He drove to Gray's home, made a brief inspection of the interior, found nothing of interest there, and then walked toward the cliff at the rear of the property. He stared down at the thrashing water of the bay below before glancing out at the fully formed storm front that was not making the nearby murder investigation any easier. Knox eyed the fringe of woods that ran by the right side of the house. He walked through the trees and quickly calculated that a path through here would take one up to the gravel road that Gray's motorcade had used.
He looked back at the cliffs.
And wondered if it was possible.
With the right man there was only one answer to that question.
Yes.
He climbed back in his Rover and headed to the second murder scene.
Roger Simpson.
The great state of Alabama was suddenly one senator short.
And without even seeing the circumstances of Simpson's death, Knox instinctively knew he was looking for only one killer.
Just one.
CHAPTER 4
AS SOON AS ANNABELLE stepped on the front porch she saw it. Alex Ford did too. They'd just gotten back from dinner at Nathan's in Georgetown. It had become a favorite haunt of theirs.
She pulled the knife free, unfolded the letter and then glanced around, as though she expected the person who'd delivered it to still be nearby.
She and Alex sat in front of the empty fireplace while she read it. She finished and passed it across to him, waiting in silence while he read it through.
"He says for you to pack up and move. That people would be coming to ask questions. You can stay at my place, if you want."
"I guess we knew it was him, didn't we?" she added.
Alex looked at the letter. "'I've had many regrets in my life,'" he said, reading from it. "'And I've lived with them all. But Milton 's death was my fault alone. I did what I had to do. To punish those who needed to be. But I will never be able to punish myself enough. At least John Carr is finally dead. And good riddance.'" He looked up. "Sounds like a man who did what he believed needed to be done."