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Back We Were Killers Once Save as PDF
Chapters (65)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty–one
  25. Twenty–two
  26. Twenty–three
  27. Twenty–four
  28. Twenty–five
  29. Twenty–six
  30. Twenty–seven
  31. Twenty–eight
  32. Twenty–nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty–one
  35. Thirty–two
  36. Thirty–three
  37. Thirty–four
  38. Thirty–five
  39. Thirty–six
  40. Thirty–seven
  41. Thirty–eight
  42. Thirty–nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty–one
  45. Forty–two
  46. Forty–three
  47. Forty–four
  48. Forty–five
  49. Forty–six
  50. Forty–seven
  51. Forty–eight
  52. Forty–nine
  53. Fifty
  54. Fifty–one
  55. Fifty–two
  56. Fifty–three
  57. Fifty–four
  58. Fifty–five
  59. Fifty–six
  60. Fifty–seven
  61. Author’s Note
  62. Acknowledgments
  63. Also by Becky Masterman
  64. About the Author
  65. Newsletter Sign-up

For now he wrote “bourbon” on the grocery list she attached to the refrigerator door, then crossed it out thinking he should get it himself as a gesture of forgiveness. Jeez, flowers, dinners, make them come first, but hurt their feelings once and they never forget it. Is this what he’d dreamed of, all those years in prison? How long would it be before this kind of life just seemed like another sentence?

Beaufort gave a world-weary sigh and sat in the office chair at the desk. Achilles had come out from wherever he was hiding and laid himself down with his head on the man’s foot. Achilles always seemed to know when to make himself scarce and when it was safe to come out. Dogs were smarter than women that way, he thought.

Beaufort clicked on the square that showed the Pompano Park site. It didn’t take him long to find out where Quinn’s questions had been leading. She asked if he did flat racing or steeplechase. He knew the difference between those, and had answered flat.

Only as he looked at the photographs of the track, at the horses pulling surreys rather than the jockeys riding them, and then as he read more, he discovered the point of that conversation. Pompano Park wasn’t a racetrack that offered flat racing. It had always been and was still exclusively for what they called harness racing. He said he only did flat racing. And that he had raced at Pompano Park. His thumb and index finger jerked involuntarily and hit the glass of bourbon, knocking it onto the carpet. Shaking, he picked up the glass and went into the kitchen for more while he thought about what Carlo’s wife had done.

She had not only caught him in a lie, the bitch had set him up for it. She must be on to him.

Maybe it was time to stop being so cautious. He could just kill the two of them in their beds and burn their house down to destroy the evidence. That would take care of all the problems, get rid of the confession which was probably in there somewhere, and anyone who could connect him to it.

But then he thought probably. There was no guarantee that DiForenza had the confession in the house. Unless he put his hands on it, unless he read what Hickock had said about him, he would never feel any safer than he did now.

It was probably a better idea to get the wife out of the way before he did anything else. This was necessary. He stepped outside the house to light a cigarette, see how good he was about not smoking in the house? And called Yanchak.

Twenty–three