Page 168 of Buried Too Deep

“I don’t think you need to know that.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to…” Alan closed his eyes. Made himself say the words. “I want you to search their house for any files, take their laptops, tie them up, then…block the exits and set the house on fire.”

He opened his eyes to see Sage staring at him, in obvious shock.

“You want me to kill them?” Sage hissed. “You’re talking about burning them alive?”

“They’ll likely die of smoke inhalation first.” He hoped.

Sage shook his head. “No. I won’t kill someone. Not even for you, Grandfather.”

Alan gave him a bland look, hoping the boy couldn’t hear his heart beating in his chest. “You killed for yourself. Little-old-lady librarian. Rental car clerk.”

Sage’s eyes flashed fury. “You had me followed.”

“Of course I did. You’ve been a loose cannon for the past year, Sage. You need to straighten up and fly right. Which starts with proving you can follow orders, unlike the past few days when you practically stalked Cora Winslow.”

“And if I don’t agree?”

“Then the police will get an anonymous tip with footage of you entering the old librarian’s house. You wore a ski mask, but you drove that rental Camry, which you later drove to meet the rental car clerk, where you did not wear a mask. They’ll get photos of you shooting Sanjay, and the location where they’ll find his car—with his body in the trunk. That will be enough to get them a warrant for your penthouse condo where they will find sufficient proof that you killed two people.”

His grandson had gone pale. “I left no evidence in my condo.”

“Doesn’t matter. The police will find that you did.” Alan would make sure of it.

Sage’s mouth twisted. “You sonofabitch.”

“You watch your mouth.”

His grandson laughed bitterly. “You are asking me to murder someone, and you’re more concerned that I swear? You are a piece of work.” He shook his head, suddenly sober. “And if I do it? What then?”

“You get to keep your job, your fancy apartment, and that sports car you love so much.”

Sage’s eyes narrowed, contempt mixing with his horror. “What if I tell the police that you killed Medford Hughes?”

Alan couldn’t help it. He flinched.

Sage smiled coldly.

Alan shrugged, his nonchalance back in place. “They’ll think you’re making things up because you were arrested for killing that sweet old librarian and an innocent rental car clerk.”

“So we’re killers now,” Sage said quietly. “Is that accurate?”

“You are. I’ve never done anything like that.”

Sage’s laugh was mirthless. “You really are a sonofabitch. A lying sonofabitch.”

Alan gritted his teeth. “Will you do as I ask?”

“How long do I have to decide?”

“Thirty seconds.”

“Right.” The muscle in Sage’s jaw bulged. “Give me the address.”

Alan had known the boy would fold. Still, he had to control his shaking hands. “Memorize it. I’m going to keep it and burn it afterward.”

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