Catherine Maruyama slumped in Adam Kubiac’s car, fifty feet from the door of Hunters Supply and Range. Adam had been inside for forty minutes. He emerged a minute later, his arms full. He put packages in the trunk and slipped into the passenger’s seat.
“Did you get, uh … what you wanted?” she asked.
“An Ambush 300 Blackout rifle, ammo, an ATN Arrow 6—”
“Arrow?”
“A night-vision rifle sight. So I can shoot in the dark. Plus I got a suppressor—”
“What’s that?”
“It reduces the sound of the shot a whole lot. It’s more like a loud cough. It’s expensive stuff; I’m almost out of money.”
“You were in there so long I got afraid.”
“I used the range to try out the equipment. I saw Cottrell’s lying face on every target.”
“Adam, are you really going to—”
Kubiac spun to Maruyama, his features a rictus of anger. “All my life people have been screwing me over like I’m some little bitch. It’s gonna end. Hashtag: hadenough.” Kubiac pulled his cellphone from the pocket of his black jeans. “Time to sign the papers. You’re sure you can destroy them if I get you inside Cottrell’s office?”
Maruyama made the motion of flicking a lighter. “No biggie. I just take them somewhere and burn them.”
Kubiac phoned and Cottrell’s receptionist answered. “He’s on another line. I can have him call you back later today.”
“Tell him it’s Adam.”
Ten seconds later Cottrell was on the line. “Adam, it’s good to hear from you.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Excellent.”
Kubiac entered the lawyer’s office fifteen minutes later, Cottrell ushering him through the door like they were old friends. The receptionist was absent. They went to Cottrell’s office, papers centering the desk. Cottrell sat as Kubiac forced a fake yawn.
“Didn’t my father say you had a daughter, Jeffrey?”
A nod. “Sure. She’s not much older than you. She’s in Spokane studying to be a teacher.”
Kubiac made a show of looking across Cottrell’s desk and credenza.
“Cool. Got a picture of her?”
“Uh, no. I have one, but the cleaning lady knocked it over. Glass broke. I’m having it reframed.”
Kubiac kept his face even. “Oh. Too bad.”
Cottrell changed the subject. “Where’s your girlfriend, Adam?”
“We’re doing this one alone, Jeff. Just you and me. Why do you want to know?”
The lawyer shrugged and turned the documents to face Kubiac. “You want a few minutes to read the revised will and the, um, other instruments?”
“I trust you, Jeff,” Kubiac said sardonically. “Where’s this land I’m buying?”
“A few miles below the San Carlos Reservation, a great speculative deal.”
“It’s a shitload of sand in the middle of nowhere, Jeffrey. What’d you pay per acre? And what am I paying per acre?”
A tight eye from Cottrell. “I suggest you get used to our deal, Adam. Anger’s not going to help either of us.” Cottrell pushed the pages toward Kubiac and held out a pen.
Twenty minutes later Adam Kubiac was back at Maruyama’s apartment. “Cottrell rewrote the will?” she asked.
“I get everything. Greed-boy just has to file it with the probate court to make it official, and he says he’s doing that now.” He paused. “What if he fucks something up?”
“He won’t. He thinks he’s gonna get rich.”
Adam spun his car keys around his finger. “Jeff lives north of Scottsdale. The houses are far apart. I want to go look at the asshole’s place.”
“I better drive in case he goes home. He’s seen your car.”
Maruyama drove the pair in her blue Miata.
Adam turned from the window. “I was thinking … what happens when Cottrell’s dead, Cat? Like, what happens to Zoe? I mean Brenda. What if she goes to the police? She hasn’t seen me in a day. She texted for a while, then just stopped.”
“Why would she go to the cops? She’d have to implicate herself in a scheme to steal your money. Plus if we do it right, there’s no way you can be a suspect. And don’t text or call Zoe. She’s bad news. She and that rapist were trying to steal your inheritance.”
“I’m never talking to that lying bitch again.” He paused, the worried look returning. “You’re sure about the cops? They scare me.”
Maruyama laughed. “Cops don’t like lawyers, Adam. Especially not ones like Cottrell. They’ll be happy someone whacked the bastard.”
“Whacked?”
A smile. “You need to watch more television.”
They came to Cottrell’s address, his house a one-story adobe with a tile roof, the yard landscaped with desert fauna. Set on five acres, it was raw desert on both sides. Adam had Maruyama twice drive slowly past as he slumped in the seat and studied the terrain through oversize sunglasses with a Phoenix Suns cap pulled low over the shades.
“Okay,” he said. “I know what I’m going to do.”
They returned to Maruyama’s apartment. Kubiac said: “You’re coming along, right, Cat? It would help me, like, if I get nervous or something.”
Maruyama shook her head. “I have to stay here and send e-mails and tweets and play games.”
“Why?”
“Our computers, phones and tablets will show us using them all night, like we never left here. You have to leave me your phone so I can pretend to be you.”
His face filled with panic. “No! I need to be able to talk to you when I’m—”
Maruyama reached in her purse and produced a pair of cheap burner phones, handing him one.
“They’ll keep us close, Adam. It’ll be like I’m standing right beside you. We’ll throw them away afterwards.” She kissed him on the cheek. “You won’t get nervous, Adam. You’re the strongest man I know.”