“It was confirmed the day before he died.”

“So that much was true. Once Foster knew he had his child and heir, he wasted no time setting me up to be silenced forever. Only his plan backfired, and he died instead.”

“How? How, Griff? What happened when you got to the house?”

“Manuelo let me in like before. Poured me a drink, then left Foster and me alone in the library, behind closed doors. We toasted our success. He started talking…well, bullshit. About how delighted the two of you were over the pregnancy.”

“That wasn’t bullshit.”

“Yeah, but…but it was the way he was telling it. He got choked up, or pretended to. He told me you’d never looked so beautiful as when you said, ‘We have a baby,’ and how meaningful that word we was to a man in his condition.

“He told me your breasts were tender, that you wouldn’t let him touch them and how embarrassed you’d be to know he’d told me that. He talked about the baby. Could I guess what it would be? Had I thought about what it might be when we were making it? He reminded me that I’d have to read in the newspaper whether it was a boy or girl. I wouldn’t know its name until I read about it.”

Griff gave a bitter laugh. “Looking back, I can see that he was goading me. He was saying things he knew would get under my skin. At the time I just wanted him to shut up about you and the baby. I didn’t want to hear what a happy little family the three of you would be.”

He gave her a significant look, wondering if she could read between the lines. He guessed she could. She lowered her gaze to her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap.

“He showed me my payoff money. The sight of it made me sick. Sick at my stomach, sick at myself. Marcia claims she never feels like a whore, but when I looked down into that box of money, I did. Our deal wasn’t illegal, but I felt a lot guiltier taking Foster’s money than I did taking the two million from Vista, and that’s the God’s truth, Laura.

“I didn’t even want to touch it, and he sensed that. He said he was surprised by my restraint. I mumbled some excuse for it. Then he started laughing and said, ‘Oh dear, you don’t want it to end, do you?’”

Laura looked at him sharply. “What?”

“Something like that. He began gibing me about developing a taste for you like I had the gambling. He said I must have really enjoyed ‘doing’ you, and that’s a quote. He was giving me this gloating smile. Thinking about it now makes me angry all over again.”

At the risk of casting doubt on his innocence, he reined in his anger and stuck to the facts. “I called him a sick fuck. He wouldn’t shut up about it and started saying over and over, ‘Poor Griff.’

“The taunting made me irate, Laura. I admit that. I felt myself about to lose it. Wheelchair or not, I wanted to deck him. I wanted to so bad I had to turn away. When I did, I looked down at the desktop. Swear to God I didn’t see the letter opener. Or if I did, it didn’t register. What I noticed was this sheet of paper with official-looking writing on it.

“Foster backed down then. He stopped that hideous chanting. I don’t know if he sensed how close I was to knocking him across the room, or if he saw what had caught my eye. But in any case, he said, ‘Oh, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? That’s my proposal for what should happen if both Laura and I die before you. Read it.’

“At that point, I just wanted to conclude our business and get the hell out of there before I did something I would regret. So I picked up the sheet of paper and began to read. Or tried.”

“It was gibberish.”

Surprised, he said, “You’ve seen it?”

“Rodarte gave it to me, asked if I knew what it meant.”

“Okay, so you know it was a ruse. I’d belted the strong bourbon. And I was still seeing red over the things he’d said. I thought that was why I wasn’t understanding what I was reading. I went back to the beginning and started over. And that’s when I sensed movement behind me.”

“Behind you?”

“Manuelo. I hadn’t heard him return. Foster was probably doing that ‘poor Griff’ bit so I wouldn’t. I caught a glimpse of Manuelo just in time.”

Reflexes, honed by years of dodging tacklers, had kicked in. He’d moved sideways only a fraction of a foot, but it was enough to neutralize Manuelo’s lunge toward him.

“Unfortunately, his reflexes were almost as quick as mine, and he was able to wrap his arms around me, one at my throat, the other around my rib cage. You know how wiry and strong he is.”

She nodded.

“He began to squeeze. He felt like a python around me.” Griff remembered struggling, clawing at the man’s arms. He broke Manuelo’s skin with his fingernails but achieved nothing else. For a man so short in stature, the aide had astonishing strength. His muscles had been conditioned to place pressure where pressure was desired, and to do so with absolute control.

They’d engaged in a macabre dance, going round and round, knocking over the end table, sending objects to the floor, breaking a lamp. “I tried like hell to break his stranglehold,” Griff went on, “if only for a millisecond, long enough for me to take a breath. Nothing worked.

“Soon, I felt myself growing weaker. Black dots appeared in my field of vision. I’d had the wind knocked out of me and lost consciousness on the football field, so I recognized the signs and knew I was on my way under. But I could still see Foster sitting in his wheelchair, slapping the arms of it in sequences of three, muttering ‘Do it, do it, do it,’ also in sequences of three.”

Laura pressed her fingertips against her lips.

“Are you believing any of this, or am I wasting my breath?” he asked.

“Go on.”

“You’re not gonna like what I’m about to say. I was on the brink of blacking out when I realized what I think I knew from the moment I met him. He was a lunatic.”

“Don’t-”

“No, Laura. You’re going to hear this. He was insane. At least on some level. What man in his right mind, married to you, would ask another man to have sex with you? Pay him to. For any reason.”

She didn’t produce an answer, and Griff hadn’t expected one. “I’m convinced now that doing away with me was his intention all along.” She was about to protest, but he spoke before she could. “Think about it. He was fanatical about keeping our agreement a secret. In order to guarantee that, I had to die. Leaving me alive was untidy. For a compulsive cleaner, I was an unacceptable wrinkle in the bar towel, a water spot on the granite. He insisted on perfection, and for his plan to be perfect, I had to be eliminated.” He paused, then said, “Him I could understand. But I wondered about you.”

“Me?”

“Were you in on it, Laura? Was this your plan, too?”

“I’m not even going to honor that with a response.”

“Why’d you go to Austin that day?”

He listened as she explained the circumstances. “Whatever happened that night, I wasn’t a part of it,” she said with heat. “I didn’t even know you’d been to the mansion until Rodarte told me your fingerprints were on the murder weapon.”

He dragged his hand down his face. “I didn’t think you would plot my death, but when my lights were going out, the question did flash through my mind. Were you conveniently in Austin so you wouldn’t have to witness my murder?”

“You truly thought that?”

“Uncanny how clearly you see things when you think you’re about to die. You’d refused to talk to me after our last afternoon together.”

“You know why I didn’t, why I couldn’t, talk to you, Griff.”

“Guilt.”

“Yes.”

“So maybe the only way to rid yourself of your guilt was to do away with me.”

She looked at him, her gaze unflinching.

He sighed. “Okay, I know better. But that’s what went through my mind. But then, just as I was about to lose consciousness, a worse thought occurred to me. You were in on Foster’s secret, too.”