Thirty-Six
West Duffy Street
Wednesday, November 2, 2:20 a.m.
“For God’s sake, Deidre, get in the car.” Hoyt Wilson shook his head.
His wife finally scooted into the passenger seat. “You know that police officer is going to follow us.”
“Let him follow us.” Hoyt rammed the vehicle into Drive. “Until they lock me up, I still have a business to run and I’m not leaving you here alone.”
“Don’t talk like that,” she whined. “You know how it makes me worry.”
His dear, dear wife. She had loved and depended on him all these years. Not once had she suspected their son’s death was his fault. He could not allow her to be hurt by this. This was his wrong, not hers.
“I don’t understand what couldn’t wait a few more hours,” she complained. “Nothing good ever happens at this hour.”
Hoyt grunted an agreement.
The security guard at the downtown store had called. There was something wrong in the office. The light was on and desk drawers were all open yet the door was locked, which prevented the guard from getting inside. He’d made a round at nine-thirty when the last of the store’s personnel had gone home and all had been as it should be. He’d found the same at his midnight rounds, but a few minutes ago he’d discovered an entirely different situation. He’d wanted to alert the police but Hoyt preferred to look into the matter personally first. This wouldn’t be the first time a thief had hidden in the store and then come out after closing expecting to rob the place. After that one incident Hoyt had hired a security guard to watch each of his supermarkets at night. Apparently the would-be thief had assumed the guard would take a nap, but Hoyt made sure the guards he hired understood sleeping on the job was not acceptable.
Deidre fumbled with her seat belt as they rolled onto the street. As she’d predicted, the police cruiser pulled out right behind them. Troy Durham had explained that the officer was for their protection. Rubbish! The boy just wanted to prove he could do what his daddy wouldn’t thirty-two years ago.
Maybe they should have been charged and jailed all those years ago. Maybe he should be in jail right now. Hoyt’s shoulders slumped as he drove through the darkness. He belonged in jail—he wouldn’t pretend otherwise. He was the only one left now of the original three who had hurt Lucille’s boy. Hurt. Ha! They had killed him. He had been lying on the ground and his chest hadn’t been going up and down. Like Edward, Hoyt hadn’t been about to get close enough to check his pulse. Watching him lie there, the reality of what they’d done had hit Hoyt. He’d wanted to call the police. He’d wanted to call for an ambulance but Wayne had ordered them both to go.
Just go! I’ll take care of this, you fucking cowards.
Hoyt had walked away first. Edward had done so right behind him. They’d left Wayne to do whatever was necessary to finish it...to clean up.
The whole mess was that bastard’s idea anyway. Wayne had always been the badass. He’d screwed around on his wife every chance he got until she paid him back in spades. He’d gone crazy when he found out. Hoyt was pretty sure he’d killed that man, too. Hell, he was the one who pushed them to take action against the Bonner boy. Thirty-two years had given Hoyt plenty of time to think and to form a far clearer perspective. Wayne had always wanted the Bonner boy out of the way. Hoyt knew he’d whored around with Lucille and maybe the boy was his. The two had certainly shared the same dark hair and green eyes. It wasn’t long after Lucille got pregnant that the Bonner man fell off that roof. Hoyt wouldn’t doubt that the two men had gotten into a fight and Wayne pushed him. If so, it was one thing Wayne had never bragged about. Maybe it was karma that the poor kid was born with brain damage. No matter how Wayne pretended, Hoyt and Edward knew what he’d done. Knew that mentally handicapped boy was most likely his.
Money covered all manner of evil.
Except with God. All the money in the world couldn’t protect any of them, not even Lucille Bonner, from what they had done.
He imagined they would have plenty of time in hell to ponder their sins.
Oscar Ortiz, the security guard on duty, met them at the front entrance of the store. The officer got out of his cruiser and headed that way, too.
Hoyt summoned his patience. “There’s an issue in the office. As soon as we’ve checked on the problem we’ll be right back out.”
Officer Reynolds, according to his name tag, gestured to the door. “I should come in with you.”
Hoyt lost his patience then. He held up a hand. “I can’t stop you from following us around or sitting outside our home or business, but if you want to come inside, get a warrant. Now let us do what we came here to do.”
“I’ll make sure they’re safe while they’re inside,” Oscar assured the officer.
Hoyt took Deidre by the arm and hurried inside. Oscar locked the door behind them. Officer Reynolds’s expression showed he didn’t like it, but keeping the door locked after closing was standard operating procedure. Before they walked away Hoyt saw the officer pull out his cell phone. Hoyt didn’t care who he called. This was his store and by God as long as he was still breathing, he had an obligation to oversee it properly. All the other stores had managers but not this one. This was the original family store. Hoyt’s father had managed it until the day he turned it over to Hoyt. He expected the same from his son.
The office was a modern glass-enclosed space at the back of the store. The first thing Hoyt had done when he took over the management was to remodel the old office. He’d done the same in all the stores. He wanted his employees and his customers to know that they mattered to him. Complete transparency.
If only he’d been able to be as transparent in his personal life.
“I’ll be right out here, Mr. Wilson,” Oscar said, “if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Oscar.” Hoyt searched his key ring. Where was his key? He checked his coat pockets. What the devil?
“Here.” Deidre thrust a key at him. “Use mine.”
Frustrated, Hoyt took the key and unlocked the door. Blood roaring in his ears, he passed Deidre’s key back to her and ushered her inside before closing the door. Out of habit his faithful wife locked the door behind them. Security personnel didn’t have access to this office. That wasn’t the case in the other stores, but Hoyt didn’t want anyone else touching his files or going through his desk. Employees and customers alike were welcome to look but no touching. It wasn’t that he really had anything to hide. Frankly, the one mistake he’d made all those years ago was the only time in his life he’d ever crossed the line—legal or otherwise. He hoped that would make some difference when judgment day came.
It won’t bring your little boy back. Or any of the others.
The pain in his chest that never truly went away deepened.
“Good heavens,” Deidre murmured. “What happened here?”
Hoyt shook off the haunting memories. He surveyed the mess. Drawers had been pulled open. Files had been scattered across the floor. There was nothing here for anyone to find. No hidden confession about the Bonner boy. No secrets at all. He took a deep breath, tried to slow his heart. He’d been upset when he left the store last night. Maybe he’d failed to lock the door and someone had hidden in here after closing. Hoyt turned and looked at the place on the wall next to the door where he kept his spare keys.
The bottom fell out of his stomach. The spare key to the office was missing. The door could not be opened from the outside or the inside without a key. So he had left it unlocked and whoever had hidden in here had used the spare key to lock out the security guard and then to relock the door when he was ready to leave.
But for what purpose? There was no money left in here at night. Then again, like most businessmen, he had his share of disgruntled ex-employees.
“I think someone’s trying to tell you something, Hoyt.”
“I don’t know what this is about,” he argued. “Let’s get this mess cleaned up.” These were his files. He didn’t want just anyone going through them. He knelt down and started to pick up the mess.
When Deidre didn’t answer him or join him, he turned to see the reason.
His wife waved to him from outside the door. He stood and moved toward her, tried to open the door but it was locked. He frowned. What was she doing?
Deidre pointed to something behind him. Hoyt turned around and saw Shelia Cotton standing outside the glass on the other side of the office. What on earth was Shelia doing here? She was dressed all in black.
Uncertainty prickled on his skin. “Dear God.” Hoyt reached for his cell phone.
It was missing. He’d lost it yesterday and hadn’t been able to find it anywhere at the house or here at the store.
“Where the hell is Oscar?” Hoyt rushed to the desk and picked up the phone. No dial tone.
What on earth was going on here? He turned back to his wife. “Deidre!”
She only stared at him. He looked around beyond the glass walls that were now his prison. Where was Shelia? Then he spotted her legs. She stood on a ladder, her upper body out of sight.
This was insane! He surveyed the store beyond the office. It was dark save for the minimal lights left on for security purposes. Where in God’s name was Oscar? A sound overhead stopped him. His gaze shifted upward, roved over the suspended ceiling until he saw the source of the noise. A single acoustic tile had been moved aside.
“What the hell?”
The scent of gasoline hit his nostrils before the sound of it splashing on the floor pierced his senses. It splattered on his clothes, poured across the tiled floor.
Hoyt dove for the desk. From the corner of his eyes he saw the wad of fire fall from the ceiling and then there was a whoosh.
He frantically surveyed the glass walls. Deidre and Shelia had disappeared... Where was Oscar?
Screaming echoed in his ears...his screams.