Page 65 of Bait and Switch
Dammit, who would have predicted he’d want the guy back here and not on his merry way elsewhere.
He was just about to refill his cup when yet again someone knocked on the fucking door, startling him and interrupting his brooding.
“Who the fuck now? Bowie, quiet.” Casey’d had about enough of unexpected visitors for the rest of his life.
Bowie huffed and darted his trademark Look toward Casey, but quieted and headed back to his spot in front of the couch.
Setting his mug on the kitchen counter with a decidedly grouchy smack, Casey went to find out who wanted something now. Hopefully, the cops weren’t back and ready to arrest him or worse, Elton. He did not have the patience for Rizzi’s bullshit but also couldn’t come up with a legitimate reason why the sheriff would be back so soon.
Through the window, he saw a recognizable brown van idling at the end of the drive. The delivery guy hopped back in behind the wheel just as Casey opened the door.
“Your package is right there,” the perky driver called out. “Have a great day!”
At least someone was having a good day.
Glancing down, Casey saw a cardboard One-Day Delivery envelope leaning against the siding. Picking it up, he went back inside.
“Elton, there’s a package for you.”
“Who’s it from? I haven’t gotten my shower yet.” Elton emerged from the hallway, a worn, red-checkered robe wrapped around himself.
Casey read the return address. “John Stevens.”
“Huh. What would he send me?” He held his hand out. “Pour an old man another cup of coffee, the shower can wait.”
Casey stood his ground. “Open that first.” He had a weird feeling, almost as if the envelope was demanding to be opened.
Elton squinted at him like he was planning to argue that coffee was more important. Instead, he perched on the edge of his recliner and ripped the envelope open. Inside was a slim sheaf of papers. Pulling them out, Elton started to set the envelope aside but, out of habit or because he felt something, he peered into it first. Then for good measure, he turned the packet upside down and shook it.
“Nope, nothing else.”
Casey sat on the arm of the couch so he could read over Elton’s shoulder.
Elton:by the time you read this, I will be dead. Consider this document a confession and admission of my guilt, which stretches back almost thirty years and Affects many people who thought I was a good and decent person.
I was not. I used protected information for personal gain. I entered into an illegal contract with Eli Rizzi. We began working together when he was just a deputy and I was a relatively new prosecutor. Over the years I received monies and gifts from Eli Rizzi and others to influence criminal and civil cases to their, and my own, benefit.
By the time you read this, Eli Rizzi will be dead too.
“This is not good,” said Casey, rising to his feet. His heart was thundering, trying to pound out of his chest. “Very not good. We need to get to the station.”
Quickly, he punched in the number for the Sheriff’s Office, but the phone rang several times with no answer before going to voicemail. He could think of only one reason why and that was because John Stevens was already there, and he had a weapon. Like many folks in Twana County, Stevens was comfortable with guns.
And Gabe was there. In custody. In fucking handcuffs. And Althea Mortine. Bree Eagan.
Casey thought he might throw up. He was ready to race out the door, but Elton was mumbling through the last few sentences of the confession aloud.
“Blah,blah:The sordid details of our working relationship are saved on my home office computer. I’ve included my password among the documents here. I trust you will get the evidence and this letter to the correct authorities so a proper investigation can be instigated. This confession does not absolve me of my crimes, but maybe in the end I will have done some good by ridding the world of Eli Rizzi, at whose feet I lay the blame for the murder of my only son.”
“Goddammit all to hell,” Elton said as he set the papers down on his puzzle-slash-dining table. “I need to get my damn clothes back on. You’re not going down there without me, I forbid it. I only hope we’re not too late.” Elton glanced at his wall clock on the way to his bedroom. “And I’m driving.”
Casey didn’t immediately respond, he was too focused on trying to drag oxygen into his lungs. There was an unstable man at the station. With a gun. Where Gabe was. And Gabe was notknown for keeping his trap shut when he should. He snatched up his keys and parka, ready to bolt.
Some days—the ones that ended in Y—there was just no arguing with Elton Cox, so he waited while Elton got ready to go.
Casey wasn’tsure what he’d expected when they arrived at the Sheriff’s Office. Maybe sirens wailing and a SWAT team dressed in black, toting massive weapons?
Things were quiet. No one was rushing out of the building. There was no screaming or shouting. And best of all, no gunshots. He reminded himself that they weren’t one hundred percent certain Stevens was there. Maybe the ex-prosecutor had somewhere else in mind, a different convenient venue to ambush Eli Rizzi and erase him from the planet. However, when he spotted Stevens’s Mercedes parked in the lot sans driver, his stomach twisted into a more painful knot.
