“Trent had to have told you more.”
“He said he couldn’t take the risk,” Atchison insisted. “He said he’d tell me when the time was right.”
She thought for a second. “If this guy is so slippery, how did Trent have proof of anything?”
“He got someone to talk. I don’t know how.”
“What’d he tell you about the safety deposit box?”
“He didn’t tell me about it, but my guess is Trent had proof of what Babineaux did, maybe a USB drive with information, something like that. And he hired people to go into the bank, made it look like a robbery, but they were after what he had.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Babineaux would go to those lengths to stop the story?”
He glared at her. “Don’t underestimate the man. He’s worth tens of millions, and he has every resource at his disposal. You don’t get into his position, or be about to get into politics, without being able to dodge some landmines.”
“Even committing murder?”
“Yes,” he said, barely audible. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
“What else might Trent have on Babineaux?”
“I don’t know. The police took Trent’s work laptop, but I’m sure there wasn’t anything on it. I heard whoever murdered him stole all the electronics from his house.”
“Anything stored in the cloud?”
“No. He worried that Babineaux could trace anything he stored there, and then he’d know what Trent had discovered.”
This is big, Jo thought.
Atchison snapped a single curse word, loud in the kitchen. “I was nervous before, but I haven’t slept a wink since Trent was killed. I don’t know what to do.”
“Talk to the police. They can put you under protective custody.”
He shook his head. “Babineaux probably has contacts on the force, somebody who’d tell him about me. I have to act as if things are normal.”
“That’s quite a burden to carry.”
He lifted a hand wearily. “What else am I supposed to do?”
She didn’t have an answer, and she knew how trapped he was. She was feeling the same way. If Babineaux had the resources she suspected he did, did he already know about her, and was he suspicious of her being at the bank during the robbery? If that was the case, what would he do with that knowledge?
The doorbell rang, and they both jumped. Fear filled Atchison’s eyes.
“Who could that be?” he murmured.
“I need to go,” she said.
He pointed to the sliding glass doors. “Be careful, okay? I’ll bet Trent isn’t the only person Babineaux had eliminated.”
She got up and went to the doors. Atchison didn’t stop her, only jumped again when the doorbell rang a second time. Jo opened the door, stepped onto the porch, and bent down to scoop up her belongings. She stuffed it all into her pockets as she ran across the dark yard and let herself out through the gate. Then she heard a voice.
“Don’t move.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
JD walked into his living room, his mind awhirl.
“Long day?” Lydia asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
He made a beeline for the credenza, where he fixed himself a Scotch & Soda. Lydia was sitting on a white couch with a martini in her hand. She rarely drank, and never got drunk, but she did enjoy the occasional glass of wine or a martini before dinner. She was dressed simply, in white slacks and a lavender silk blouse, and he thought she’d never looked more beautiful. In his opinion, she could wear a gunnysack and she’d still be gorgeous.
However, he didn’t like the pensive look etched on her face. He hid a grimace—he did not need this.
“Everything okay?” he asked as he sat down in the wingback chair across from her.
“Hm?” She turned to look at him. “Oh, yes.”
“Kline said you turned down another driver today.”
“Yes. I didn’t like her. She was too brisk, not at all friendly.”
Classical music played softly, and Lydia wiggled her foot nervously as her gaze drifted to floor-to-ceiling bookcases on the far wall. She loved books, had them all over the house. They were clutter to him, but if she wanted them, she’d have them.
JD rubbed his chin, giving himself time to think, and time to gather some patience. He had too much else going on—the usual work stuff—but he was also worrying about those other things. Lydia needed to be protected as well, though, now maybe more than ever. If his political career took off, there’d be even more scrutiny on her.
“Perhaps you’re being a little too fussy?” he asked.
