The Killing Game

He wasn’t completely wrong about Ben, and Emma ignored Andi and Carter’s hints about getting things under control, so the situation remained unresolved.

Andi hadn’t seen Emma in a few weeks; she’d been too involved in her move and trying to figure out why she was feeling so enervated. Now, she headed into the conference room early, already wishing the meeting was over. She had things to do, and since meeting with Luke, she felt a bit like a traitor to the Wrens, though there was no rational cause for that she could think of. Carter just had a way of making her feel like an outsider making outsider choices. She knew he wouldn’t like Luke being involved even peripherally with the Wren family.

And what do you think of Luke?

Her mouth curved, and immediately she dropped the smile from her lips, disconcerted. I feel safe, she told herself. Safer, at any rate. She didn’t know if she needed a full-on bodyguard, but Luke knew the Carreras and what they were capable of all too well, and he wanted, maybe even more than she did, to put them away. That was what counted: for her, for the Wrens, and for her baby.

At 9:55 Carter entered the room and sat down at the head of the table, Andi to his right. He pulled back his sleeve and shot a glance at his Rolex. “Well, here’s a surprise.”

Andi frowned. “You said ten o’clock.”

“Yeah, but you kind of stroll into the company whenever you like. I’m surprised you’re on time.”

“Don’t confuse me with Emma.”

“I assure you, I’m not.”

“I met you at the project and I’m at this meeting now, even though you’ve made it abundantly clear you’d rather I wasn’t invited to the party,” Andi answered coolly.

Carter glowered at her. He clearly didn’t like her attitude. Before Greg’s death she’d been a ghost around the office, and afterward she’d been discombobulated. “You’re invited, okay? Greg invited you.”

He looked a lot like Greg—same eyes, same hair, same build—but Carter was more devious, a card shark with a surprise ace always up his sleeve. “Do you ever wonder about his death?” she asked suddenly, surprising herself.

“What’s to wonder about? He drove off the road at high speed.”

“But he wasn’t under the influence.”

“It was late. Maybe he fell asleep at the wheel.”

Andi let that one go. She wasn’t exactly sure why she’d brought the subject up. She was certain Carter knew Greg had been with Mimi, but they’d never spoken of it.

Now, he asked, “Where are you going with this?”

“Do you think the Carreras could have been involved?”

“In Greg’s accident? No.”

“The Carreras are good at accidents.”

“Yeah, but to what end? The company goes on without Greg. You’re here now. That’s all that’s changed.”

“I disagree. The company’s been thrown into a state of flux. All of us have since Greg’s death.” She shook her head. “We’ve all been changed.”

“I never knew you to be so philosophical, Andi.”

“Other things have changed, too.”

“Like what?”

She thought about the baby. She had to tell them sometime. She’d told Luke, so maybe she was being too melodramatic about secrecy when it came to Greg’s family. They might not like it exactly—adding a new Wren to the nest, so to speak—but Carter would be the child’s uncle.

At that moment one of the double doors flew open and Emma Wren Mueller struggled into the room. Her purse slipped from her shoulder to the crook of her elbow and swung onto the back of one of the chairs. “Oops,” she said.

Like Carter and Greg, she had light brown hair, shoulder-length and a little uncombed today. Her eyes were dark brown, where her brothers’ were blue, and she’d Botoxed her forehead until her painted-on brows barely moved. As she flung herself into the chair opposite Andi’s, to Carter’s left, Carter’s neck turned dark red.

“What?” Emma demanded, looking at her brother. She scrabbled through her purse. “Traffic’s gotten ridigulous . . . ridiculous.” After a few moments she pulled out a tin of Altoids and popped one into her mouth. The peppermint scent couldn’t quite disguise the smell of gin.

“Goddamn it, Em,” Carter growled. “The lodge framing’s going well, in case you cared, but Dick had to let the framing foreman go because of drinking on the job. Now we’re bound to get behind, and look at you.”

“Dick?” Emma asked, which was Andi’s question, too.

“Dick Eggles, our contractor?”

“Oh, Richard,” Emma said, nodding several times. “Can’t he just hire someone else?”

“That’s exactly what he’ll have to do.” Carter was holding on to his patience with an effort. “But it’s one more goddamn delay.” He glanced at Andi and said provocatively, “Maybe we should have just sold out to the Carreras.”

“C’mon, Carter,” Andi said.

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