Dead Man's Hand by Luke Murphy

”
    Sanders twitched, as though Doug ’ s question had startled him out of a trance. He stared at Doug as if he hadn ’ t known the man was in the car with him.
    “ There ’ s something you need to see , ” Sanders said.
    “ What ’ s in the bag? ”
    “ After I show you something, we ’ ll talk about what ’ s in my bag. ”
    Five minutes later they were driving through a heavily forested area .
    “ It ’ s in there, ” Sanders said, pointing to the woods that surrounded the region.
    Doug balked. This was idiotic. What was Sanders going to show him—bleached bones from a murder? Or was this really some sort of truce, Sanders thinking about a partnership with a prime piece of real estate to invest in. Doug knew Sanders always had a motive for money. This are a could work for a casino/hotel.
    He didn ’ t like it, but his curiosity was overwhelming and stronger at the moment than his fear. He had to know what was so important to see or discuss about his wife that Ace would drive him out to the middle of nowhere. Ignoring his every gut instinct, he slowly got out of the car.
     
    Ace sat in the idling car and watched as Grant got out and look ed around. He had worried that Grant would refuse to go along and felt for the knife in his jacket.
    Then he joined Grant. “ T his way , ” Ace said, motioning.
    They moved past scrub and over thick grass. It was hard to see more than a few feet ahead.
    “ Why didn ’ t you bring a flashlight? ” Grant asked , a tremor in his voice.
    “ I know where we ’ re going. ” After a few more steps, he said, “ I t ’ s right in there. ”
    Grant slipped past him , parted the shaggy branches and leaned forward .
    Ace took a step closer. Perfect.
    He yanked Grant ’ s head against his shoulder, thrust the knife deep into one side of Grant ’ s throat, then sliced all the way across with such force he could feel the knife ’ s edge slide along Grant ’ s spinal cord. Masses of blood gushed and spurted from the wound.
    When the trailing tip of the hunting knife left Grant ’ s throat, Ace let the limp body drop to the ground. Looking into his victim ’ s dead eyes, he smiled with intoxicating pleasure and wiped most of the blood from the blade, using Grant ’ s expensive suit as a towel.
    With the calmness of a seasoned veteran, he walked back to Grant ’ s car , opened the passenger door and took out his leather bag, careful not to leave any bloodstains on or inside the car. He opened the bag, pulled out a couple of towels, a shirt and a pair of pants , and set them to the side.
    Unbuttoning his shirt, he removed the bloody garments and gloves and threw everything into the leather bag, including the knife and its sheath. With the towels, h e wiped all the blood off hi s body that he could see . He put on a fresh shirt and pants, closed the leather bag, made sure it had no blood on it anywhere and put it back in the passenger seat. Then he pulled on a new pair of clean gloves, eliminating any possibility of prints on the steering wheel.
    He needed to go back to the mall, pick up his Ferrari and leave Grant ’ s vehicle abandoned there. The only tread marks the police would ever find at the murder site would come from the tires on Grant ’ s own car.
    Ace glanced at the body in the bushes and frowned. Pitt wouldn ’ t be happy. Pitt had told him to leave the body in Grant ’ s office, but that had never been Ace ’ s intention. It would have been too risky.
    It just wasn ’ t in the cards .
     

 
     
    Chapter 8
     
    Calvin was jolted from an uneasy sleep by the phone. He reac hed across the bed and answered with a hoarse voice . “ Yeah. ”
    “ Get your ass out of bed, ” Pitt said.
    “ What is it ? ”
    “ The Grant job. Come to the office for the info. ”
    Calvin glanced at the bedroom clock. Seven o ’ clock was way too early for Pitt and he had not gotten over his improbable story about the loan, or his worry about collecting from someone so