Page 17 of The Smart Killer (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #4)

“Don’t be stupid. C’mon,” he said, leading him upstairs.

The three of them glanced into a room for teens.

A few were passed out on oversized bean bags.

Zeke passed the room, entered a second, and told everyone to get out.

They exited, and he pointed to the sofa.

“Make yourself comfy. You want a drink?”

“Sure,” Ethan said.

He handed him a bottle. “I bet your old man doesn’t let you have that.”

Ethan shook his head and looked as if he was about to say something but became distracted as Darla sat beside him and placed a hand on his leg.

Zeke smiled. Gavin was a damn genius. Most teens were na?ve, kids just wanting to fit in and run with the crowd, and he had given that to them along with the one thing they craved the most — belonging.

Ethan took a swig and then spat it out. “That’s not beer.”

“No. It’s something better.”

“Hey, man, I don’t do drugs.”

“And yet you sell them.”

“No, I find people for Richy to sell them to.”

“Which incriminates you as much as him. Look. We like to ensure that our top sellers are familiar with the product. You might find yourself in situations where a buyer might become spooked. You know what would spook them?”

“What?”

“Finding out that your father is a cop.”

Zeke’s words hung in the air as he sipped on an actual beer, studying Ethan’s response.

“So? He doesn’t know if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s good, but my question is why?”

“Why what?”

“Why haven’t you told him? And why should I believe anything you say?”

“Do you see cops busting in here?”

“Not right now.”

“I wouldn’t do that,’ Ethan said.

“All right. But I’m asking, why?” He paused and took another swig.

“Teens in here come from troubled backgrounds. It’s pretty obvious why they do it.

Either they enjoy the cash, they want to get fucked up, or they just simply don’t care.

But you. You’re an anomaly, Ethan. Why would you…

coming from a squeaky-clean household, want to taint that clean record by getting your hands dirty? ”

Ethan leaned forward. “Maybe I don’t care.”

“And yet you are hesitant to test the product.”

“Like I said, I don’t do drugs.”

“So, you’re here for cash or… is it something deeper?” Zeke grinned. “What about your mother?”

Ethan’s reaction was noticeable. He glanced down and then met Zeke’s gaze. He didn’t need to explain, Zeke had seen that same look in another’s eyes. His own. It was one of grief and loss, or just pure letdown.

“She’s dead.”

Zeke stared back. “All right. Now we’re getting somewhere.” He leaned forward. “Now that’s a reason. But still, I’ve got to ask. Don’t you care what your old man thinks?”

“Like I said, I don’t do drugs.”

“Then I’m afraid you can’t continue with us.”

“Richy doesn’t do it.”

“He will. Everyone will. New rules. It’s like buying a car from one dealer only to find out the salesman drives a different vehicle.

It’s not a good look. It doesn’t inspire confidence.

But in your case, it’s even more problematic.

People who buy from us return because they know they can trust us.

Could you really say they could say the same for you? ”

“I don’t sell them. I point out people with shady backgrounds.”

“And where did you get this information from?”

Ethan said nothing.

“Come on, Ethan. Don’t drop the ball now. You’ve come all this way. The perks of this business are right here before you. The foot soldiers out there don’t see this room, or get to mingle with people like Darla. And believe me, Darla will take care of you. Won’t you, Darla?”

She ran a hand around Ethan’s head, her fingers through his hair.

“My grandfather kept records of every lowlife in High Peaks as sheriff. When they renovated the building and made all the files digitized, they planned on burning the older files. You could say my grandfather was a little old-school. Instead, he kept many of them. He showed me. Hard copies. He wanted me to understand the kind of people that roam High Peaks, and the reason why he became a cop, and the reason why he thinks I should eventually follow in the footsteps of my old man.”

Zeke broke into a smile. “But instead, you’re using that information to sell.”

“I’m not selling. Just pointing in the right direction. Richy gives me a cut.”

“Which is why he didn’t tell us about you until recently.”

Ethan nodded. “I can’t be getting involved.”

“And yet you are. The next level is calling you, Ethan. You and I are very alike. You have your finger on the pulse of this town. And I have a finger on the pulse of what makes this town rotten to the core. Drink up or leave. Your decision.”

Ethan stared at him then glanced at Darla. He picked up the bottle and took a hard pull on it.

“Attaboy!” Zeke said, rising from his seat. “Take good care of him, Darla,” he added, leaving the room and closing the door.

As the night wore on, the thumping music in the background drowned out the nagging voice of doubt in Zeke’s mind and the conversation with Gavin.

He had come a long way from the high school dropout scraping by for survival.

Now, he was a kingpin in the making, a puppet master pulling the strings of an intricate web of deception.

But as he looked around at the chaos he’d orchestrated, Zeke couldn’t shake the feeling that his empire of deception was built on shaky ground. How long could he keep this facade intact before things went bad? Only time would tell, and in his world, time was always in short supply.