Page 91 of Evening Shadows

“Name-calling won’t get us anywhere. There is one very important thing we are going to accomplish today.”

In a quick, jerky motion, Beverly crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not doing anything with you, husband killer.”

Ken flinched at the name but not because he felt he’d earned it, but because he wished Adam had never lost his life. Maybe then Beverly wouldn’t have done this.

With no need to drive his mind down that road, he continued on course. He tapped the folder in front of him. “When you first called Sam about Cody being missing, you started a chain of events that were not all within your control.”

Her eyes bored into him with hate and contempt, but he didn’t care. One thing would get done without her admitting to anything. Some things were more important than others.

“See, when we figured out you’d somehow played us at Cody’s expense, we started our own chain of events—fully outside your control. Before we even rescued Cody”—he refused to call him her son—“we had our attorneys start some paperwork.” He didn’t mention Devon had spoken with FBI Deputy Director Arthur Hall when they’d realized things were going tits up.

That got her attention. Her eyes widened and she sat up straight. Maybe realizing her slip, she narrowed her eyes and acted as if she didn’t care.

“Youwillsign this document to give Sam custody of Cody.” Granted, he had no clue what level of guardianship or adoption or whatever the HIS attorney had included. The man had just promised that Sam would go home with the boy.

Beverly jammed her thumb in her chest so hard, Ken expected she’d bruised herself. Good thing there were witnesses here so he didn’t get blamed. “My son is mine. No one else gets him.” She looked at Sam with venom in her eyes. “No one.”

Ken chuckled, and with the intensity of Sam’s stiffening, he knew he’d thrown her. She didn’t know his game.

“Oh, I think you’ll sign. Not only is it in Cody’s best interest, but you’ve also become a very wanted woman.”

Fear washed across her face. “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything in the US.”

“You mean besides allowing your son to be kidnapped and transported out of the country?”

With a smug attitude, Beverly leaned back and crossed her arms again. “I didn’t break any laws there.” At the number of snorts behind him, her startled look said she must’ve rethought that.

A weapons buyer who’d been busted in Georgia had admitted Beverly had been at a purchase with Alejandro. Apparently, it hadn’t been the first time, but they wouldn’t bring it up for Sam’s sake. They’d leave the arrest and investigation to the alphabets.

He went for another tact. “How’d you get back from Mexico so fast?” And, he wanted to add, without triggering an alarm.

“Alejandro had plenty of resources for me to use. The right amount of money greases many palms.”

“I didn’t realize you had a lot of money.”

“Alejandro always said what’s his is mine.”

“And now it’s all yours?” he hedged. Although he didn’t need it, he wanted her to confess to Alejandro’s murder. They were handing her over to the FBI either way, but it’d be satisfying to accomplish it. But Cody came first.

“Of course,” she said flippantly.

“How did Alejandro die?” He held his breath, hoping she’d turned smug enough.

“I shot him. Just like I should’ve shot you instead of toying with you until that asshole”—she pointed at Jesse—“arrived.”

At her confession, Devon, who’d situated himself by the door, slipped out quietly.

Leaving that line of questioning there and not hinting that she’d hung herself, he tapped the folder again. “You’ve just admitted to killing Alejandro and using his resources to come back here.”

“That’s a crime in Mexico. You have no authority.”

He didn’t, and it showed that she’d been sane enough to plan this so she’d escape punishment. “You’re right, I don’t.”

That surprised her and took the wind out of her sails.

“See, what I meant by you confessing to killing and using his resources, those people whose money he took to buy guns or who he owes for the guns will be very interested in how to access what they consider theirs. Now, I imagine if they knew where to find you….” He let it hang with whatever assumption she chose to make. In no way would they be so low as to let her loose with those dogs or lie to have her sign the documents. She didn’t know that though.

He slid the papers across the table, and Grits held out a pen. They watched her like a hawk since they knew a pen could be a mighty weapon.

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