Page 8 of Marked By Obsession

The images before me told the full story of the man who had been unwise enough to place himself between me and what I wanted. Declan had a way of making these things look like accidents and that was another thing to add to the appreciation list that I could dedicate to Declan. This one would be ruled a suicide; I was sure of it.

Gary had threatened to expose certain irregularities in the shipping manifests unless I paid him double what we’d originally agreed upon. The word blackmail never entered our conversations, but that’s what it was. I don’t respond well to extortion, no matter how it’s packaged.

“Clean?” I asked without looking up from the photos.

“As it gets,” Declan replied from his position near the door. “No witnesses, no cameras in range.”

I nodded as I studied Gary’s face in one of the photographs. His expression had captured surprise rather than fear, which suggested Declan had been efficient. Good. I didn’t enjoy suffering for its own sake. Violence was a tool, nothing more, and sometimes it had to be used for my benefit.

“The weapon?” I asked.

“Disposed of. Components scattered across three states.”

“And the vehicle?”

“Rental under a dead man’s license. Returned to a different location than where I picked it up. They won’t connect it.”

“Transfer to your account will clear by morning,” I said, already moving past the matter. Gary was handled. The deal would proceed. That’s all that required my attention.

“Appreciated.” Declan shifted his weight slightly. “Anything else you need?”

“Do you have an update on Sutton?” I did my best not to sound desperate and I think I achieved my goal.

“Tuesday,” he began. “My team reported that she left her condo at six-fourteen. Stopped at the coffee place down the street from Prescott Vantage.” He paused. “Arrived at the office, had a big client meeting that lasted almost three hours and came out looking like she’d won something. Lunch at her desk.” Another pause. “Left at six forty-eight. Went straight home. Lights out at eleven.”

I listened to all of it the way I listened to everything Declan brought me. I wasn’t surprised that she’d come out victorious in a meeting with her clients because she almost always did. I would find out what by morning. The desk lunch meant she was working through something significant. The early departure, early for her, I might add, suggested she was tired. Good for her for knowing when to call it quits this time.

I knew her routines better than she did. In the beginning there had been gaps, patterns I hadn’t yet understood and behaviors that required context I didn’t have. Those gaps were gone. I could reconstruct her interior state from the external data Declan brought me with an accuracy that would have disturbed her if she knew.

“The Thursday before,” Declan continued, “she had dinner with the friend. Cassie. A wine bar, it’s one they’ve been going to off and on over the years. Spent about two hours, fifteen minutes. Sutton did most of the talking. Whatever she was saying she didn’t want overheard. They sat in the corner of the establishment. We couldn’t get close enough for audio without risk of being discovered.”

“That’s fine. Anyone around her I should know about?” I asked. The question was routine. I asked it every time. The answer was almost always the same.

“No one serious,” Declan said. “If I had to make an assumption based on the data we’ve gathered, she’s too busy.”

I wanted to say excellent, but I settled with, “Good.”

She was not easy to impress and I appreciate that about her. Things like sweet talking and charming didn’t work on her the way they worked on other people. Which meant that what I was doing, like being patient and building this up over the last three years, was not excessive. It was simply what she required and it’s what she deserved.

Most men would never have understood that. And I did everything in my power to make sure that no one ever stepped near what was mine. That was the difference between me and every other man who had ever looked at Sutton Prescott and wanted her.

They had wanted. I had decided.

“Same schedule next week,” I said.

Declan stood. “Anything specific you want flagged?”

“Her mood,” I said. “Going into the next stage of this operation, I want to know if anything changes. If she’s distracted, if something at work goes wrong, if the friend dynamic shifts.” I paused. “I want her in the right state when we meet again.”

“Anything else?”

“That’s it. I’ll be in touch.”

He left without another word. I gathered the photos and slid them into a folder that would be shredded before the night was over. Evidence retention served no purpose once a matter was resolved.

Neither did sentiment. Gary had made a calculation and the solution had not been in his favor. He’d been dead wrong and that was the entirety of the matter. No harm, no foul.

Well, except there was harm and foul done to Gary.