Nicco wiped his hands against his cargo pants as he squinted to see through the darkening shadows.
The Daniels estate sprawled over hundreds of acres. Famed for its antebellum origins, it had the reputation of being a showplace. He wished he had an idea of the layout of the grounds, of spots where snipers might be placed, of security measures.
With the Rangers, he’d often relied on HUMINT. Human intelligence was considered the most reliable by the military. While analysts could speculate and hypothesize what might happen in any given situation, having someone on the ground was far preferable.
But he didn’t have that advantage now.
He had performed countless missions, his hands dry, his heartbeat steady. Now his palms were wet, his heart racing. He could smell his own stink, the stink of fear. It oozed from every pore. For a man who had fought and, yes, killed for his country, fearless in the most dire circumstances, it was a rude awakening to discover that he was as human as the next.
He’d failed to protect Ruth when she’d needed him. What made him think he’d do any better the second time around? He thought of Scout and her unflinching courage. It was one of the reasons he loved her as he did. It also terrified him. Because he loved her.
She knew him inside and out. She knew about the scars he would always bear because of Ruth and the two men who’d died on his watch. With quiet understanding, she saw beyond all the barriers he’d put up to the raw wounds beneath and then ignored them to offer him grace.
He’d shared his deepest secrets with her, some he hadn’t even confided in his family. He rationalized that with the thought that he didn’t want to burden his parents and his brothers and sisters with the pain he bore, but the honest part of his brain mocked the lie.
It was Scout, and only Scout. Scout who saw through his carefully constructed defenses. Scout who, with only a touch, managed to soothe away long-held pain. Scout who gave of herself so easily that she wasn’t even aware of it.
He’d let her down when he ordered her off the case. He wouldn’t let her down again.
* * *
Gerald Daniels looked down at where Scout was bound to a chair.
Despite her best efforts to mask her suspicions, he’d seen through her. Less than five minutes after she’d been escorted into the walnut paneled library, he had ordered two men, the same two who had attacked Nicco and Scout in the alley, to tape her to a chair.
“Back at the office, I was afraid you’d put it together. I saw it in your face. You saw the picture. Me and Lennie. I should’ve gotten rid of it years ago, but that was the game where we won the state championship.
“You knew what it meant.”
She gave up the pretense of not understanding the picture’s significance. “You and Crane. I didn’t want to believe that you were involved, but you were in it the whole time.”
“Of course I was. I like you, Scout. Always have. That was why I tried to warn you, to make you see sense and give up the story. But you were as stubborn as always.”
“You tried to have me killed.”
“If I’d wanted you dead, you’d be dead already.” The bald statement was given without any apology. “The shooting, the beams falling, the thugs trying to take you out—Crane was responsible for those. He never could do anything right. I sent the letters to you to warn you away. Why didn’t you listen? We could have avoided all this if you had paid attention, but, no, you had to keep investigating.”
Scout felt disgust settle in the place of disbelief. “You have to know you won’t get away with this.” She winced at the hackneyed words. She was a writer. Couldn’t she come up with something more original?
Apparently Daniels thought so as well for he made a tsking sound. “That’s pathetic.”
Inwardly, she agreed, but she kept her chin raised. “I’m not the only one who knows about you.”
“Who else have you told?”
She didn’t answer that. “Why don’t you let me go and we’ll go to the authorities together?” It was a desperate ploy, one she didn’t expect to work. She was stalling. Daniels knew it, too.
“Your material needs work.” His laugh was full of derision. “I knew a Girl Scout like you wouldn’t back off. I gave you fair warning, and you chose to ignore it.”
“How can you do this?”
For the first time, regret moved into Daniels’s eyes. “I have to look out for number one.”
Scout stared at him. The callousness of the statement shouldn’t have shocked her, but it did. She’d been deceived in the worst way possible. Keep him talking.
“Why? Why all this? Why throw away everything?”
“The oldest reason in history. Money. Lots and lots of money.”
“You have more money than you’ll ever spend.”
“There’s never enough money.”
“When did it happen? Deciding to chuck everything you ever believed in and become someone you don’t even recognize?”
“You’re a fool. You know that, right?”
“A fool because I wanted the truth? Isn’t that the paper’s motto?”
“A naive fool,” Daniels continued as if she hadn’t interrupted. “Truth can be shaped. It can be finessed to say whatever I want it to say. It can even be bought. The way I see it, I can buy myself a whole lot of truth with one sweet operation.”
Instead of feeling triumphant or even satisfied that her suspicions about Daniels had been confirmed, she felt only an unbearable sadness. She looked at him now and saw a man betrayed by his own weakness.
“The way I see it, you sold your soul. And for what? Money you don’t need?”
“Survival. The paper’s bleeding money. Why do you think I haven’t hired any new reporters in over a year?”
She knew the paper was losing money. She also knew he had more than enough funds to keep the paper afloat, but she played along. “If things are so bad, how are you keeping it going?”
“A nice big cash influx from a private party.”
That made sense when she remembered one of his maxims: never use your own money when you could use someone else’s. Despite his wealth, Daniels was notoriously cheap, both in his personal and professional life. The office joke was that he would steal the bark from a dog if he could find a way.
“Let me guess who that private party is. Patrice Newtown.”
Consternation darkened his eyes. “Like you say, you’re guessing.”
“Am I? Those papers I brought you? They told the story. From there, it didn’t take much to figure out that Newtown was in cahoots with Crane. The only one I wasn’t sure about was you.”
“Now you know.”
“Now I know.” But there was no triumph in her words, only regret.
“Then there’s Christine.” The plaintive note in Daniels’s tone snagged Scout’s attention.
“What about her?” Scout had met Daniels’s wife, Christine, at a Christmas party and thought her a nice if ineffectual woman.
“Christine’s an addict. Has been for years. I tried my best to get her into a rehab program, but couldn’t find one that didn’t make my skin crawl. Newtown’s connections let me get her into a first-class place.”
“I’m sorry. For her. And for you. But that doesn’t excuse what you’ve done. What you plan to do.” She gentled her voice. “There are other ways to help her. Ways that don’t involve murder.”
“What would you know about it? You ever loved someone who’s an addict?”
Scout sympathized with his situation, but something in his tone rang false. He was lying to her even now. She looked for any glimpse of the man she’d known for five years and saw only a stranger. Even if the paper failed, he had money and power aplenty, but it wasn’t enough.
Though Scout went silent, her mind was churning. Appealing to her onetime friendship with Daniels hadn’t worked, but that didn’t mean she was beaten. She’d survived witnessing the murder of her parents. She’d survive this as well.
“You really think she’s going to split it with you. Newtown is used to calling the shots.”
“Patrice is so wrapped up in her own ego that she won’t even notice she’s been moved out. By the time she realizes she’s been cut out of the deal, it’ll be too late.”
“You sure about that?” Newtown didn’t seem like the kind of woman to be cut out of anything. She liked to call the shots.
“For all her talk about empire-building, she’s still a woman. That means she’s weak. And foolish.”
“I wouldn’t sell Newtown short. What makes you think she’ll keep you around once this is all done? You’re an errand boy, nothing more. Like Crane.” She let that sink in. “To think I looked up to you. I was a fool.”
“You got that right.”
Scout kept her head high. No way would she allow Daniels to see that she was terrified. “I’m sorry for you,” she said, meaning it.
“You’re the one who’s tied up and waiting to die.”
“I’m the one who believes in something more than myself. You’ll never have that. No matter how rich you are, how much richer you’ll get, you’ll never know the joy that comes from believing in something bigger than yourself and from acting out of integrity instead of greed.”
“Oh, I believe in something bigger than myself all right, like controlling the biggest gunrunning operation this side of the Mississippi.” Daniels’s left eye twitched, a tell he had often bemoaned. “And if you don’t shut up right now, I’ll tape your mouth shut. See how that’ll feel.”
“What happened?” she asked softly. “When did you lose yourself?”
And then the answer walked in.
Patrice Newtown, bandbox fresh, waved a hand in dismissal of the question. “Around the same time that he discovered the joy of having more money than he ever dreamed of.”
“Looks like you took the old saying of ‘charity begins at home’ to heart, Duchess,” Scout said.
Newtown laughed in what Scout supposed to be delight. “Gerald told me that you were quick. He was right.” She let her gaze wander from Daniels to Scout and back to Daniels. “Did he tell you that tired story about needing help for Christine?” She didn’t give Scout time to answer. “Christine left him as soon as she got clean. She couldn’t wait to get away from him. She was repulsed by what he’d become.”
Scout nodded in confirmation of her earlier suspicions that Daniels had been lying to her regarding his wife.
“Patrice…” Daniels began.
Newtown cut him off. “Go back to whatever you were doing. Ms. McAdams and I have some talking to do.”
Daniels left but not without one last look at Scout. She thought she saw a hint of apology in his eyes, but it was immediately extinguished.
Newtown pressed a button at the side of the desk and within seconds, a man appeared. She gave one short nod.
Less than a minute later, Scout heard a muffled shot followed by a thud. “You had him killed. Just like that.”
“Dear old Gerald was falling apart. He barely kept it together when we had to kill Crane. He was weak. Like most men.” Newtown directed a bored look at Scout. “You could have saved yourself and the rest of us a lot of trouble if you’d left it alone.”
Scout ignored Newtown’s taunt in favor of recalling one of her favorite scriptures and letting it echo in her mind. Have I not commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.
She tried to bolster her courage, but it was definitely sagging. Lord, I’m tied up and waiting for a couple of killers to come for me. What am I supposed to do now?
Newtown thought she was in charge. She didn’t know Nicco and what he could do. More important, she didn’t know what the Lord could do.
Right now, Scout was pinning her hopes on both of them.