Leslie Parrish - Pitch Black

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

He shrugged. “Not like livin’ in here is so great I’m gonna miss it.”

“There’s nothing-”

“I guess convicted felons don’t shoot right up to the top of the transplant list.”

She disliked this man, hated everything he had done and all he represented, but Sam almost wished she could reach out and touch his hand, offer a moment of human warmth. Dying in this place was a harsh punishment, even for all his crimes.

“Hello, Mrs. Dalton, nice to see you again,” said the attorney, extending his hand.

“Mr. Carter,” she said with a smile. The fiftyish lawyer, who was well-known and highly successful in Baltimore, had been very helpful when she’d been working on her book. He had even made himself available to answer her questions long after the prison interview, insisting on the privilege of taking her to lunch to do so. Recently widowed, he had seemed rather lonely.

“Have you been getting my letters?” Jimmy asked.

“Yes.” She hadn’t opened those letters, not in a long time. Not since the one when Jimmy had claimed he’d taken vengeance on her behalf.

“Thank you for seeing us, Mr. Flynt.” Alec stepped into the line of sight between Sam and the convict. “I’m Special Agent Lambert. Why don’t we sit down?”

Jimmy shuffled to the side to peer around Alec. “You doing all right?”

Sam nodded briefly, then gestured toward the table and chairs. Once they were all seated, Alec tried again to engage Flynt in conversation. “As you might have been told, I’m interested in talking to you about your past. We’re not trying, in any way, to implicate you further. We’re just hoping some of your knowledge could assist us in future investigations.”

Flynt didn’t even glance at him. “Aren’t you hot in that coat, Samantha?”

Sam shifted on the hard chair. Yes, she was hot; she could feel a line of fine sweat on her upper lip and along her hairline. The room was already warm, and the bright overhead lights didn’t help. Despite that, she managed a smile. “I’m fine, thanks.”

Alec leaned over the table. “Mr. Flynt-”

“You don’t look fine. You should take it off.”

“Jimmy, look,” Sam said, feeling Alec’s impatience, “I really would appreciate it if you’d talk to Agent Lambert. He came here today specifically on my recommendation.”

The convict’s rheumy eyes widened in pleasure. Knowing how his mind worked, she imagined he was building up quite a scenario about how impressed she must be by him. Flynt might have stolen millions, but at heart he was still a petty crook. He just used computers as his weapons, rather than standard burglary tools.

“I would consider it another personal favor if you’d help him out.” Swallowing her own revulsion, she added, “You know, because of my family background.”

Jimmy’s quick, indrawn breath said he’d taken that exactly the way she’d intended him to-as an acknowledgment that she believed he had already done her a favor. A big one.

“You’re welcome.” He cast a questioning glance at his attorney. “This is all off the record, right? Nothing I say can be used against me?”

Carter confirmed as much with Alec, then nodded once. “You’re free to speak.”

“Good.” His thin, bony hands twisted together on the table and he said, “ Course, it probably wouldn’t matter, even if you could use it against me. I’ll be dead long before anybody can convict me of shivving another inmate.” His eyes gleamed as he added, “It was worth it, Samantha, for what him and the others did to you and your poor grandma. I never preyed on old folks, never stole a dime from somebody who couldn’t afford it.”

She doubted that.What she didn’t doubt, however, was the passion in Jimmy’s voice. This didn’t seem like the BS line she had expected from the man. It sounded, in fact, as if he almost believed every word he was saying.

Sam’s breaths quickened, coming from a shallow place in her lungs, and her head suddenly seemed a little light. The heat, probably.

But maybe more. For the first time, she wondered if there was a kernel of truth in Jimmy Flynt’s story. If he really had found one of the nameless, faceless men she’d hated for so long, and done something to him.

Was it possible?

“He was a bad man,” Jimmy said, as if knowing what she was thinking. “Tried to deny it, but I knew the truth about what he did to your grandma, wiping out her retirement and all.”

The room spun, and she clutched the edge of the table to keep herself grounded. Yes, Sam had given interviews when the book came out, and had touched on a personal, family reason for her actions. But the details Flynt provided weren’t something that would be easy for him to find out, especially not while incarcerated, legally prohibited from going near a computer.

“He won’t be stealin’ some other old lady blind, driving her to a heart attack, ever again.”

Sam rose to her feet, unsteady though they were. How could he know that? Unless it was true. Unless this other thief had realized one of the victims he’d scammed had died during the height of the torment. She swayed a little.

“Sam!” Alec leaped up beside her, and, across the table, Flynt and his lawyer rose as well.

Alec slid a steadying arm around her waist. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered. Closing her eyes, she wiped the back of her hand across her brow, feeling the moisture there, using it as an excuse to cover her shock. “I’m just hot. I need to step outside and cool off.”

“Take her coat off her,” Jimmy snapped.

Alec ignored him and led her to the door. The guard immediately opened it. But before she stepped out, Sam knew she had to do something or the interview would be over before it began. The minute she left, Jimmy would lose his reason for cooperating.

Yet she couldn’t stay. She just couldn’t.

Swallowing, she forced a small smile and looked over her shoulder at the man. “I’m fine, really. It’s my own fault; I can’t take my coat off because I forgot about the dress code.”

His mouth rounded into an O, as if he imagined she was wearing nothing but a bikini under the coat.

Swallowing a grimace, she continued. “Jimmy, I need to get outside, but please, can you just try to help Agent Lambert here, as a personal favor to me? It’s very important to me, and I’d be forever in your debt.”

The inmate’s sallow face split into a broad smile, and his sunken eyes almost sparkled. All because he was going to get to do her another favor. Something personal. Something he thought would make her like him?

God, if she didn’t feel ready to faint, she’d probably burst into tears. Confused by her conflicting feelings of revulsion and sorrow, horror and gratitude toward the man, she didn’t know how she was going to get past them.

So she did the only thing she could. Even without a confirmation that the inmate would do as she asked, or that Alec would get his interview, Sam pushed out of the room, leaving Jimmy Flynt and his pathetic existence behind her.

Wyatt Blackstone was not a prideful man. Yet if he ever did think about his one personality trait of which he could be proud, it was his ability to remain fully in charge of his emotions.

He’d seen as a young child the horror that ensued when someone reacted from a place of anger, jealousy, or resentment. Having firsthand knowledge of the dangers of being a slave to feelings, he never allowed emotion to do a job meant for intellect. Even when he’d been targeted by people he had once admired, he’d somehow managed to restrain himself and face his colossal career crisis impassively. At least in the daylight hours, when anyone else could bear witness.