Captured Lies

by Maggie Thom

How the hell did I miss?

  Geoff massaged his knuckles, feeling the arthritis, like poison gnawing through his joints. The pain was familiar to him. The fact that he had missed was not. It had been several years since he'd shot his gun but that hadn't been factored in. Shooting really wasn't his style. He'd preferred the up close contact a knife gave him. His Spearpoint Knife gave him all the security he needed. It was broad with a fat belly and sliced into muscle and sinew like it was cutting butter. The shivers started as gentle vibrations at his core, soon vibrating his whole body with a ripple of pleasure. The high it gave him almost overwhelmed him. Quickly on the heels of that was the reality of the situation he found himself in. His euphoric feeling vanished like a whiff of smoke in the wind. He slammed his fist into his palm.

  Dammit, why'd that idiot John get caught?

  He knew that the man would sell him upstream faster than a bear-chased fish could swim. He didn't have much time. They'd be coming to question him. He was almost ready to leave. His private jet, or he should say the company jet, was ready to go at his command. Everything was going to work out. His thoughts wandered to the board meeting from the night before. He'd gone in and sat there like nothing was any different, like he hadn't just come from trying to kill someone. Maybe he should have said something. Half of the old farts on the board would have croaked, saving him some trouble. They'd all been so easy to convince that he had it all under control. And yes, he could use the company jet to make sure all things were on the up and up. He laughed. It was so beautiful. No one had a clue.

  Walking across his suite, he lifted the bottle of whiskey and poured himself two fingers. Downing it, he filled it up again. Stepping over to the window, he peered through the telescope and scanned the expansive lawn and the flowers and the four or five fish ponds his sister had put in.

  He couldn't help but smile every time he looked at them. They couldn't figure out what was killing the exotic fish she kept buying at exceedingly high prices. He chuckled as he realized he'd missed out on a scheme to make money. He should have told the pet store guy he'd keep him in business selling her fish that would die but he wanted a cut of the profit.

  Shrugging, he put it down to his good deed for someone else. He was about to turn away from the screen when he noticed a vehicle pulling up. He watched as it disappeared from view to park in front of the house. Several minutes later it pulled away. Curious because he was not aware of anyone coming to visit, he walked from the room into his bedroom, opened the door to his walk in closet, stepped inside and hit a button. The wall slid sideways.

  Sighing, he walked through the door. He was going to miss all the gadgets he'd put in the house. Walking over to the elaborate listening and recording device, he hit the button that was blinking. A recorded message played back to him.

  Mrs. Lindell, Mr. Turner is here-

  That's all Geoff needed to hear. Anger was instant as he thought of the little snot nose kid Dorothea'd had the nerve to bring into his house. A maid's kid and god knew who the father was. She'd taken in the little twerp, raising him like he was her own. The help's brat. He'd never be more than that, no matter what Dorothea said or did. Geoff had taken it upon himself to make sure the little bugger never forgot where he came from. He'd learned quickly to keep his mouth shut or else.

  Almost as fast, a new thought struck him. He smiled. For once, the twit had done him a favor. He was with the woman earlier so chances were that she was still with him. Maybe he'd get lucky and would be able to deal with both of those headaches before he relocated to the Bahamas. He really was tempted to stick around just to see how extravagant his burial service would be but knew that might be stretching his luck a bit. Too many things were threatening to bring his world down. But not before he vanished.

  Everything was in place. Everything was ready. Just to make sure he did one more check of the C-4 he had strategically placed around the room. The detonator flashed, ready to be programmed.

  A feeling of power surged through him. He straightened his shoulders and stood tall. Time to go visit my dear nephew.

  His heart pounded as he knew that he was going to be able to serve up his form of justice. A full blown grin covered his face as he got into his car and drove. He pulled over and parked, well out of view of the big mansion. Taking a deep breath, he calmed his highly strung nerves.

  The time has come.

  He allowed a tiny shiver of excitement to course through him before he pasted on his somber, serious face and walked along the path that led to the big house. The one that should have been his. The one that he treated as his own although it never was and never would be. It was Dorothea's.

  Everything was Dorothea's.

  But not for much longer.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE