Читать книгу Colby Law - Debra Webb - Страница 8

Five Hills Apartments, 2:00 p.m.

What now? What now?

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. She had a plan, a carefully laid plan. This could ruin everything! She paced the small studio apartment. Back and forth, back and forth. Perhaps the problem was only temporary.

At the window, Clare Barker peeked through the slats of the yellowed blinds covering her one portal to the outside world. The car was still there. Oh, no, no, no. Who was this man watching her? The warden had relished telling her that as soon as she was delivered to this location she was on her own. She knew what he wanted—he wanted some vigilante to carry out the justice the whole world believed had been denied by an appeals court. Her lips tightened. But this man had not gone away. He was not supposed to be here! He changed everything.

Her fingers knotted together as the worry rose in her throat once more, the taste as bitter as yesterday’s coffee dregs. He had sent this man to kill her. She knew it! She just knew it. It was the only way to stop her, that was for sure. He would know his options were limited. Had he prepared so well?

Rage boiled in her belly. But he would fail. The fury stretched her lips into a knowing smile. He would fail.

More than twenty years she had planned this moment. He would pay for what he had done to her. No force on earth could stop her without sending her to hell first.

Time was her most fierce enemy. There was no room for distractions. Clare turned away from the window. Her reflection in the mirror mounted to the bathroom door of her efficiency apartment snared her attention. She was old now. The lines of her frown were deep and ugly. Her hair more gray than the blond it had once been. She touched the shaggy ends she had bobbed off to her ears. No use making it easy for anyone looking for her. She studied the hollows beneath her eyes and the crow’s feet nothing short of a face-lift would remedy. All those years within those stark, punishing walls had stolen her youth, her beauty. She had nothing left, save for this long-awaited final act of retribution.

Clare went to the tattered sofa, where her most prized possessions were arranged like a shrine. She lit the small candle on the end table and dropped to her knees. Confident in her ability to overcome all blockades thrown in her path, she studied the photos lined up against the back of the worn cushions. Each one would soon know the truth. Each one would feel her pain and finally understand what only a mother who had sacrificed so much could.

And before they answered to their maker for their sins, each one would realize that it had never been

what if wicked old Clare won one of her many appeals. It had always been simply a matter of time.

There was no escaping destiny.

Clare bowed her head and began to pray. She prayed for strength, for courage to stay her course. Once it was done, she cared little what happened to her.

She lifted her gaze to the photos worn by time and the caress of her fingers. Mommy was here now. The waiting and wondering would soon be over.