It was particularly sinister for Brian White, who’d had individual conversations with all of the conspirators besides Redding. They all expressed their desire to split the trio and go forward, either alone, or with one other. Both Charlie and Asher implied they wanted each other eliminated. Anna wanted to be rid of Charlie and Asher by exposing their connection by leaking it to the media. She would then use Tyler Redding as the new face of the movement. As she had with Asher, she would use to her wiles to keep him under her control.
Essentially, the three of them had made him the de facto kingmaker. They could either continue to trudge along together, or they could cede some power to White to gain his loyalty. With Travis Snedley gone, Brian White was the only person that could break their triumvirate and set only one of them up in power. Charlie, Asher, and Anna discussed their future plans, but it was all playacting. White knew that all of them were ready to dissolve their union.
Essentially, they decided they would stay the course through the summer. Once autumn arrived, they would implement new policies. The elephant in the room—one that was not discussed—was whether David Asher would run for another term. Unbeknownst to Asher, he was the only one who thought this was a good idea. Everyone else in the room knew that he would be gone after three years, if not sooner.
White watched the continuing conversation with rapt attention—not to hear what was being planned, but to determine which person would be his best bet going forward. By the time the meeting concluded, Brian White still hadn’t decided who would become the future power in Blue Creek. He would give them a chance to make their case to him, knowing they would all approach him again before long.
It was an unseasonably warm day in May. Anna had to turn on the air conditioning in her car to fight the heat. She was stopped at a red light, mindlessly tapping her fingers on her steering wheel to a song she’d never heard. She hated traffic lights and thought that maybe she should talk Asher into taking all of them out of Blue Creek. She chuckled to herself at this thought. Her mind turned to the meeting that she and Asher and Charlie had held a few days before, and the good humor left her. Against her better judgment she’d invited Tyler Redding. Asher had gotten very upset about that, to the point that the governor and his former opponent almost came to blows.
She shook her head, still tapping her fingers along to the music. The light finally turned green. Without looking, she hit the gas and drove into the intersection. She sensed motion in her peripheral vision, but didn’t even have time to react. The dump truck struck with astonishing force, nearly splitting Anna’s car in two. Her seat was pushed up and over the console, on top of the passenger seat and almost through the passenger door. The truck’s front bumper broke through the driver’s window and struck her head directly.
The truck was much larger than Anna’s Toyota, but the force of the collision damaged the front axle enough that the truck would no longer steer. The driver, a pimply kid in a beanie cap and red windbreaker, bolted from the truck and tried to get away. An onlooker, initially shocked by the collision, gathered his wits in time to run the offender down and tackle him. He and another bystander restrained the assailant until authorities could arrive.
Another passerby who had witnessed the collision—who, coincidentally, worked as a nurse at the local health clinic—ran to the car to see if she could render assistance. She reached the car, but there was nothing she could do. The driver, barely recognizable as human, was clearly dead. His or her dark hair was matted with blood and brain tissue. The woman’s training gave way to the shock and she began screaming for someone to call for an ambulance. No ambulance would be needed, however. The morgue’s van was more suitable in this particular situation.
The meeting with the others had been extremely stressful. Tyler Redding retired to his favorite fishing spot. He came here when things got hard, or he felt lonely. Fishing was his favorite outdoor activity—nothing relaxed him more. Now, seemingly everything in his world was chaotic. At one time he was the heir apparent. Now he wasn’t sure where he stood in the pecking order. Anna wanted him to take over, unbeknownst to David Asher. Charlie also wanted Asher gone, but Tyler wasn’t sure who Charlie wanted to replace the governor. The plan had always been for Tyler to step in, but he got the impression that Charlie preferred Anna.
Anna was the driving force behind getting David Asher elected and keeping him in office. Tyler knew, however, that if and when Anna wanted a change, she would make it happen. She knew how to use her mind and her body to get what she wanted. She’d promised him the keys to the kingdom. Little did he know that his avenue to power had just been crushed by a dump truck. More unfortunate for him was the fact that his own death was seconds away.
As a young boy, Tyler loved watching nature shows, especially the ones about lions. Those enormous, yet sleek and powerful beasts, would lie hidden, nearly invisible in the tall yellow grass. Then suddenly, they would spring forward and run down a zebra or a wildebeest or some other unfortunate creature. Eventually the lion would tire them out and take them down.
And this scenario was similar. The hunter lay hidden in the grass, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on the unsuspecting prey. When Tyler exited the water and bent over to remove his waders, the man with the 9mm pistol stood out of his crouch and approached silently from behind. Without a word, the assassin got to within three paces and pulled the trigger, sending a hollow-pointed lead slug into the back of Tyler Redding’s head.
Two down, one to go.
The team tasked to follow Charlie Henry knew that he was a home body who rarely left his house. This created some advantages and disadvantages. Advantageous to them was the fact that they wouldn’t have to track him down or wait for the exact right place at the exact right time—they could just break in and get it down quickly and brutally. Or, they could wait until the lonely old bastard was asleep and go in and do the deed quietly. The bad part was that it would be much more difficult to make his death look accidental. Furthermore, it would be nearly impossible for them to dispose of his body. An “accidental death” wasn’t a necessity in this case.
When the killers entered Charlie’s house, they caught him lying in bed, watching the nightly news report. His former mistress had perished in an accident earlier that day. Luckily for them, he seemed to be very relaxed and docile, perhaps drunk or high. They entered his bedroom and stood quietly until he noticed them. When he saw the intruder who was standing closer to the bed, he was shocked at first, but then seemed to realize what was happening. It was almost as if he’d been expecting it.
“We’re going to give you a choice, Charlie,” the intruder closer to the bed said. He pulled a plastic bag out of his pants pocket and unrolled it. It contained a particularly high-grade, very pure heroin. “You can either shoot this up yourself, or we’ll go to work on you.”
Charlie sat up in bed, gasping for words that didn’t come.
“Trust me, old man, we’re good at keeping you alive while putting you through hell. We can make it last for hours. Like I say, it’s your choice.”
Charlie tried to swallow but couldn’t summon up enough saliva. He coughed, covering his mouth as his mother had taught him so long ago. It was true, he thought. Your life did kind of flash before your eyes when you knew you were going to die. But the reverie didn’t last long—he was snapped back into reality when one of the intruders placed his hand on Charlie’s shoulder.