“It’s all my fault.” He sniffed. “I did this to her.”
“No, you didn’t,” McCrae said, putting his hand on Duffey’s shoulder. “Seth Benning did it, and he paid for it.”
Duffey took a deep breath to compose himself, all the while looking at his stricken daughter. Eventually he turned to Corrina.
“If you ever need anything, please let me know.”
“Thanks,” was all she could think of to say.
Duffey turned his attention back to his daughter. “They say they can grow new ears in a petri dish these days,” he said. “If not, she can always fix her hair to cover them up.”
The grief he’d been fighting against finally won through, and Duffey began sobbing, a soul-rending sound. His wife stood and put her arms around him, and Corrina knew it was time to let the family have their time alone.
“We’ll leave you to it,” Corrina said to Alice Duffey, and got a nod and sympathetic smile in return.
McCrae held the door open and Corrina made her way out into the hallway.
“Poor bastards,” McCrae mumbled when the door closed behind them. “Benning didn’t get his fifteen kills, but he still managed to ruin their lives.”
“And all for nothing,” Corrina sighed. “It won’t make a bit of difference. He had a point about the greed in this world, but now that he’s gone it’ll just keep going.”
They walked back out to the vehicle, a truck McCrae had borrowed from his brother. It was easier to get in and out of than his sedan.
“Where to?” McCrae asked.
“Surprise me.”
He smiled. “Phuket it is.”
She put her hand on his knee. “I’d settle for a hotel room and a bottle of wine.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He put the truck in gear and set off, and Corrina stared out of the side window. The last couple of weeks had been life-changing, but she was happy that things were now heading in the right direction. Mike had dropped his custody case against her. She wanted to think it was because of what she’d been through, but the likely explanation was that he knew any judge would look unkindly on his decision to hire a private investigator to track her movements, endangering a critical investigation in the process.
She and McCrae had agreed to take things slowly, at least until both divorces were finalized. They hadn’t discussed moving in together, but that was sure to happen at some point. McCrae’s wife wanted to keep the house, and he was happy to let Jean have it as long as she took over the payments and his name came off the deed. It made sense for him to move in with her once that was done.
Connor’s reaction was her only concern. She didn’t care what Mike thought of the arrangement, but her son’s happiness was paramount. She would only allow McCrae to move in if her boy was comfortable with having another man around the house. She’d ease him into it, inviting McCrae over for dinner a few times and perhaps going for day trips together at the weekends. Once Connor was used to him being around, she’d consider taking it to the next level.
That was, if McCrae had the same plans. He might balk at the idea of exiting one relationship and diving straight into another.
She looked at him, and he smiled back at her, a contented look that said he had nothing weighing on his mind.
That was good enough for her.
McCrae’s phone rang. He put it on speaker.
“Hey, Mack,” detective Geraldo Martinez said. “Just wanted to give you a heads-up. We got a misper.”
“Damn. I forgot to cancel that alert. Don’t worry about it, just let missing persons deal with it.”
“I think you might wanna take a look at this one.”
McCrae frowned. “Who is it?”
“You remember Hector Sanchez?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell,” McCrae admitted.
“He was in the news a few weeks ago,” Corrina said. “He started a GoFundMe page for his daughter’s cancer treatment. He’d built up a huge social media network over the last three years and managed to raise over four hundred Gs.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah, only his daughter never had cancer. He took the money and blew it in Vegas. There’s a court case pending.”
“Okay, so what about him? Did he skip town?” McCrae asked.
“No,” Martinez said. “His daughter went missing last night.”
THE END
AUTHOR’S NOTE
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Fifteen Times a Killer Page 31
