Disintegration

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

"Blood everywhere," Jacob said, mopping at the stains on the railing.

"No murder is perfect."

"And you should know."

"Live and learn. I guess you should go get Carlita. Think you guys will be happy together?"

"What do you care? You're getting what you want."

"Sure." With Joshua dead, Jacob would inherit the house. As Jacob's wife, no one would question her receiving it in the divorce settlement.

Jacob leaned over the railing. "He's downriver now. As drunk as he was, nobody will question a fall."

Renee glanced at her husband's exposed neck, alabaster in the moon's warm glow. The wrench lay on the seat of the Chevy. She could have it out and bring it down in a matter of seconds.

No. She loved him. And because she loved him, he owed her plenty.

Besides, another "fall" would be too coincidental. Divorce would be much cleaner.

Jacob didn't know it yet, but Renee planned on taking the two million, too. It wasn't blackmail. It was simply the price of pain and suffering.

"Go to Carlita," she said.

Jacob came to her, took her hands. He almost kissed her. Then he glanced up at the hill, where the Wells house stood dark and brooding, as if remembering some memory tucked in a far, dusty closet. The first flickers teased the windows, and smoke drifted on the air. Davidson and her crew would be on the way soon, late as always, left to sift through the ashes of the Wells family secrets.

"See you in court," Jacob said. He walked around the Chevy and slid behind the steering wheel. He looked at home there.

He grabbed the wrinkled pack of cigarettes and stuffed one in his mouth. He lit it, then reached under the seat and pulled out a beer. Warm, it sprayed foam all over his pants when he pulled the tab. He reached up and tapped the twin rubber heads, sending them swinging.

Jacob would never be Joshua, but he would enjoy trying.

He reached for the ignition and the engine burst to angry life. He shifted and backed the car off the bridge, waving before turning off the dome light.

Renee watched the headlight beams bouncing up the road.

She patted her belly.

She'd never mentioned it to Jacob. Three months along.

Of course, on one of those dark nights, it could have been Joshua who entered her bed and rode her into pregnancy. Stranger things had happened.

Not that it mattered.

A Wells was a Wells, after all. One was as good as the other.

And, if things didn't turn out as planned, there was always life insurance for the child.

A woman lived and loved, and a woman often lost. But, no matter what, a woman always learned.