Beth smiled, her face lighting up. “Good, because I have about two thousand square feet of bamboo flooring to put in.”
Bo groaned. He got the feeling there would be a whole lot of home improvement work in his future. “Let’s get this done.”
He took the porch steps two at a time and opened the front door, allowing Beth and Shelley to enter. The women walked into the front hall, chatting about stained concrete and how to best knock out the wall between the office and the kitchen.
“Stop.” Bo’s heart raced as he heard the sound. It was quiet, but the floor above them creaked with an unmistakable pattern. Someone was walking on the second floor. And it wasn’t Trev.
Bo put a finger to his mouth. Beth’s eyes widened, and Shelley reached for her hand. “Stay here.”
As quietly as he could, he walked up the stairs, sticking to the side where there was less chance of a creak alerting whoever was upstairs to his presence. He wasn’t taking any chances this time. He held his rifle, his finger on the trigger. It was just like hunting, he told himself. Patience would win the day.
“Fuck.” Bo heard the soft curse and the frustration behind it. Bryce Hughes was here. Trev had been right, but Bo would be the one to figure out the mystery. He intended to call in the police, but not until he had a few questions answered for himself.
“Come on, come on. Barry, you were such a fucker. Goddamn it. If I could kill you twice, I would.”
Bryce sounded past desperate. The words came out of his mouth in a harsh whisper, as though the dead man could hear him speaking from beyond the grave. Bryce had killed his partner? Barry Bellows had died in a car accident, and no one in Deer Run had really looked much past that fact. Had Bryce set up that little accident? What the hell was he looking for in Beth’s bedroom? It sounded like he was tearing the place apart.
Bo eased up to the second-floor landing and onto the carpet runner. He could move a little more freely. Bryce was making enough noise for both of them. The door to Beth’s bedroom was open, and even from his vantage point, Bo could see that Bryce had been hard at work. Beth’s pretty comforter was on the floor, feathers from the pillows littering the hallway. Bryce stood in the center of the room with a sledgehammer. He pulled it over his head, the wall that separated the bedroom from the bathroom his obvious target.
“Stop right there.” Bo wasn’t about to let this asshole start tearing out walls. That was Beth’s job.
Bryce stopped, staring at the rifle aimed solidly at his chest. The sledgehammer fell to the floor with a crack. Bryce turned, his normally perfect hair disheveled. His lower lip was busted, blood oozing onto his chin. One eye was swollen. It looked like a purple egg had made a nest of his face. “I have to find it.”
“What?”
“They’re going to kill me if I don’t find it. It has to be here. Why else would Barry have come here? He hated that old bitch. He fucking couldn’t stand her. He hid it here, the bastard. I built this business. I was the one with the contacts. He had no right to hold out on me. He tried to fucking blackmail me. No one blackmails Bryce Hughes. I showed him. I showed him.”
Bo took a deep breath. Bryce Hughes seemed to have found that “edge” everyone talked about, and he’d gone straight over in a happy swan dive. “I think we need to go downstairs and wait for the sheriff.”
Bryce’s head sagged. “No cops. Cops won’t stop them. I have to find it. Fuck. I have to find it or we’re all dead. You’re an idiot. You should never have walked in here. You’re supposed to be at Aidan’s. Shelley said she was meeting you all out at Aidan’s for the afternoon. Now we’re all dead.”
“Bo?” Beth’s soft voice nearly made Bo’s heart stop. He turned, ready to yell at her to get her ass out of here and take Shelley with her.
Beth and Shelley stood in the doorway, their faces sheet white.
“Beth?”
“You told me I had to tell you the next time someone tried to kill me.” Her voice was strained, a tight whisper. “Well, someone’s ready to kill me again.”
“I told you he’d kill us all.” Bryce shrank back.
Bo turned and saw an immaculately dressed man. He was roughly six foot three and wore an air of disdain, as though the world always disappointed him. He also carried a .45 in his gloved hand, pointed straight at the back of Beth’s head. His other hand was on her arm, keeping her close to his body. Beth was his shield.
“I just need a little more time. It’s here,” Bryce insisted.
The man with the gun shook his head. “You made a deal with my employer. You took my employer’s cash in exchange for your products. You set yourself up as a distributor. No one forced you to do that, Mr. Hughes. But we do expect to get what we paid for. I want the drugs now. We’ve been more than patient. It’s been months. You, put down the gun or I’ll shoot both of the women. I assume at least one of them is yours.”
Bo let the rifle drop. Roxanne wasn’t going to help him out now. Terror threatened to claw at his insides. One slip of that man’s finger and Beth’s life would be over. His life would be over.
“Look, mister, I can see you have some business with Bryce here. I can’t stand the man, myself. Why don’t you let me take the women, and you can conclude this transaction in private?” He was pretty sure it wouldn’t work, but he had to try.
“Call me Carlo. I think we’re going to be friends, Mr. O’Malley. Yes, I know all the players in this sad little town. My employer pays me very well to keep up with everything. Including his product. You see, Mr. Hughes here started out as a small-time meth dealer. I believe your employees work out of a trailer park in another town.”
“Bryce, what is he talking about?” Shelley’s hands shook.
“Shut up, Shelley. This isn’t any of your business.”
Carlo chuckled, though the sound was slightly sinister to Bo’s ears. “It is your business, darling. He used your business to do an enormous amount of our work. He’s laundered money through it. He’s gotten us some incredibly interesting information with which to blackmail certain politicians. It isn’t easy to get drugs over the border these days. It certainly helps to have a few, shall we say, influential people in our pockets. You weren’t aware of the hidden cameras you placed in your clients’ offices when you redecorated? I can see not. It was probably smart of you to keep your little wife out of it, Hughes. Now, Mr. O’Malley, get to your knees, please, and allow Mrs. Hughes to use the zip ties I carry around for just such an occasion. It’s really shocking how often I find the need to tie people up in my line of business.”
Bo felt his whole body harden, every muscle screaming for him to not allow this to happen.
“I wouldn’t play the hero, Mr. O’Malley. You might be able to take me down, but not before I kill her. The instant I see you move, I will put a bullet through her brain. Is that an acceptable outcome? Do you not believe that I will kill someone? I think you need a demonstration of my willpower. Mr. Hughes, as you obviously can’t even manage to properly search a home, I have no further use for you.”
Bo watched in utter horror as the gun in Carlo’s hand moved slightly and he fired, the discharge pounding through the small room with the force of a grenade. Beth screamed, trying to put her hands to her ears, but Carlo held fast. Shelley stood in shocked terror.
And Bryce Hughes stood in the middle of the room, perfectly still for a moment, as though frozen in time. Then blood bloomed from the neat hole in his forehead. He tottered, as though his body wasn’t sure which way to fall. It seemed to take forever for him to find the floor. All the while, Bryce stared out, his eyes as blank as a doll’s. He hit the floor, and time seemed to speed up again.