Deadline (Sandra Brown)

attention to an ailing senior citizen.”
    “Clever disguise.”
    “Don’t I know it.”
    “But hardly razzle-dazzle.”
    “I have other plans that don’t include you.”
    “Hunter and Grant?” Speaking for the first time, Amelia asked tearfully, “Will you take them?”
    “Hell, no. What would I want with a pair of kids?”
    “But…but I thought that’s what all this was about. You and Jeremy staged his death so you could get the boys and no one would ever dream that their father had taken them.”
    “That was Jeremy’s goal, not mine.”
    “He’d have to love his grandsons to want them, Amelia,” Dawson said. “And he doesn’t love anybody.”
    “I’ve got nothing against the boys.” He nudged Amelia. “Nothing personally against you, either.”
    Dawson jumped on that. “Because her marriage to Jeremy, his faked PTSD, their divorce, were essential to the setup, right?” Keep him talking. Keep him distracted. Stoke his ego. Pray for a miracle.
    “Right. You, Amelia dear, were instrumental at several stages. But I no longer need you. Thanks to Jeremy’s deathbed confession, that white-trash cretin has been exonerated.”
    Dawson said, “If all had gone well, if the cop hadn’t shot Jeremy and Willard had gone to death row, you and Jeremy would have been free to wreak havoc. Was that the plan, Carl?”
    “Point’s moot.”
    “Yes, but just so I’m clear, how was it going to work exactly? Your eyesight is dicey, your hips are shot. My guess is that you would have stayed in the background and thought up ways to rob, destroy, and kill while Jeremy actually did all the work and took the risks. Am I warm?”
    “What risks? It was perfect,” he boasted. “No one would have suspected a dead man of, say, blowing up a bus full of troops.”
    “Hmm.” Dawson nodded his understanding of the concept. “But things got royally fouled up when Jeremy got antsy, overanxious, killed Stef, and left a fingerprint. That was a major uh-oh. Suddenly Jeremy Wesson isn’t dead anymore.”
    Carl said nothing to that, but Dawson could tell he’d struck a nerve. Carl’s trigger finger was twitching.
    Talk fast. “Jeremy didn’t have your smarts, Carl. He tried to be as ruthless as you, too, but in the end he developed a conscience. He died talking about his children. Lamenting the way he’d treated Amelia. With his last breath, he was crying over his mother.” Dawson watched Carl’s eyes. They remained implacable, the reptilian lids unblinking. “You killed her, didn’t you?”
    “Too bad you didn’t write mysteries. You seem to have a flair for them.”
    “How did she die, Carl?”
    He replied querulously. “Pneumonia. If I was guessing. She had a cough that wouldn’t go away. Got worse. She was hacking up disgusting stuff. Complained of her chest hurting.”
    “You wouldn’t let her get medical treatment.”
    “She always had weak lungs. She’d recovered before.”
    “But not this time. So you killed her.”
    “I didn’t raise a hand to her. The disease killed her.”
    “But you left her there, didn’t you? Left her in that cabin to die alone.”
    “I had to go get supplies. I didn’t know she was going to be dead when I got back.”
    “Sure you did, you gutless son of a bitch. Abandonment is your specialty. When the going gets tough, you run.”
    He’d struck another nerve. Carl’s expression turned even harder, colder. And something else: defensive.
    “I never left anybody who could have made it.”
    “Jeremy could have. Flora could have.”
    “You through?”
    “One more question. Why us?”
    “What?”
    “Why kill us? Why aren’t you out blowing up a bus full of troops? My guess is that you’ve run out of steam. Without Jeremy, you’ve got no muscle. You’re all talk.”
    “Is that your guess?” His malicious grin made Dawson’s blood run cold. “Well, you’re wrong. This is perfect. See? I kill you, I crush Headly.”
    Dawson’s heart constricted. He thought, We’re dead , but he brazened it out. “Gary Headly? The FBI agent that Jeremy shot?”
    Carl snickered at Dawson’s feigned indifference. “I thought about taking out that pretty wife of his, but that’s so predictable. Headly would expect that, which is why she’s guarded.” Again that chilling grin. “This is much better. His godson . I kill you, he’ll never get over it.”
    “You’re right, if you kill me, Headly will grieve his heart out. But he’ll also have the last laugh on