an audience. Marc had nothing to say to Paul Dunne. As far as Marc was concerned, the man had dug his own grave by siphoning funds from Lilly’s estate over the years.
Marc pulled his car up beside Dunne’s and stepped out into the cool fall air.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” the other man said.
“That’s because we have nothing to discuss.”
The other man raised an eyebrow. “Apparently you aren’t living in reality but I plan to enlighten you, starting now.”
Marc slipped his keys into his pocket. “You know what? I don’t have time for this.” He turned and started for the house.
“Make time.” Paul stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Lillian cannot live to see her twenty-seventh birthday.”
Marc rotated slowly. “Are you insane? Embezzling money is bad enough. You’re looking to add murder to your list of accomplishments?”
Paul let out a laugh, his eyes filled with crazed determination. “Of course not. I intend to add it to yours.”
“Now I know you’ve lost your mind.” It took everything inside of Marc not to show his own panic at the man’s words. He needed to stay calm and outtalk him, but first he had to discover what Paul Dunne had in mind.
Marc paused, deliberately remaining silent, waiting for Dunne to explain.
“The girl can’t inherit. It’s as simple as that.”
“Why? Because as soon as she does, she’ll find out about the missing money and have you arrested and thrown in jail?” Nothing would make Marc happier.
“Because I’d much rather have you inherit the shrinking pot of gold. I have as much on you as you have on me. Which means I know you won’t report me to the authorities,” Paul said with too much satisfaction. He rubbed his hands together, not due to the cool weather, Marc knew, but because he was certain he had the upper hand.
Marc swallowed hard. He wanted all the facts on the table. No surprises. “What is it you think you know?”
Paul grinned, his expression pure evil. “I know you lied to Lillian about the age at which she’d inherit so that you could manipulate her into signing her money over to you, her kindly uncle. And when that didn’t work, I know your real personality came out and you abused the poor girl. And I know you basically sold her to Florence Benson.”
Marc leaned against the trunk of his car for support.
Paul glanced up at the clear blue as if in thought.
Marc doubted he needed the time to think. No doubt he was just prolonging the agony.
“Oh, did I mention that I’m well aware of how you manipulated and bribed people in the foster care system to have Daniel Hunter removed from the Benson home. Essentially I know everything about you.”
As Marc thought about everything he stood to lose, his job, his reputation such as it was, and his fiancee, fear crept through him, slowly at first before exploding inside his head. “Fine,” he spat. “We’re at a stalemate. I won’t report you and you won’t report me.”
“Good. Now let’s discuss getting you to the point where you inherit, not Lillian. You need to take care of her.
“Hell no,” Marc said, nausea swamping him. “I’d rather let you spill what you know and take my chances with what you can and cannot prove than do your dirty work.”
Paul straightened his shoulders. As if he sensed Marc’s fear, he stepped close, suffocating him with his presence. “I’ve already tried to handle things on my own but I’ve discovered that when you hire someone, they need to have something at stake or else incompetence rules.”
“You had someone try to run her down at the mall? And set fire to Tyler Benson’s apartment?” Marc asked, realization dawning.
Paul neither confirmed nor denied the accusations but Marc knew he was dead-on.
“You’re disgusting,” he muttered.
“Practical, just as you used to be. Lack of alcohol has dulled your edge.”
Marc shook his head. “It’s made me human.”
The trustee shrugged. “You just see to it that Lillian suffers an unfortunate accident or I will. And just who do you think they’ll blame when she dies? Her uncle, of course,” he said without missing a beat. “After all, your
An old rage raced through Marc as he recalled the years of dealing with this man. Whenever Marc needed money, he’d have to go through Paul. Marc had asked Paul for money years before, and the other man had complied, using the interest in Lilly’s trust account. Marc had paid Florence Benson with the money. It was no wonder the other man made it a point to find out what Marc had needed the money for.
Beneath his suit, Marc broke into a heated sweat and the desire for a drink to numb the pain was all- consuming.
“I really need to be going. No need to make a decision now. You can get back to me. Lilly’s birthday isn’t for a few weeks.” Paul patted Marc condescendingly on the back.
Marc shrugged off his touch.
“If you remain a good boy, you can console yourself with the fact that you won’t have to go through alcohol withdrawal in jail. That wouldn’t be pleasant at all.” Paul turned and headed for his car, settling himself inside and starting the engine.
He waved as if they’d had a social visit, then pulled down the long driveway, leaving Marc alone to ponder his fate which looked bleaker by the minute.
Marc was cornered and the bastard knew it. All choices led to the same result. He could do as Paul asked and never be able to look himself in the mirror again-which probably wouldn’t matter since he’d end up in jail-or he’d wind up there anyway thanks to Paul Dunne’s so-called proof and the other man’s stellar reputation in the community.
“Damn.” He kicked his foot against his tire, accomplishing little perhaps except breaking his toe.
He winced at the throbbing pain and slowly walked to the house. At one time, the mansion had represented everything he’d wanted out of life. Today the old house merely stood as glaring proof of what jealousy of his brother had done to Marc’s life. How ironic, now that he could no longer stand to look at the place, he was destined to get his wish and lose the house and a whole lot more.
Unless he could find a way to outwit Paul Dunne. It was either that or cave in to his demands. What a choice, Marc thought. Unfortunately it was nothing more than he deserved.
Twelve
Later that night, Ty stood behind the bar at Night Owl’s, filling in for Rufus so he could go to his son’s Back to School night. The place filled quickly and he appreciated how many people remembered Lilly and stopped to talk to her, making her feel welcome. He was glad she didn’t have time to think about trust funds, her uncle, or someone trying to hurt her for at least a few hours.
When his cell phone rang, he glanced down and saw Derek’s number. He picked up, told Derek to hang on, then turned to the other regular bartender. “Hey, Mike. Hold down the fort for a minute, will you?”
The guy nodded, freeing Ty up to take the call. He glanced at Lilly who was deep in conversation with Molly. Certain she was in good hands for a little while, Ty walked into the hall and closed himself in the quiet back office.
“What’s up?” he asked Derek.
“I think we got ourselves a break.” The other man’s excitement hummed through the cellular lines. “Dumont had a visitor around 11:30 this morning.”
Ty seated himself on the top of Derek’s old desk. “Finally. Who was it?” he asked, his own adrenaline
