Page 1 of Out of the Shadows (Angelhart Investigations)

Roger Rapperson drove the golf cart to avoid a caddie with big ears listening to this difficult but necessary conversation

with his in-house lawyer.

a.m. Sometimes he came alone, but usually he brought someone to impress or to pressure. He’d bought a discounted ten-year

membership to Saguaro Springs the day they announced their plans for a major remodel and facelift. The deal was generous and

the golf course was the first feature to be renovated. He didn’t care about the spa or the condos or the restaurants. All

he wanted was a well-maintained and challenging golf course.

“Floyd, I don’t think you understand the seriousness of this situation,” Roger said.

“I assure you, I understand. When I learned what Thornton did with the files, I did everything in my power to obtain them.

The law is clear on this point, and if I pushed any harder than I did, the manager of the unit would have become suspicious.”

To Roger, these were excuses, and he abhorred excuses from anyone he paid, from his employees to staff at the resort. He wanted

his will done , no excuses, no hesitation, no argument.

He was Roger Rapperson , dammit!

But Floyd was the firm’s lawyer, and he also answered to Roger’s partner. If Roger angered Floyd, he might tell Andrew what

was in Thornton’s files, and that would create an unnecessary and sticky situation. If Andrew knew the truth, Roger would

lose everything.

Thornton had assured him that all the files would be shredded upon his death. But apparently that order hadn’t made it to

the legal secretary who, instead of shredding the files, had sent them to storage.

Roger hadn’t even wanted to tell Floyd about the nondisclosure agreements. But he’d helped Floyd out of a jam, and the man

owed him one.

Still, Floyd worked for the company, so Roger tread carefully. “Just buy everything in that damn storage locker and burn it

all. Then I can rest easier.”

“I’m on top of it. No unit has been auctioned off for more than two thousand dollars, so five thousand should be plenty. They

require cash.”

Roger, who detested parting with money almost as much as he detested John Thornton for putting him in this uncomfortable situation,

said, “I’ll have the cash first thing in the morning.”

“Trust me, this will all be over by 5:00 p.m. tomorrow. But you know, Andrew is forgiving. You shouldn’t worry about what

he might think of you for paying off some woman because you had an affair.”

“I don’t want to risk it,” Roger said. “Since Andrew found Jesus, he can be weird about these things.”

It wasn’t that Roger had had an affair. It was who he’d had an affair with... and what happened after it was over.

But that was something Roger wouldn’t even tell Floyd.

While Roger and Floyd discussed obtaining John Thornton’s legal records through proper channels, someone else was planning

a burglary. He didn’t care about the paper files; he cared about one particular item.

Four months ago, he should have had it. He’d waited until John Thornton had left his house. Thornton had no security system,

but even if he had, it wouldn’t have been much of a problem. Inside Thornton’s house, he’d searched high and low: The box

was nowhere.

Then Thornton had come home.

He’d panicked. He hadn’t meant to kill him—Thornton was the only person who knew where the damn box was!

But the weak old bastard died—and the box was still missing.

Now it was found. He knew where it was and he would have it. He deserved it. He always got what he wanted, by any means necessary.