrier. This will all be in a safe place. Now I have a plane to catch. Just remember that I will be watching.”
When Winter passed through the reception area, Cynthia kept her eyes on the open magazine in her lap, which was more than all right with Winter. He might regret not handing the evidence to the prosecutor in Tunica County, but he prayed that wouldn’t be the case. He had never thought he could let the guilty walk away clean, but he also never imagined he could blow a man’s brains out believing that man was unarmed.
He crutch-walked out into the bright crisp Tennessee air, slid into the back of the waiting taxi, and closed the door.
“Airport,” he said, leaning back.
After being in the same room with Leigh and Cynthia Gardner, he wanted to take a stiff brush and scrub his skin with disinfectant. He had decided that Paulus Styer would be the last man he would ever kill. Winter Massey knew that going home to the people he loved was the only thing that could make him feel whole again.
