Going to the Bad by Nora McFarland Read Free Book Online Page A

intention of sitting all day in a waiting room like a useless piece of furniture. This time I’m asking questions and getting answers.”
    Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult for Warner, but his eyes shot to me. “This time? If unanswered questions about your father’s death are motivating you now, then I’m truly sorry. That’s my fault.”
    Last year Warner had tried to bribe me. Through corporate espionage, he’d supposedly obtained internal documents from my father’s employers—a rival to one of his own companies, Warner Petroleum. These documents supposedly laid out a case that the accident that killed my father was a suicide. Since I’d refused to make a deal with the devil, in this case Warner, I’d never seen the contents of the file.
    I’d thought about it a lot over the past year, not that I would have admitted it, even to Rod. I’d decided Warner had hit on a truth I’d been denying—that my father had been a withdrawn depressive—and then lied about the rest to manipulate and control me.
    â€œYour father’s death was an accident.” His eyes looked directly into mine, despite his labored breathing. “I made up the business about suicide because I was desperate. I needed to silence you for my daughter’s sake.”
    Even though his statement confirmed what I’d already decided, hearing the words loosened something inside me that had been tightly coiled.
    But that didn’t mean I was ready to abandon my questions about Bud. “I appreciate your telling me, but my father’s death is old business. Right now I’m more interested in why Bud was shouting your name into a phone yesterday.”
    â€œI don’t know, but it couldn’t be related to his shooting.” Warner was now having serious trouble breathing. “Go to the hospital and be with Bud. I won’t keep you any longer.”
    He gestured to the nurses. One hurried over to the bed and adjusted his oxygen. The other opened the door and called to Frank.
    â€œI’m not leaving,” I said.
    Frank approached from behind and took my arm. “That’s not your decision to make.” When I refused to yield to his gentle tug, he let go. “This is private property. If you don’t voluntarily come with me, this can and will get physical.”
    Frank didn’t make idle threats, so I relented.
    After he’d shut the bedroom door behind us, his demeanor changed. “Thanks for coming. I’ve got an army of guys working security here, but it still would have been a pain in the butt to force you out.”
    â€œYou could thank me by being honest. Has my uncle been in contact with any of the Warner family lately?”
    Frank started down the hall. “Mr. Warner’s not in the habit of taking the hired help into his confidence.”
    â€œYou must know where enough of the bodies are buried to be considered more than hired help.”
    â€œI’m not complaining. Mr. Warner’s been very nice to me overthe years.” He probably had—financially—but I doubted Warner’s generosity had extended to actual kindness.
    We exited that wing of the house and walked down the steps to the landing in front of the glass wall. Despite everything on my mind, I couldn’t help stopping to look at the oil field. I wondered what the view would be like at night when all those beacons and flashing lights burned in the darkness. Would it actually be pretty?
    I glanced straight down and saw the river Erabelle had mentioned crossing as a girl. A picturesque wooden bridge straddled it just below the house. Maybe Warner was sentimental if he’d left it standing all these years.
    Frank chuckled. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the stop-and-look-at-the-scenery type.”
    â€œIt’s not scenery. It’s a freak show.” I turned from the window and discovered that Frank had continued up