Page 14 of When You're Safe

“But what if it was to harm you,Mr. DeGrey?” Finn asked.

Stewart DeGrey’s face drained ofcolor. “No… No, I can’t think I was responsible. Don’t do that to me! I couldn’tlive with it!” He started to sob into his hands.

Winters nodded at Finn to let hertake the lead for a moment. She walked over to the man and knelt down, lookingat him face to face.

“It’s okay,” she said. “We’re notleaving blame at your door. If someone hurt her to get to you, that’s not yourfault, that’s their fault. Now, think, is there anyone right now or inthe past who would be out to get you in some way?”

Stewart leaned back in his chairand wiped the tears from his eyes. Winters stood up but stayed close to him.She still had concern on her face. Winters was capable of being tough when sheneeded to, but Finn was continually surprised by the way she could empathize.

“As part of this family,” repliedStewart, “I have dealings with people. Like anyone in business, enemies aremade.”

“They are,” Finn agreed. “But ifthis is the case, it’s for two reasons: revenge for past deeds or to putpressure on you now to change something that’s happening. Tell me, Mr.DeGrey, is there any ongoing dispute that you’re facing? Something that couldpossibly get nasty?”

He nodded. “Yes. Devon Langdon. Hewas a business partner with one of my family’s firms for sixteen years. Webuilt a successful retail business investing in small clothes manufacturers andgetting them into the high street.”

Finn felt they were finally gettingsomewhere. “And what went wrong?”

“Like most businesses, they have alifespan,” Stewart explained. “Our market was shrinking. We were being outbidby other suppliers, and several of our deals with smaller distributors hadn’tprovided the cash flow the business needed. I told him it was time to walk awayand sell the business’s assets. He didn’t like that.”

“What did he do?” Rob asked.

“He took me to court is what hedid!” Stewart said. “You see, we had each owned forty-five percent of thebusiness.”

“And who owned the last tenpercent?” Finn pressed.

“Funnily enough, my Uncle Quentin.”

“My God,” Finn said, shaking hishead. “So you and your uncle got together and had the majority to sell thecompany?”

“In theory,” Stewart said. “Butthey are putting up a damned good fight in court stalling the sale. Although mysolicitor assures me that it’s only a matter of time before we win.”

“Could you provide us with DevonLangdon’s address?” Rob asked.

Stewart stood up, swaying slightlybefore steadying himself. He walked over to a polished writing desk with aslanted front and took out a silver pen and some paper. After scribbling downsome details, he handed them to Rob.

“I can’t believe he killed my wifeand uncle,” he said. “I couldn’t ever have seen that coming. If I’d known, Iwould have given him the damned company for all it matters!”

“It’s only a theory for now,” Robsaid. “We’ll be in touch, Mr. DeGrey. And please ensure that no mention of thismakes its way to Devon Langdon before we get there.”

Stewart DeGrey nodded and slumpedback down into a chair. Finn had the feeling he would start drinking again themoment they left. But he knew the answers to grief could never be found at thebottom of a bottle; Finn had found that out the hard way when he was younger.

They left the room and steppedback out into the hallway. Finn half expected to see Thaddeus Lincoln standingthere stooped over ready to throw them off the premises himself, but the hall wasempty.

As they tried to remember the wayto the small courtyard where their cars were parked, Rob turned to Finn andWinters. “I have to go and brief our communications team for the press releasethis afternoon. Do you think you two can handle Devon Langdon on your own?”

Finn grinned as they reached thecourtyard, still bathed in shadow despite the high sun. “Of course, Chief. WithWinters’s know-how and my good looks, what could possibly go wrong?”

CHAPTER SIX

The killer looked behind to see ifanyone was watching, but all that could be seen was the thick marshland off in thedistance. Pockets of trees remained on the more solid ground, their thick trunkswet from the creeping fingers of the marsh.

An attack of nerves wasn’tsomething the killer wanted to admit to. The plan was coming together and ithad been carried out to perfection so far. Only through self-persuasion thatconfidence was king could the killer continue to bring the one goal closer intoview. There was no room for nerves, but deep beneath the skin and sinew of thekiller, anxiety still bubbled away.

Getting caught was not an option.Things, secrets, had to remain hidden, sometimes destroyed.

Turning back to the narrow path infront, the killer walked beside a red car and peered inside. Driving it out tothe edge of that narrow pathway through the marshland had not been easy. Butthe valley was so narrow and forgotten, it was as good a place as any todispose of it.

No one saw me, the killerthought. No one knows this place…

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