Page 57 of Luck of the Devil
“Because he wouldn’t have trusted them—with just cause. And I didn’t trust them to treat him fairly. Not to mention, he would have gotten an ulcer trying to protect me from both sides. I didn’t see any reason to drag him into it, so I found an excuse to fire him and used it.”
“And he wouldn’t have quit?”
“No fuckin’ way.” He shrugged as if it meant nothing. “He saw it as a betrayal, and if you look at it, it was a betrayal. I’d made him choose between helping the woman he loved and dropping everything to do my bidding. I knew he’d choose her, or at least I hoped to God he’d chose her, and when he did, I knew I’d made the right call.” He tapped the steering wheel, his jaw tight. “It was the only way to protect him.”
“How long did he work for you?”
“About fifteen years.”
“That’s a long time, Malcolm, not to mention you grew up together.” I tilted my head trying to study his reaction. “Sounds like he was your best friend.”
His face hardened. “He was my employee.”
“He was more than your employee and we both know it,” I countered. I hesitated before asking the next question, but he’d already told me far more than I’d expected. I might as well take the leap. “Did you have anyone else in your life? A girlfriend?”
His mouth twisted. “As you pointed out, I couldn’t afford to have a significant. It would have made them a target. A liability. Couldn’t risk it.”
“So, Jed was the one constant in your life, loyal enough that you were worried he’d put his own happiness on hold to support you.” I shrugged. “Sounds like a best friend to me.” When he started to protest, I held up a hand. “Count yourself lucky. I’ve never had a best friend.”
His brow furrowed. “What about that deputy sheriff you hang out with?”
“Louise?” I asked with a short laugh. “And don’t pretend you don’t know her name. You said it earlier.” I shook my head. “No. We’re friends, and maybe we could become best friends, but I don’t let people get close to me. And I’ve heard you need to let people get close to you to become best friends.”
“What about your detective boyfriend?”
“Keith?” I snorted. “Definitely not my best friend. Even in the best of times.” I made a face. “See? Never had one. Count yourself lucky.”
After we were silent for several long seconds, I decided our conversation had come to an end. I’d admitted I was a loser, and he’d refused to admit it had hurt to cut off his friend. So why was I tempted to push him?
I reached for my mother’s address book, trying to shake off the impulse, then stopped. “You had to have fired Jed … what? Three or four years ago?”
“Four.
“Did you ever tell him the truth?”
“About what?”
“About why you fired him, you fool.”
He scowled. “No.”
“Why not tell him now? Why let him suffer thinking you didn’t care about him?”
“It’s not a good idea.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he said, getting irritated. “It could go one of two ways. The first, he’d tell me to fuck off, because I was a selfish bastard for lying and hurting him like that. Or two, he’d forgive me and want to renew our friendship. Both options are bad.”
“Why would it be bad if he forgives you and wants to be your friend again?”
“It just would be.”
That didn’t make sense. He’d been released from the feds. He’d gotten immunity for Jed. As far as I could tell, Malcolm wasn’t working with any crime groups. What harm could come out of rekindling his friendship? Did he still have enemies in the wings, waiting to hurt him? He’d been worried Jed would talk him out of working with the feds and Hardshaw. Maybe he was worried Jed would interfere with his plan to root out and destroy Simmons’s successor. But even if he reopened the friendship, he wouldn’t need to share everything that was going on in his life. I suspected only two people in Malcolm’s orbit knew what he was up to—me and Carter Hale. And possibly some federal agents, but I had the impression he was doing this for himself. Not someone else.
So why wouldn’t Malcolm reach out to his friend?
“Is Jed still in Fenton County?”
