Chapter 60

60

Why waste time? Dale had places to be. For one thing, Kelby was buying him the necessary time for him to sneak away right in the middle of his docket for the afternoon. They'd worked out the details for Dale's alibi. They both were of the same mind.

Dale needed to ensure there weren't any more screwups.

What had happened in Finley Creek endangered them all. Neither he nor Kelby nor Michelle had missed that. First Steven, then Trey.

Dale waited until the man he needed there was in the parking lot. He saw him from the window, and watched Wayne talking to that young thug next to him. A driver, he suspected, from the sight of the older semi.

Dale wasn't certain who that kid was, but he was the answer to what Dale needed. Wayne wasn't a fool, and he was damned good at what he did with that gun of his. Wayne Pryor never missed.

Except he had.

The night he had been ordered by Morris and Jason to take out Geena Talley and her husband on a cold, snowy highway back in November. That had been Wayne's first mistake in the entire time Dale had known him.

No.

Dale couldn't waste a moment.

He raised the gun he had taken from Brandt Barratt's truck himself.

And fired.

At Wayne first.

Then the thug right next to him. Right where they had stood in the entrance to Morris Preston's final office.

Wayne went down.

He didn't get up.

The baby in the carrier in the boy's hands started screaming.

A baby?

Dale hadn't even seen her. There was blood on the carrier.

He walked closer. Looked at the infant. He hadn't hit her, thankfully. He did possess some sort of soul, after all.

But how was he going to deal with a baby right in the midst of everything?

She just continued to scream.

Her father wasn't going anywhere.

And Wayne? Wayne was watching Dale now. Sprawled on the floor, like the wasted flesh he was. Barely moving.

Dale stepped past the carrier and left the baby there, but he did right her carrier, at least. Someone would find her eventually. Maybe…it would even be in time to save her. Not like a baby this young could ever identify her father's killers. If not, smoke would take her. She would be just another tragic death attributed to the crime ring operating out of Finley Creek.

Tainting the Barratt name forever. That family deserved it.

"Hurry this up," Dale ordered Kurt and Ashton, when they just stood there, gawking at Wayne and that other guy. "Put Wayne in the chair there. Barratt behind the desk. The other guy, just put him in the door and put a gun in his hand." Dale stepped over to Barratt.

The young man was just limp. Pitiful. He was young, fit, healthy. Taken down by a drug patch not even available on the market? Pitiful.

"They made it almost too easy. Softer than I thought a Barratt of Finley Creek would be." He looked at Kurt. "Pryor will have at least one handgun on him, probably two. Use it. Against Barratt. And the girl. Just…make sure she doesn't suffer too much—Wayne's a damned hired gun. An expert. He'd be efficient—and he has a soft spot for young women. Make it like Wayne did it so there aren't any questions. He wouldn't want her to suffer."

Hell, Dale didn't either.

He dropped a single flash drive on the desk in front of them all. It contained every doctored record he had created. Replacing Michelle's footprint with Barratt's. He had paid a premium for the service—but there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for the woman he loved and the children they had created.

This was for Sierra and Jonathan and their futures, too.

Michelle had been a bit too careless a few years ago. He blamed it on menopause—she hadn't been able to focus well for a while there. But…Dale had fixed what had needed fixed. Now, it was time to move on. To focus on his future.

Or the life, the image, he had built for himself. Dale had a legacy to leave behind, after all.

Dale turned and walked away.

He'd wasted enough time here already.