“I assume they won’t find anything.” Razor was quick-thinking and thorough, and if the man said the problem had been handled, there was no need to entertain doubts . . . or ask for details.

Leaving the messy tasks to others was a perk of management.

“No—and a chop shop took care of the car.”

“Then let’s not dwell on it. The situation was unfortunate, but the fault was partly theirs. And the odds of anything like that happening again are too small to be of concern. I also have inside help to ensure the area is clear.”

“Good.”

“Call me after the inventory’s depleted.” Wolf checked his prepaid minutes. “On second thought, this phone is history. I’ll be back in touch with a new number.”

“Got it.”

The line went dead.

Wolf pocketed the cell that was destined for the same fate as all the others—a fling into the river—and continued toward his destination.

When a police cruiser rounded the corner ahead, however, his step faltered.

But that was suspicious behavior.

He picked up his pace.

As he’d learned, if you acted innocent, most people gave you the benefit of the doubt.

The patrol car slowed, and the officer behind the wheel leaned forward. Peered at him.

Wolf called up a smile and lifted a hand in greeting, giving him a clear view of his face. As if he had nothing in the world to hide.

The officer’s forehead smoothed out. He returned the wave, picked up speed, and rolled on down the street.

Wolf’s lips flattened, and he inhaled a lungful of the cold air. Blew out a puff of vapor that quickly dissipated.

Living a lie was getting old.

Worse since October.

Hard as he’d tried to justify what had transpired on that autumn night, guilt continued to haunt him.

Profiting from people’s weaknesses was fine. They were the ones making bad decisions, after all. If their flaws padded his bank account, so what? The problem began with their choices, not with him.

On the other hand, the three people who’d found themselves in the line of fire in October were a different matter.

The grunt guy—he was no great loss. Collateral damage. Risking exposure would have been foolish. What if, while in a drug-induced haze, he’d let slip what had happened that night?

However, despite what he’d told Razor about that young couple being partly at fault for what had happened, the truth was they’d simply been a victim of bad timing. They hadn’t deserved their fate.

Yet what other choice had there been?

Sighing, he turned in to his destination.

Perhaps those two wouldn’t have told a soul about what they’d seen, since their own purpose for being in the woods at that hour of the night was suspect.