CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Miner felt like he was in a scene from The Godfather. Joe Doyle brooded behind his desk. Norman Davie leaned against the credenza, his eyes never leaving Michelle, who paced the office, phone against her ear. Chris sat on the couch, near the door.
“Eddie’s not answering.” She stared at her phone. “He’s probably in the middle of Houston traffic. He’ll call when he gets there.” She glared at Miner. “McBride seriously thinks I killed my brother?”
“Of the suspects, you’re at the top of his list.”
“Who are the other suspects?” Chris asked.
“The other three people who don’t have an alibi.”
Michelle threw up her hands. “Who are …?”
“There’s a limit, Michelle.”
She walked toward Miner. “Oh, really? How does your wife like her pain meds, huh? Because I can make sure she never gets another Oxycontin in her life.”
“Do that and I’ll make sure Jack and Sheriff Newberry know everything I know about your little organization.”
“Little organization? You don’t know shit.”
“Pollard told me more than you think.”
Michelle laughed. “Pollard thinks you’re an idiot.”
“Sure you want to take that chance?”
“Enough,” Joe said. “Why does McBride like Michelle for this?”
“No one else has a motive. Except Brian Grant.”
“What exactly is my motive?”
“Daddy issues.”
Michelle’s laughter was harsh. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Daddy issues?” Doyle said. “That’s what McBride is basing his case on?”
Michelle turned to her father, a bit of the tension easing out of her. “He’s got nothing. When Eddie gets back, he’ll confirm my alibi, and McBride will have to move on to someone else or have to look into his brother for it, which he won’t do.”
“Did Eddie do it?” Miner asked.
“No. And neither did I,” Michelle said.
“Who were you with?” Miner asked.
Michelle pursed her lips. “With Eddie, like I said.”
“Why didn’t you tell Jack the truth from the beginning?”
“Because I thought my husband would be my alibi.”
“Maybe next time give me a heads up on what lies I’m supposed to tell,” Chris said.
Michelle rolled her eyes. “Don’t you have a golf game or something?”
“Already played.” Chris stood. “I’ll get the kids to Matt and Amy’s visitation. You obviously don’t need me to plot world domination.”
“I don’t need you for anything,” Michelle mumbled. Chris walked out, seemingly oblivious.
“Michelle, you’ve really fucked this all up.”
Michelle rounded on her father, her face a mask of indignation. “What? I haven’t done anything!”
“Two dead Mexicans and Matt and Amy.”
“How are either my fault? I never had a meeting with the Pedrozas. It takes time for Kyle to go through his channels. It’s not like I have them on fucking speed dial.”
“Watch your language, young woman.”
Michelle clammed up, but her face turned beet red.
“Where is Kyle?” Doyle said.
“He’s dead,” Michelle said.
Doyle’s expression was like granite. “How do you know?”
“When they were dealing with Muldoon, Kyle went after Eddie, and Eddie killed him.”
“Did he?”
“I can’t hear this,” Davie said.
“Then leave,” Michelle shot back. “You’re fucking useless anyway.”
“Michelle!” Doyle roared. He stood and walked around the desk. He loomed over his daughter. Miner admired Michelle for not looking cowed, but he suspected the strength it took for her to stand toe to toe with Joe. “Did you see the body?”
Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Whose body? Kyle’s?”
“Yes.” Doyle’s derision-filled voice made Michelle flinch.
“No.”
“Then how do you know he’s dead?” Doyle’s eyes never left his daughter’s. “Miner, do the Feds have an undercover agent in our organization?”
“Yes.”
Michelle’s head twisted around to Miner. “Don’t you think you should have told me that when I gave you the big fucking bag of pills?”
Miner shrugged. “I’m telling you now.”
Michelle lunged for Miner, but Doyle caught her. “Don’t blame him for your incompetence.”
“Me?”
“You’ve been too busy spreading your legs for Eddie McBride to see who he really is.”
“That’s not true.”
Doyle still gripped Michelle’s arms. “You even fucked him in my office, haven’t you?” Michelle recoiled, but Doyle held her fast. “Where’d you do it? My chair? My desk?”
“You’re hurting me.”
“You’ve always been a slut, just like your mother.”
Michelle’s head jerked back, as if slapped.
Miner stepped forward. “Joe, that’s enough. Eddie’s not the narc.”
“Who is?”
“I honestly don’t know. McBride doesn’t even know.”
Doyle pushed Michelle away from him. She stumbled back and turned her back to the men, wiping at her eyes.
“You better find out, tonight, Miner, or I’ll go and take those pills from Teresa myself. And I’ll make sure no doctor within a hundred miles writes her a prescription for a fucking aspirin.”
Composure regained, Michelle turned on her father. “You son of a bitch. I was setting up the truce with the Pedrozas for you! Get rid of McBride, crime goes down, you’re the fucking town hero, and we grow our business without competition. Then, your golden child caught us at the yard Saturday night and was oh so shocked his wonderful, upstanding father would be involved in something so amoral.” The derision in Michelle’s voice dripped from every word like syrup. “I didn’t kill your pussy of a son, but I’m not sad he’s dead.”
Miner saw the blow and watched Michelle fall to the floor in slow motion. Davie knelt beside Michelle immediately. Miner was too stunned to speak, let alone move.
Davie helped Michelle stand on shaky feet. She brushed him off roughly. Davie’s face hardened, reddened, and he stepped next to Doyle, whose granite expression was tinged in red, whether in anger or embarrassment, Miner wasn’t sure. Michelle’s chest heaved and she touched the angry red welt rising on her cheek.
“Y’all are ignoring the real problem,” Miner said. “McBride has evidence putting Michelle at the murder-arson crime scene.”
“That’s as much bullshit as me killing my brother.” She glared at her father.
“Maybe, but it’s enough to get a warrant.”
“There’s nothing to find.”
“You better hope not.”
Doyle finally turned to Miner. “It doesn’t matter,” Doyle said, “because Miner will make whatever they find disappear. Won’t you, Miner?”
Miner thought of Teresa at home, pain free for the first time in weeks. Of his promise to Jack that he would tell him everything the Doyles asked him to do, account for every cent they gave him. Lucky for Miner, Michelle paid him in pain pills.
The answer rolled off his tongue easily.
“Yes.”