Page 9 of The Fourth Option
“You too. Been a minute, hasn’t it?”
“Too long.”
“Leigh Ann, I’m so sorry, I…”
“No, we’ve been through this and that’s not why I’m calling.”
“Oh?”
“I reached out because something’s going on down here. God, it’s…”
“What?”
She coughed as if stalling for time.
“Connor… is…”A sharp breath.
“Leigh Ann?”
“I’ve got to get used to saying this.”She paused.“Connor’s dead.”
Walker’s spine stiffened. Paladin raised his head, sensing the shift.
Connor Staub. John and Leigh Ann’s son. Dead? Last Walker heard, the kid was headed to a master’s program at Columbia University Journalism School after finishing his undergrad at LSU.
As an NYU grad, Walker respected the move to the Big Apple, the ambitious swing. He had even taped an envelope to the cabinet with Leigh Ann’s name on it, meant to help with Connor’s tuition.
“He’s… how? When?”
Leigh Ann’s voice was muffled, as if speaking through gauze.“A month ago. He was chasing a story, his first real one. Wanted it to be big. An exposé. It got attention from the wrong people. He got too close.”
“He was murdered?”
Leigh Ann’s voice came through weaker now.“Yes.”
“Who did it?”
“I don’t know, I mean I do know.”
Walker could hear her sobbing.
He waited a few seconds before speaking.
“Leigh Ann, I am so sorry.”
Her sobs turned to deep breaths as she regained her composure.
“If there is anything I can do?” The words felt hollow.
A memory intruded, one of knocking on doors in his service dress blues. He pushed it away. That was a different life.
“There is, Chris.”Her voice was stronger now.
“Anything.” He saw John Staub looking up at him, knowing he would never make it home.
“I need you to find out who did it.”
“What? Leigh Ann, I’m not the police.”
