Free Twice in a Lifetime by Dorothy Garlock Page A

crossed his boss.
    “No sense in leavin’ a tongue to wag,” Jesse said matter-of-factly.
    Sweet shook his head. “We kill him and we’ll have the cops looking for us. Besides,” he said, giving Garrett’s lolling head a knock, “he’s gonna be scared of his shadow for the rest of his life after this. He won’t talk.”
    Jesse shrugged, Malcolm nodded, and the matter was settled.
    Leaving Garrett tied to the chair, the three men walked out to their car, a brand-new forest-green Cadillac Sixty Special. Jesse dug around in the glove compartment and came out with a map that he unfolded across the hood. Flicking a lighter to life, he held it over the paper so they could see.
    “He said they went south,” Jesse commented.
    “Only when they left the track,” Sweet replied. “Problem is, there ain’t no way of knowin’ for certain whether they continued that way or not.”
    “So which way do we go?”
    Sweet peered at the map. Roads branched out from where they stood in every direction. Following the routes that led north, south, and west took them to dozens of small towns: Dawson, Merchant Falls, Bougainville, Sunset, Clarion, the names went on and on. To randomly pick a direction might lead them on a wild goose chase, but what choice did they have?
    “South first,” he answered. “We’ll do like we done here, ask around to see if anyone’s seen ’em. If we run into a dead end, we’ll backtrack and try another road. Eventually, we’ll find ’em.”
    And when they did, Sweet would kill them.
      
    Eddie Fuller pulled the stopper out of a decanter of scotch, winced as he took a sniff, and then poured two fingers’ worth into his glass. He swirled the amber liquid around and around, then took a deep swig, closing his eyes tight as it burned painfully down his throat and into his belly. He’d never been much of a drinker, nothing more than an occasional glass of wine, but he was going to learn.
    After all, it was what powerful people did.
    Standing at the window, Eddie looked out over Sunset, long since quieted for the night. His home was a towering Victorian, built by his father atop the ridge running west of town, which offered a magnificent view; most days, he could see the houses and businesses clustered around Sunset’s center, beyond that to the docks jutting into the river, boats chugging down the wide waterway, and finally to the thick woods on the opposite bank. It was the nicest vantage point in town.
    The same could be said about the house. It was huge, with a dozen rooms, including a library, servants’ quarters, and a small greenhouse off the kitchen. Eddie had grown up under its roof, and no nook or cranny held any secrets from him. As a boy, especially after his mother’s death, he had ranged from cellar to attic, roamed up and down the grand staircase, hidden in closets, rummaged through pantries, and even ridden the dumbwaiter. The large grounds encompassed several acres and were as familiar as the back of his hand. He hadn’t ever had many friends, so with so much time alone he had developed a strong imagination. Theo Fuller had lived one life under the house’s roof, Eddie another.
    But now his father was gone, and it was all his…
    The few rooms that had always been off-limits to him, forbidden places like his father’s bedroom and den, were now open. So Eddie entered them. He inspected drawers full of papers, thumbed through treasured mementos, played antique phonograph records, and even tried on a few of his father’s favorite suits, posing in front of the full-length mirror. He started smoking cigars and drinking hard liquor. After years spent in the shadows waiting for his chance, he could finally step into the light.
    But oddly enough, he still wasn’t happy. In fact, he was restless, uncomfortable, out of sorts, and even a little scared. Even with all that had fallen into his lap, something was still missing.
    Fortunately, it didn’t take Eddie long to figure out what it