Chapter 5
Wainwright Estate
Donald Wainwright prepared himself a double of the Kentucky bourbon he preferred and settled on the sofa to savor the burn. Lately, though, even his favorite whiskey seemed bland.
Life at home was bland.
His wife had already drunk herself into oblivion and gone to bed as she did every night. Claimed it was the only way she could endure being married to him.
He’d almost gotten used to her cutting remarks, had thought that nothing else she could say or do would get to him. But he’d been wrong. This evening she had announced that she planned to have an affair. With the mailman, of all people. How cliché was that?
For God’s sake, why had she felt compelled to tell him?
There hadn’t been much to say after that. He had mentioned, however, that discretion would be in her best interest if she had any aspirations of making it to the governor’s mansion alongside him.
But then he hadn’t really needed to point that out. The bitch wasn’t going to screw up her chance to be first lady of Alabama. She liked the notoriety far too much to allow anything to get in the way.
Funny. The first twenty years of their marriage had been perfect. Perfect wife, beautiful and intelligent; perfect kids who grew up to be a doctor and an engineer. His own career had not once stagnated. What more could anyone ask for?
Then, twelve years ago, things had changed. Maybe he worked too much, maybe she drank too much. Whatever the case, they had slowly drifted apart.
He downed a generous gulp of bourbon. His work would just have to continue to make up for the lack of affection his wife showed him. For him, an affair was out of the question. He’d watched too many of his friends fall into that trap and pay the staggering price.
He would simply do what he always did . . . work.
Today had gone well. Stokes had gotten what he deserved, and the city could rest easy knowing that two of the most heinous crimes in its history were now solved. Stokes would never harm an innocent victim again.
It was done.
The past that haunted Carson Tanner was behind him now. He could focus on the future and stop rehashing old details.
If he would. Don had to see to it that he did. Some things were better left in the past. He’d groomed Carson to replace him in the position of Jefferson County District Attorney. Don owed Carson’s father that much. Don blinked, forced those painful memories away.
The past wasn’t the point. Carson was by far the best man for the job . . . if that damned past didn’t get in his way.
Don didn’t have to worry. Carson would not let him down.
He could count on that. Everything was finally falling into place. Nothing was going to get in the way of his bid for the governorship.
His cell phone rang, the sound mocking, as if to refute his closing argument.
His wife would call it intuition; he simply called it waning odds. Things had gone far too smoothly for far too long for his luck to continue.
His instincts hummed with dread as he accepted the call. “Wainwright.”
“The situation we anticipated has been set in motion.”
Don’s insides cramped. That was not what he’d wanted to hear. There had to be some mistake. Even so, surely it wasn’t too late to salvage the situation. Not like last time. “I could—”
“You understand what has to be done. An accident would be preferable, of course.”
Don sat immobilized for five seconds before he dredged up the necessary response to the irrevocable order. Desperation screamed at him to challenge the verdict. But he knew. Once the decision was made, there was no stopping the momentum.
He cleared his throat. “I understand.”
The call ended.
There was nothing he could do now.
It was done.