electronics.”
Vamping desperately, Matt said, “You know, some of those remote receivers are kinda twitchy. Like if there’s a cell phone on the same frequency…”
The other man hesitated, and Matt feared that his bullshit had been detected. But Brady only said, “Ask Everett about it.”
“Sure.” Matt shrugged, deliberately casual. “I could also look over the circuitry. Never hurts to have an extra pair of eyes on a job, just to be sure.”
Brady took the bait. “Yeah, have a look. We’re loading the truck in the morning.” He looked supremely satisfied. “It’s time for some fucking payback.”
“You think it would make you feel better, don’t you?” Matt asked Elena that night as he swabbed his wounds with disinfectant.
She was immediately defensive. “What?”
“Blowing me away.”
Elena didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. Matt went on. “You think it will make losing your brother less painful. Let you move on and get back to your life. Assuming you don’t get locked up for murder, that is.”
She didn’t blink. “That’s the risk I have to take.”
“For justice,” he said.
“Yes.”
He nodded, taping a fresh square of gauze on his shoulder. He’d been lucky, he knew. If she’d shot a couple of inches to the left, he’d probably be dead. “What do you plan to do about the nightmares?” he asked.
She started to protest, but he cut her off. “I know…you won’t have any nightmares. Because I deserve it and you’ll be doing the right thing.”
“Yes,” she said again. Matt remembered that kind of certainty. He missed it.
“Problem is,” he told her, “that won’t make any difference.”
Elena stared at him, dubious. “What do you mean?”
Matt allowed himself a wry smile. “Turns out that even if the person you kill is undeniably bad, even if you do it to save innocent lives…you will never forget that person’s face. You’ll see it every night. You’ll see all of them.”
He turned on her, pointing at his own face. “You ready to carry this with you? To have the image of your bullet going through my skull haunt you for the rest of your life?”
For a moment he thought he’d made a dent in her armor. She looked away. “You’re just trying to talk me out of killing you.”
“That too,” he admitted. “But I’m not lying.”
She didn’t answer, her face still turned to the wall. Matt let her be. He settled down on the carpet, head on his duffel. It promised to be another long, sleepless night.
CHAPTER FOUR
As soon as Kathy Lennox opened the front door, Matt wanted to apologize. She looked appropriately festive in a skirt, sweater, and pearls. His “best” clothes were a pair of gray pants and a faded blue shirt he’d slept on last night. Still, he’d felt presentable enough, at least until he worked up a sweat riding here on his purloined bicycle. Now, he knew, he was a mess.
To her credit, Kathy didn’t hesitate to give him a warm hug. “Happy Thanksgiving,” she said. “I’m so glad you could come.”
The Lennox home was beautiful, much bigger than Sheridan’s. Matt wondered how much a civil servant pulled down these days. It was decorated in tasteful neutrals with bursts of color from several large flower arrangements. The only flaw Matt could see was a section of wall that had been patched but not yet painted.
Kathy caught his glance. “Sorry for the mess. We just moved in a month ago.”
Now Matt was even more impressed by the showroom elegance of the place. Kathy led him into the living room, where Lennox was sitting with a couple in their early sixties. All were dressed impeccably. Of course.
She made the introductions. “You’ve met Tom. This is my aunt and uncle, Diane and Edward Williamson.”
Her uncle stood and held out a hand. “Call me Eddie.”
“Matt Cahill.” He shook the man’s hand and smiled at Diane, who looked briefly dismayed by Matt’s appearance but recovered quickly.
“Get you a