Page 111 of Over the Edge

“We can get rid of that complication.”

“I don’t want any more killing. Once was bad enough.”

“What if she keeps remembering things?”

“There can’t be much more to remember. I was covered head to toe. I’m more worried about last night. They found blood on her car. Yours, I presume.”

“Yes. I cut my finger. But my blood isn’t in any database. I’ve never had a run-in with the law, served in the military, or submitted a sample to any of those genealogy places. That tattoo of yours is a bigger problem. You should have gotten rid of it after you divorced Shelley.”

“No names, remember?” He rested his arm on the desk, grimacingas the sensitive skin and pus-filled blisters stretched beneath the bandage under his long-sleeved dress shirt. Combined with fever and joint pain, those symptoms suggested infection—and the over-the-counter hydrogen peroxide cream hadn’t had any effect. Thankfully, his doctor had been willing to prescribe an antibiotic after a phone consultation. For an infected cut, not a tattoo.

“Fine. I stand by what I said.”

“I’m getting rid of it now.”

“You-know-who has already seen part of it. Can’t you speed up the process?”

“No. The skin has to heal for four to six weeks between each treatment. We’re off the subject. I called to talk about our plan, and sticking with the program. Last night could have caused big problems.”

“I was careful. I covered up, and no one saw me.” She shifted into cajoling mode. “Oh, honey, don’t be mad at me. I just want us to be together.”

“I do too.” He summoned up every ounce of his acting skills, putting as much sincerity into his voice as he could. She had to believe he loved her as much as she loved him. Otherwise, he’d lose his ticket to financial security. “But we’ll have a whole lifetime together if we’re patient and let this play out. I wish we didn’t have to deal with the witness complication, either, but another killing will increase the risk.”

“Not if it looks like an accident or suicide.”

“Suicide is no longer an option. The blood from last night gives her previous stories credibility, which would bolster her confidence, not demoralize her and lead to suicide. An accident would require careful planning.”

“You’re an excellent planner.”

He tamped down his annoyance. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll think about it and come up with a plan we can implementif necessary.” Which would be never, as far as he was concerned. But if that concession appeased her in the short term and kept her toeing the line, it was an easy offer to make. “How does that sound?”

“Better than nothing.” She sighed. “Why does love have to be so complicated?”

“I think it’s the nature of the beast. Keep hanging in and we’ll get through this.”

“Can we at least talk now that you’ve broken radio silence?”

“Texts are still safer.” If she was getting restless, however, an occasional call might help keep her in line. “But why don’t I call you on Saturday night? We’ll have a phone date.”

“I suppose that will have to do. It’s hard to get romantic over the phone, though.”

“If we talk about all the things we’re going to do once we’re together again, it could get downright racy.”

A soft, throaty chuckle came over the line. The one she liked to use in their private moments. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“You may. Until then, we’re going to play it safe, right? No more risky stunts.”

“No more stunts.”

“Good. Watch for my call at nine o’clock Saturday night.”

“I’ll be waiting.” She gave him a smooch over the line.

Rolling his eyes, he reciprocated. “Happy dreams.”

“That’s a given after hearing your voice. Love you, honey.”

“Love you back. Good night.” He stabbed the end button. Scowled. Slammed a drawer shut.

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