Liam sat back and rubbed his eyes. They felt swollen, coated in lead. He glanced at the separate packet of papers that lay to the left of everything else on the small table. Suzie’s policy. He stared at the number on the paper. He knew why she’d done it, but her kindness was now a curse. Phelps would gain access to their records, if he hadn’t already. He would see the policy, and it would be a klaxon going off, a neon arrow pointing to Liam as a suspect. The rumblings of anxiety constricted his chest, but there was something else there too. A warm flame of pride, soured only by grief at the thought of Suzie going behind Allen’s back to make sure he would be taken care of if anything happened to them.
“She was too good for you, asshole,” Liam said to the empty hotel room.
The sudden chime of his phone made him jerk, and when he looked at the screen, he saw that the number was unavailable again.
“Hello?”
“Liam, this is Sheriff Barnes. Could you come by the station sometime today?”
“Of course. Has there been a development?”
Barnes hesitated. “Nothing groundbreaking, just something I thought you’d like to see.”
“Okay, I can be there in ten minutes.”
“Good. Hit the buzzer near the back entrance and I’ll let you in.” The sheriff hung up.
Liam stood, ready to head out of the room, but he paused. After a few seconds of thought, he reached into the bottom of his bag and found the hard angles of the Sig, softened by the holster hugging it. He undid his belt and threaded it through the concealment holster. The holster molded to his lower back on the inside of his jeans and when he tightened his belt, he could barely feel the weight of the gun there.
With a flip of his T-shirt and a quick check to make sure the handgun wasn’t visible, Liam turned off the lights and left the room.
Liam approached the rear door of the station, the clouds overhead expanding with bloated bellies that spoke of a deluge. There were two squad cars parked in the rear lot, along with a late-model Land Cruiser. Liam eyed the shiny vehicle as he passed it, noting the severely tinted windows and the chrome spokes within the rims. He was just about to push the round button mounted beside the door when it opened from within and the sheriff’s deputy he’d seen at his brother’s home the day before stepped outside.
The young law officer recoiled and rolled his eyes as he exhaled. “Wow, you scared the hell out of me.”
Liam smiled. “Sorry, the sheriff told me to ring the button.”
The deputy nodded, holding the door open for him. “No problem, go ahead. He’s in a meeting, might have to wait a minute.”
“Thanks,” Liam said, slipping past him, out of the dingy light of the day and into the stark fluorescent glow of the jail. As soon as the door shut behind him, he heard a raised voice down the hall. It didn’t sound like Barnes, and Liam walked as quietly as he could toward the closed door of the sheriff’s office. Gradually, the words became less garbled and more distinct.
“You do realize the importance of this project, Sheriff?”
“Yes, of course I do, and I’ll do my best to impress it upon the agents handling the cases, but with all due respect, Mr. Haines, there has been loss of life. A construction project doesn’t really come into play during a murder investigation.”
Liam leaned against the wall to one side of the sheriff’s office and tilted his head to hear the conversation better.
“I can say, on behalf of Colton Incorporated, that we are very sorry for the town’s losses, but the amount of financial backing that is riding on the town’s vote next week is quite substantial.”
“I don’t know what else to tell you, Mr. Haines. There’s been concern raised and people are scared. It will be up to the city council whether there will be a postponement of the vote,” Barnes said. The old man’s voice was gruff and bland, without emotion or energy. “We’re doing all we can.”
There was a long pause, and Liam stepped away from the door as he saw the handle begin to turn.
“Just see that you keep us updated.”
The door opened completely, and Liam was ready for it. He took a step forward as though he were only just now walking down the hallway, and nearly bumped into a man in a black button-up shirt and gray slacks.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Liam said, and stepped out of the man’s way.
Haines had wide shoulders, which he held back in a stiff posture, his chest thrown out. He looked to be a few years older than Liam and was clean-shaven, his features angular, with a knitted black brow that almost formed a line over his squinting eyes.
Haines sized up Liam for a split second, and then pushed past him without a word. Liam stepped into the sheriff’s doorway and watched the other man until he disappeared through the rear entry.