Dead By Morning by Beverly Barton Read Free Book Online Page B

plan.”
    â€œWhich would make me phase two, right?”
    Maleah shook her head and waved her hand in the air. “It’s all conjecture at this point. I’m probably talking nonsense. I shouldn’t come up with conspiracy theories when I’m tired and sleepy and can’t shake a bad headache.”
    â€œLook, I’m going to leave you alone so you can finish eating, grab a shower, and then go to bed.” Nic rose to her feet. “We’ll both have clearer heads in the morning and be able to get a fresh perspective on things.”
    Maleah stood and walked Nic to the door. They exchanged hugs and pecks on their cheeks. Once Nic walked down the hall, Maleah closed the door, leaned back against it, and closed her eyes.
    â€œI’m so sorry, Noah. Sorry that you were so brutally murdered. Sorry that I didn’t ask for details about your death when your sister called me. Sorry that I didn’t love you enough to marry you.”

    Griff poured Macallan single malt Scotch whisky into two glasses, handed one to Derek and lifted the other to his lips. After taking a sip, he motioned for Derek to take the left of two leather chairs flanking the seven-foot-high rock fireplace in his private study. As Griff sat in the opposite chair, Derek studied the man briefly, noting the weariness in his expression. The four recent Powell Agency–related deaths had begun to take a toll on the seemingly invincible billionaire.
    â€œI had Sanders put a call in to the Georgia governor,” Griff said. “I saw no point in wasting my time going through the normal channels to acquire visitation privileges for you and Maleah at the Georgia State Prison.”
    Derek nodded. Why indeed? There would be no point in Griff calling the prison’s warden when he was on a first name basis with the governor.
    Born into a wealthy, old Southern family, Derek had taken for granted all the things most people struggle for on a daily basis. His mother hobnobbed with other society matrons, his sister married a suitable young man from a proper family, and Derek’s grandparents had left him a trust fund worth more millions than he’d ever spend in one lifetime. Griffin Powell had been born dirt poor, but was now one of the wealthiest men in the world. No one knew how the former UT football hero had earned his billions during the ten years after he had mysteriously disappeared.
    â€œI’d rather not send Maleah to do the initial interview even if she is one of our best agents. But under the circumstances, I feel she’s the only choice. The killer didn’t choose to copy the Carver’s murders without a reason.”
    â€œYou’re assuming Maleah is the reason, right?”
    â€œIn a roundabout way,” Griff said. “He wanted a connection between the killer he copied and one of our agents. It could be a coincidence that Maleah is that agent. Or it is possible that Maleah’s friendship with my wife is the reason. What hurts Maleah hurts Nic and what hurts Nic hurts me.”
    â€œThat’s the way love and friendship works.”
    Griff took a hefty swallow of the aged whisky. Holding the drink in one hand, he absently stroked the side of the glass with his other hand, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the smooth surface.
    â€œDo you think Browning personally knows our killer?” Derek asked. His gut instincts told him that the Powell Agency killer and Browning were at the very least acquainted. Possibly friends. Or more likely, student and teacher.
    â€œProbably. What do you think?”
    â€œProbably.”
    â€œBrowning could well be the key to unlocking our killer’s identity.”
    Derek took his first sip of the premium Scotch whisky. He wasn’t a drinking man himself, but he did enjoy an occasional sip of the good stuff. Not that he was a teetotaler by any means. But seeing what alcohol addiction had done to his father and older brother made Derek