Page 11 of Without Fail

With Ryker more out of control than usual, coming back was food for thought.

Should he take it?

He’d mull that over when he had time to recap. Striding across the room, he dropped into one of two brown overstuffed chairs that sat opposite the man’s desk.

He didn’t remove his hat and the gesture was not lost on Langston.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Langston?”

“I won’t keep you long. I just need your take on this.” The man tossed a thin cardboard piece of paper enclosed in a plastic baggy across the desk at him. It landed face down. “Chad has ideas about how I should handle this, but he’s incompetent at best.”

Marshal didn’t touch the paper. He’d never found Brandon nor Chad to be incompetent. Sure, they’d let Ryker drink tonight, but that was the extent of it.

What game was Langston playing?

“Hire better help,” he said, and this time he smirked. This ploy to speak with him was lame at best.

“Perhaps I’ll reach out to Cobalt Security or Suwan Guardians and see if they might have an idea of how I should handle this.”

The man was crafty.

Marshal eyed the paper and reached for it; he used the edge of the baggie to flip it right side up.

The message was a clear threat against the Langston family.

“This is a typical threat. You’ve received these in the past.” Marshal sat back, leaving the cardboard on the desk.

“Not like this.”

Marshal flicked his gaze to the cutout words that readI know what you’ve done.If he had to count all the things that Langston had done, it would take a lifetime. The cardboard also stated to give the sender money or his family would die.

“It’s no different than a dozen other threats you’ve received.” He should know, he’d been with this family just over eleven years before he’d quit and walked away shortly before Ryker’s accident.

Langston stared at him from across the desk, the man’s hands were clenched, knuckles turned white. A bead of sweat trickled from his hairline and beneath the hard cold gaze, Marshal imagined he saw fear.

That was certainly new.

Langston wasn’t one to be afraid.

Although, fear would eventually be the man’s downfall.

“Call the police,” Marshal suggested, sounding bored on purpose.

“See that?” Langston tapped one finger firmly on the right corner of the cardboard.

He’d seen it.

The bloody thumbprint on the right corner of the paper. “So, the guy cut himself while cutting out the words to paste to the paper.” Marshal shrugged.

“It’s Ryker’s blood.”

Langston now had his full attention.

The room went deadly quiet.

“Do you think I should call the police?”

Okay, this was new. Langston call the police? What the actual fuck?

---