When All the Girls Have Gone by Krentz Jayne Ann

Author:Krentz, Jayne Ann [Krentz, Jayne Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Mystery, Suspense, Contemporary, thriller, Crime
ISBN: 9780399174490
Amazon: 0399174494
Goodreads: 29429938
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2016-11-29T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 33

Trey Greenslade parked the old, battered pickup behind the row of closed-up cabins. He got out, careful to keep the bulk of the truck between himself and the lodge buildings. He kept the driver’s-side door open and positioned himself behind it.

He had bought the pickup at a used car lot shortly after he had discovered the truth about the past. He had known then that the time would probably come when he would need a vehicle that would not draw attention on the mountain roads.

He had a talent for planning ahead; for strategy. It was why he would be the one to take control of Loring-Greenslade.

When he had come across the mysterious cash withdrawals in his father’s financial records—withdrawals that had occurred like clockwork every few months for over a decade—he had assumed that the old man had kept a mistress on the side. It had amused him to think that the domineering, self-righteous bastard had been such a hypocrite.

True, an illicit love affair that had lasted well over a decade didn’t amount to much of a character flaw. But to the people of Loring, who had long since put Gordon Greenslade on a pedestal, it would have come as a shock to know that he had cheated on his wife and lived a secret life for years.

Trey had pondered whether or not to tell his grandmother what he had discovered. It would have been amusing to see the expression on the old bitch’s face when she learned that her firstborn son had kept a secret lover. But he had concluded it would be more interesting to figure out the identity of the girlfriend first.

It was only when he had taken a closer look at the timing of the withdrawals that he had realized just what he had uncovered. The shock had hit him with the force of a backcountry avalanche.

The payments had started less than a month after the Pruett case had been dropped by the detective in charge. That could not be a coincidence. His father had been paying blackmail for years to keep him from being identified as a suspect.

But the real fright had set in when it dawned on him that he had no idea of the identity of the extortionist. It could have been almost anyone in town—another student or a member of his old fraternity, maybe—someone who had seen something that night. It could have been a janitor or a professor who was able to place him at the scene. Maybe there were photos.

He had been very careful that night, but Pruett had been his first. He hadn’t yet gotten the strategy down perfectly. There had been problems. The stupid woman had fought him. She’d scratched his arms. He’d had to wear long sleeves for days afterward. He’d worn a condom, but in his rush to escape the scene afterward, he’d lost it. What if there was a surveillance camera that he hadn’t noticed somewhere on the path or in the parking lot where he had left the car? He’d heard that Pruett had insisted on an examination at the hospital.

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