Page 142 of Lethal Danger

His eyes narrowed. “I should have found a way to get rid of you years ago. The moment Lawrence dumped you with us so you could be a threat hung over my head. Instead, I let him force us to take care of his brat he didn’t even want.”

The truth stung, pricking her eyes with hot moisture. But she blinked it back. She’d never heard the part about being a threat. About Uncle Pierce and Aunt Joan being forced to take care of her.

Evidence in her dad’s things. The realization of what he must be talking about rolled through her in a freezing wave of shock. “Blackmail.” The word popped out without her meaning to say it.

“Yes. Pernicious, relentless blackmail.” Uncle Pierce’s mouth twisted with pure hate. “That’s the kind of man Lawrence was. Didn’t matter we’d served together, been friends once. Whenever he needed something, I had to supply it. Money, childcare, schooling. And if I refused, he would threaten to expose me.”

“But what could he have had to blackmail you with?”

“You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?” Uncle Pierce sneered. “So you can use it against me, too. You won’t get the chance.” He jerked a nod in the direction of the body behind her. “That’s what happens to people who try to blackmail me now.”

“Butch was blackmailing you, too?”

“No, my dear.” He spoke the endearment in a tone of pure ice. “I killed him so he could not.”

“How would he know what my father knew?”

“He didn’t. He knew what I did here.” Uncle Pierce glanced up toward the ceiling and dropped his gaze to the right, as if encompassing the building.

Did he mean the fair? Her breath caught. “You were the one who sabotaged the rides?”

“Well, not all of them, no. I’ll have to give credit to Butch for the first incidents, and for the inspiration for how I could get rid of my little problem.”

The first incidents. The last one was…Aunt Joan.

Jazz’s heart leaped into her throat, nearly gagging her. “You…killed…Aunt Joan?” She could barely force out the words.

“Yes.” That horrible, hateful smile curved his closed lips again. “Amazing how easy it was. A simple IED in that giant purse of hers.”

“Why?” The question emerged as a near whisper, from the depths of her stinging heart.

“I already told you. Because of you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

His smile faded. “I didn’t think so either. But she didn’t think I should have you killed.”

“Have me…You’re the one who hired the hitmen?”

“All the good it did me.” He stared at her, that hatred flashing in his eyes. “Joan was so sure we could talk things out so I wouldn’t have to take such a step.”

The Sunday brunch. That was why Aunt Joan had suddenly invited Jazz to brunch. Maybe why she’d acted friendlier the day she died, too.

“She had never liked you, so I was quite taken aback by her sudden desire to protect you. Very inconvenient.”

“Inconvenient?” A small spark of anger flared in Jazz’s chest. “You killed your own wife because she wanted to save her niece from being murdered by you, and you call that inconvenient?”

“Very.” He snapped the reply with a glare. “It meant I needed to get rid of her, too, and that gave the fool over there,” he cast a glance toward Butch, “the idea to blackmail me. And now we end up here. Where I have to do away with you myself—something I should have done from the beginning, apparently. And this unfortunate girl.” He squeezed the girl’s neck tighter, and she clutched at his arm with her fingers.

Maybe Jazz could at least help her out of this. “Who is she?”

“I have no idea.” He lifted his eyebrows with mild annoyance. “But she showed up here right as I dispatched Butch, so I have no choice but to eliminate her, as well. I suspect she must have been here in connection with Butch somehow. It will add more validity to the theory the police will no doubt arrive at. That Butch killed the girl and you because you discovered he was the culprit behind the sabotage and my dear wife’s death.”

He gave Jazz a sickening smile that dropped as quickly as it appeared. Then he dug the suppressor deeper into the girl’s head. “Now, lay down any weapons you’re carrying, or I’ll blow the girl’s head apart right here.”

Forty-One

Raindrops pummeled the windshield as Hawthorne flipped the wipers to a higher setting, trying to see the dark road before him.

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