CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Eddie pulled into Doyle Industries truck yard at 7:30 p.m. His timing was perfect. He’d run home, take a shower, and get to Ellie’s before nine. He would have an hour to talk her into meeting Jack out at her lake house. He had no idea how difficult a job it would be. With a pregnancy, the election, downtown development, her new business, trying to lure new businesses downtown, Eddie was afraid Ellie was at the end of her rope.

Doyle Industries was deserted. Eddie was relieved. Michelle had been calling and texting him all day. He’d have to come up with a pretty creative lie as to why he didn’t reply. Say he lost his phone and didn’t realize it was gone until he pulled in. He’d put the metal down to make it back before visitation ended so he wouldn’t run into Michelle.

The company was closed the next day, out of respect for Matt and Amy. The drugs would be safe in the wheel wells until the following night, after Matt and Amy were buried, and condolences were received. Then business could return to normal.

Too bad for Michelle that Tom Hunter planned to raid Doyle Industries at dawn.

Eddie jumped from the cab and closed the door. A few weeks more and he would be done with this life forever. It was hard to believe he’d been doing it long enough to get a pension from the government. It would be enough money for him to live on and take some time to figure out what he wanted to do. First thing on his agenda was getting his Harley back from Abe. He’d missed it more than he thought he would. Then maybe he’d take it across the country. Hit some national parks. Do some camping. Be alone. God, he wanted to be alone. He was sick of people, but more importantly, he needed to figure out who exactly Sean Edward McBride Junior was. He laughed. Maybe he should ask Julie for advice on how to take a sabbatical.

She’d probably want to go with him.

Eddie almost threw up at the thought. Sure, she was a good lay, but she was totally, 100 percent fucked in the head as well. Which made her his type, he knew. But he didn’t want that type. He didn’t want anyone. At least not yet.

Eddie twirled his keys around his finger as he walked to his ’69 Ford. It was a great truck. He had some money saved. He’d buy a new Harley and keep this. Decision made, he rolled the truck yard gate closed and locked it. He turned around and almost ran into Brian Grant.

“Shit, Grant. You scared me to death.”

The security light back lit Grant’s face, throwing it in shadow. “Did I? Sorry.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For going to bat for me with Michelle. She gave me a job.”

“Well, good. How’s Susan’s hand?”

“Good. Things are looking up.”

“Glad to hear it, Brian. Michelle’s a good boss.”

“Oh, I’m not working for Michelle.”

“But you just said.”

“She thinks I am, but I’m not. Or, I won’t be tomorrow when she’s arrested for Matt and Amy’s murder.”

“Who are you working for?”

“Me.”

Eddie turned his head to follow the voice and, too late, saw out of the corner of his eye a brass knuckle–covered fist rushing toward his temple.