“The name Ziegler doesn’t ring a bell.”
A drop from the leaky faucet pinged onto the brick floor. A gust of wind moaned through the half-opened window. The concert of crickets outside suddenly stilled.
“Try Randall, as in James Richmond Randall.”
“Randall Industries?”
“The very one.”
The hair on the back of his neck bristled. Last year a trail of creative accounting, colored profits and corruption had led to Randall Industries before it ran cold.
Old instincts he thought had died with Lindsey revived. Danger had a scent, a taste, a feel of its own, and it slithered through him in a sticky cold that threatened to turn to black. He got up from the cot, shrugged off the unwanted feelings creeping down his spine and shuffled to the gate. He held the bars right above Deanna’s hands and looked straight into her pale blue eyes, gleaming in the moonlight.
“Even J.R. Randall can’t take something away from nothing. But you, how will you feel if the warning Freddy got is true and something happens to Melissa?”
Deanna swallowed hard. “She’s safe here.”
Money makes people do unspeakable things.
Did Freddy know Deanna was linked to Randall Industries? Was that why he’d sent him here? What chance did Melissa have against someone who thought nothing of murder to keep an illusion afloat?
“She’s in danger, Ms. Ziegler, but not from me.”
“I will not let you harm her.”
“Then help me keep her safe.”
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