Page 24 of Buried Too Deep

Sanctimonious old bastard.

Hadn’t even offered to get him a doctor.

Not that Sage needed one. Luckily Joy Thomas’s gun had been a small caliber.

He still couldn’t believe the woman had shot him.

Then gotten herself shot, too. He hadn’t wanted to shoot her. If she’d just let the damn gun go, he would have simply taken it and run.

Maybe she won’t die.

He wanted to pray that Joy Thomas survived, but he didn’t pray anymore. Prayer was for foolish old men who’d built televangelism empires they were terrified to lose.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, Sage made his way to the elevator. He needed a drink.

At least his grandfather was upset. That didn’t happen often. Sage had never seen him quite like this.

Who was Cora Winslow? Why was she important?

Sage had done his research, of course. He’d been in the woman’s house five times over the past two weeks. Three times he’d broken in when she was at work and twice when she was asleep. He’d gone through her personal papers and spied on her conversations. He knew that she was a librarian who spent all her time—and money—on that fancy house. He knew that she had a dog named Blue and that her best friend’s name was Tandy.

He also knew that she was incredibly lonely. He’d heard it in her voice when she talked to her dog. He’d heard it when she cried in the night when she thought no one was listening.

Her father had died recently. Or at least his body had been found recently.

Her brother had died a year ago, her grandmother two years ago. Cora Winslow had seen some tragedy.

His grandfather interacted daily with people who’d seen tragedy. Some legitimately needed some help. Some were con artists whose only goal was to take from Sage’s family. Sage’s job was to deal with those people. He’d find out what their game was and how to thwart them.

Sage was very good at his job.

He believed that Cora Winslow’s grief was legit, but his grandfather wasn’t interested in comforting her.

Alan was afraid of her and that, in and of itself, was unusual. The man was obsessed with getting his hands on the letters that Cora had been receiving from her supposedly dead father. Sage wanted to read the letters, too. He wanted to know what had Alan so damn scared.

Sage had even searched his grandfather’s home study thoroughly for clues to Alan’s obsession with Cora Winslow. He’d searched Alan’s desk, the filing cabinets, and even Alan’s computer. Sage had known the password since he’d been a teenager bent on trying his hand at hacking.

He’d even checked the big reference books for secret hiding places cut into their pages.

But he’d found nothing.

The elevator opened into Sage’s penthouse apartment. He dropped his backpack on the sofa and walked to the wall of windows, gazing out at the unparalleled view of the river.

That he’d found nothing in his grandfather’s study had bothered him, because not only had he not found anything on Cora Winslow, he hadn’t found other files that he knew his grandfather had kept. Damning data that Sage had been sent to gather on anyone who had crossed his grandfather or who might become a hindrance in the future.

The old bastard wouldn’t keep any of the truly important papers at work. There were too many prying eyes at the central offices, the risk of discovery way too high.

So the good stuff on Cora Winslow had to be hidden at his grandfather’s home. Somewhere. Otherwise the directive for Sage to break into Broussard’s office didn’t make sense.

There hadn’t been any files on Cora Winslow on the PI’s desk, and his filing cabinet drawer had held only a box of Ritz crackers and a jar of peanut butter. Broussard’s group must have been keeping everything digitized.

Thus Sage stealing the laptops.

He hoped whatever was on those laptops was worth the receptionist’s life.

He really hoped that he hadn’t killed Joy Thomas, but if he had, he was not going down for it. He hadn’t left any evidence behind. Of that he was certain. And his grandfather wouldn’t implicate him because he’d have to explain too many things that the old man clearly wanted kept secret.

Sage could keep his grandfather’s secrets—for a price.

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