Chapter 49
Troy was scared. He slung the empty can across the kitchen and reached inside the fridge for another.
The milk he shoved aside was expired. He slammed the fridge door, shook the magnets holding his little girl’s artwork.
His gut clenched. Goddamn it all to hell.
He looked around at the empty kitchen. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink. The whole place was a wreck.
Patricia had left him.
He popped the top on the beer and guzzled it down in one long, sucking swallow.
He exhaled a belch and tossed the can in the corner with the last one.
One can at a time just wasn’t doing the job.
He dived back into the fridge and grabbed a fresh six-pack and stalked off to the living room.
He flopped into his recliner and popped the top on another.
The pain started to swell again and he tried his best to wash it away with more beer.
Keith was dead. And it was his fault.
He gulped down the rest of the beer and slung the can away.
This time instead of reaching for another beer he picked up the .
38 Smith & Wesson lying on the table next to his chair.
He stared at its inviting black barrel. He should just blow his damn brains out and be done with it.
His life was over. He’d lost his sister.
He’d lost his wife and kids. He’d lost his best friend.
The man responsible for all of it was walking around free. Happy-fucking-go-lucky like nothing had ever happened. Clint Austin had come back to this town and torn it apart.
Someone had to make him pay.
Troy laughed at himself. He’d been saying that for a damned week and he hadn’t done a thing about it except break a few things and tear up a few damned pictures. He’d just gotten drunker and passed out.
He’d called Keith a coward when he was the coward.
His fingers tightened on the butt of the weapon.
By God it was time he made this right. He knew one surefire way to lure Clint Austin into a trap.
Emily Wallace.