Sebastian sucked in a deep breath and looked past the glass walls, to the backyard. The evening sky was the color of a bruise. A window was open somewhere, and he could hear the soft, steady gurgling of the pool filter. The calming sound of the water, the beauty of the sky—it reminded him he was alive. Knowing that allowed him to separate himself from the pain; it was only temporary.

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Paul said. “You’re going to hand over your business, and then you and Frank can take all the money you’ve made and go live happily ever after together. You can stay in the real estate game, too, if you want, and you can keep your house. I’ll allow that.”

I’ll allow that. Hearing those three words sparked Sebastian’s rage, took his pain and made it small. That was the wonderful thing about rage, how it clarified, boiled everything in life down to its simple, primitive elegance.

Sebastian spoke from experience, said words he knew to be true. “I will find you,” he said, his voice eerily calm. He was still sweating, and the pain was still there, roaring and clawing, but his heart was no longer racing, and his words were clear. “It may take some time, maybe a lot of time and a lot of money, but I will find you.”

“Then, what, you’re going to kill me?” Paul chuckled.

“I’m not going to kill you. But I am going to lock you away somewhere. And each day, I’m going to come visit you. Each and every day, for the rest of your life, I’m going to personally introduce you to a new and special level of hell.”

CHAPTER 12

THE NIGHT—ACTUALLY, it was morning now, well after one a.m.—was cool and silent, the only light coming from the blue water of the community underground pool. Ellie looked out into the distance, trying to make out the mountains hidden behind the darkness. She had continued drinking after the police commissioner left and she felt good and numb, all the different voices in her head finally quiet—maybe because of the whiskey, or maybe because Cody was sitting next to her, or maybe a combination of both.

They were sitting on the back porch, in a pair of cheap white plastic Adirondack chairs. They had gone through the shared relief of her being alive and in one piece and had moved on to the part where she told him about the police commissioner’s late-night house call, what Kelly had asked her to do.

Cody hadn’t offered his opinion—hadn’t offered an opinion of any kind. Yet. He had simply listened, intently and without interruption. Now that she was finished, he remained silent, sorting through his thoughts and feelings. She felt them brewing underneath his calm exterior, radiating off him like the heat from a fire.

Cody picked up the bottle of whiskey from the small table between them and sniffed its neck. Before coming over he had changed out of his blues, into a pair of shorts, flip-flops, and a CrossFit T-shirt.