If only he could trust his son’s word. Cyrus rolled to the door. There was one more thing he intended to say. “If I discover that you’ve been lying to me or that you had anything at all to do with Irene’s death, I will cut off all support. There will be no forgiveness. This is your final warning.” Perhaps the boy could benefit from eking out his own living. Or perhaps Cyrus would just put him out of his misery. Agony seized his insides once more. To some degree he now looked forward to his own death.
Without Irene ... he wasn’t sure this pathetic life would be worth living.
He was certain it would not be.
Clay strode right up to him and braced his hands on the arms of the mobile chair. He put his face in Cyrus’s. “This isyourfinal warning, old man. You keep giving me shit and you will end up at the bottomof those stairs. And then it’ll all be mine and I won’t have to answer to you about any damned thing.”
Cyrus produced a taunting smile. “You don’t have the guts to take a life, much less mine. You have no idea just what it takes to go that far.”
Clay didn’t flinch. He held Cyrus’s gaze. “You sure about that?”
Cyrus’s confidence in the matter drained away like the evening tide. Perhaps he didn’t fully comprehend what his son was capable of. Time would tell, he supposed.
“Test me again,” Cyrus cautioned, “and we will see who has the largest balls in this family.”
43
1708 Monroe Street; 10:05 p.m.
Adeline sat on Wyatt’s sofa. She felt numb. Beyond exhausted. They had found nothing. Not one sign of the women or Jamison.
The bastard could have tucked Prescott and Arnold away almost anywhere. Hundreds of tiny shacks and cabins dotted the waterways. Hunters, drug smugglers, and the like built small, primitive shelters all the time. Many were abandoned and left to rot down.
It could take weeks to cover every square mile of land near the water. But Adeline was determined to keep searching until she found the women or their bodies.
She closed her eyes and rested her head on the sofa back. God, she did not want them to be dead. Sheriff Henley had called. The boy, Danny, was missing. Defeat sucked at Adeline’s determination. Would Jamison hide his son with the women ... to watch him play out his crazy scheme?
The idea of a child being in harm’s way made her sick to her stomach.
They had to find Jamison.
Adeline failed at blocking the thoughts of her mother that nudged their way into her consciousness. The funeral home would have picked up her body by now. They would be waiting for Adeline to make a decision on the arrangements.
She opened her eyes and sat up straight. She couldn’t think about that. It was too fresh. Hurt too much.
Focus on the case. The women. The boy. Henley had no idea how Jamison had gotten into the home belonging to his in-laws, but he had to have gotten in. The boy had vanished. Even with the grandparents and a deputy keeping a diligent watch the bastard had managed to get to the kid.
At least there had been no casualties. The last time this psycho hadn’t been quite so generous.
He’d killed Adeline’s mother. She hadn’t done a damned thing to hurt the son of a bitch. He’d done it to hurt Adeline. By God, she wouldn’t rest until she had hurt him back.
“Bastard.”
She thought of the flowers he’d had delivered to the hospital. The call to the flower shop had come from a phone booth right here in Pascagoula. He was close. But how had he known when she had arrived? They’d rushed back from Jones County. Jamison couldn’t have known hers and Wyatt’s movements.
Yet he had. He’d been watching. Somehow.
He’s watching you real close. Almost as close as he’s watching his boy.
You’re next. It’s time, princess.
Fury blasted through Adeline.
Bring it on, asshole. I will fucking end this.
“You need to get to bed.”
She looked up at Wyatt. He stood over her, his protector mentality in full force. “Is that an invitation?”