Page 127 of The List

He rambled through the desk drawers. In the second one he found a Woods County telephone directory. He opened to the yellow pages and scanned the section for dentists. Three names. Spencer, Molis, and Young.

Molis. The recall triggered what else his mother said. New to the area, came about five years ago, young, reasonable about appointments.

He quickly dialed the number.

“This is Brent Walker. My mother Catherine is there having her teeth cleaned. Is she still there?”

“No, sir, we finished with her a few minutes ago. She’s already gone.”

He hung up.

Damn. Any other time she’d have to sit an hour in the waiting room. He dialed home again but still got only the answering machine. Unfortunately, she did not own a cell phone. No need, she always said.

His panic cemented.

Hamilton Lee would do whatever was necessary to get what he wanted. Of that he was sure. If that meant harming his mother, or maybe Ashley and Lori Anne, that’s exactly what he would do. Greene pushed his luck. He was not going to make the same mistake. He had to get everyone close to him out of Concord. But he knew he couldn’t leave the mill. That would only point De Florio directly toward them. What he needed was to keep them out in the open, around people, away from the privacy De Florio and his associates liked to use.What to do? Think.

Yes. That’s it.

He reached for the phone and dialed again.

9:35A.M.

FRANKBARNARD’S CELL PHONE SPRANG TO LIFE.

De Florio was calling.

“That older woman you’ve been monitoring along with your main interest, please be ready to process her after 10:01. A criminal implication is preferred. I will text when to move.”

“Understood.”

He hung up.

Barnard had been stationed outside the mill at a convenience store, ready to pick up Reed or Walker if either left the plant. He knew Victor Jacks was inside the mill, still dressed as a security guard, there to directly deal with Reed if necessary. He cranked the car engine and drove west toward Concord. Ten minutes later he cruised down Live Oak Lane, making a cursory pass in front of the Walker house, noticing no Prius in the drive. He rounded the corner and parked the next block over. He then made his way backon foot and approached the house from the rear. The dead bolt on the rear French door took twenty-eight seconds to trip.

He stepped cautiously inside.

The house seemed quiet, apparently empty, but he decided to be sure. Confirmation came on the refrigerator door where a printed card from the office of Dr. Ryan Molis showed that Catherine Walker had an 8:30 dental appointment today. He searched the kitchen drawers and found a sharp boning knife. The meaning from De Florio’s instruction of “criminal implication” was clear. After he slit Catherine Walker’s throat, he would ransack things, stealing just enough to imply a drug-related burglary.

He crept to the front of the house and studied his watch.

9:52A.M.

Catherine Walker should return shortly.

He stationed himself in the front parlor, with a clear view of the driveway out the windows.

And awaited further orders.

9:54A.M.

BRENT DIALED THE NUMBER FORGRACETANNER.SEVENTY-THREEyears old, a widow, she’d lived next door all his life. She was a lot like his mother. Fiercely independent, did all her own yard work, and possessed the kind of personality people instantly liked. Two rings and the irritating recording announced, “We’re sorry, your call cannot be completed as dialed.” He’d apparently pushed the buttons too fast, so he cleared the line, calmed down, and dialed again, this time slower, making sure he hit the right keys.

Three rings.

Four.

Five.