Page 85 of Welker

Mick leered. “Your SWAT team won’t be called in, and they won’t see a fucking thing. The Sheriff’s Department will be in charge of the investigation.”

“Really? Like in the case of Deputy Alstead’s death?” Moira prodded, putting a smug look on her face. It was all or nothing, now.

“She’s too smart, Mick,” Pidge whined. “If her friends are like her, we’re screwed.”

When Mick didn’t automatically shut Pidge down after that comment, Moira turned her attention to the looser-lipped man.

“You’re right Pidge. You’ll both be screwed. So, who wants you to kill me and take the rap? Who had Tormentor kill Alstead?”

Come on. Come on. All I need is a name.

Mick looked at Pidge, Pidge looked at Mick. Then Mick hardened his jaw and shrugged, facing her with a definite false bravado. “You know what? It doesn’t matter if you know. We’re killing you anyway.”

“Really? You’ll take that risk?” Moira puzzled.

Mick looked conflicted for a second before straightening his shoulders. “Yeah. Sheriff Gladstone has a lot of power. He’ll protect us if we follow orders. If we don’t do what he wants, he’ll shut us down for good, or make us disappear.”

“Mmm. Gladstone,” Moria looked thoughtful. “What’s in this for him?” she asked nonchalantly, as if she wasn’t all that interested.

“Money,” Pidge revealed. “He was getting a big cut of the take from what we stole in those houses.”

“And he had Deputy Alstead killed because the deputy found out about it?” Moira wheedled.

“Yeah,” Pidge confirmed. “The guy was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He heard Gladstone talking about that shit with Tormentor, and when Gladstone found out, he had the boss and some of the crew drag the guy out of town, and beat the shit out of him until he was dead.”

Moira wanted to snarl at Pidge. He’d talked about Alstead dying like he was mentioning the movie line-up at the local cinema. But…

Just a little more.

Moira swallowed down the bile that had filled her throat. “So a month later, when my father made a huge political stink about the robberies continuing, Gladstone put me on the case to assuage him,” Moira guessed.

“Yeah. Your old man said you should be the one to investigate shit.”

That was news to Moira, but considering her father’s odd behavior; visiting the hospital and calling her every day, maybe he was trying to mend fences.

Mick was still talking. “…the sheriff never thought you’d solve anything. He said you were a stupid bitch,” Mick snickered.

“And I proved him wrong.” Moira skewered Mick with a hard look.

“I guess you did,” he admitted, running a hand over his face. “But what it meant was that Tormentor had to take the heat and go to jail for the robberies. If Pres hadn’t agreed to that, Gladstone said he had plenty of evidence from the murder scene of that deputy to put Tormentor away for life.”

“So, why are you going to kill me?” Moira asked.

“You’re in the way of business,” Pidge said. “Gladstone wants back on the gravy-train, so you’ve gotta go.”

“Where do Pickenstahl and Murphy play into all this?” Moira made it sound like she was just curious.

“Pickenstahl?” Mick scoffed. “He’s not involved at all. He’s just a dick. But Murph… He’s one of us. Gladstone hired him and has him set to ‘take over the investigation’ of any future Bar Harbor shit once you’re gone and we’ve started up again.”

And there it was.

The entire, sordid plan, all on tape.

Now all Moira had to do, was play her cards right and get out of this, alive.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Welker was losing his shit.

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