The Sixth Man (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 5)

“We’re not splitting up again. Every time we do something bad happens.”

Michelle looked up at Kelly Paul. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

“I didn’t expect to be here.”

They went inside where Mrs. Burke had clearly been fussing over Michelle. She checked her bandage and brought her another cup of coffee before leaving them alone. Megan was sitting in the front parlor, a cup of tea cradled in her lap.

“People keep dying,” Megan said in a faraway voice.

They all looked at her but said nothing.

Megan turned to Paul. “You’re not going to pull a knife on me again, are you?”

“Not unless you give me reason to, no.”

Megan shuddered and fell silent.

“Tell us everything you remember about last night, Michelle,” said Sean.

She did, interrupted only by questions posed by Sean or Paul.

“So Murdock knew or had discovered the existence of the E-Program?” said Sean.

“Well, he got cut off by the shot, but I think so. And he talked about certain people in D.C. who might have a reason to want to harm Edgar Roy.”

“By framing him?” asked Sean.

“Well, considering he could get the death penalty if convicted, yeah.”

Sean looked at Megan. “What’s the status on the case?”

“I’ve been drafting motions but I need you to look them over.”

“Okay. Have you heard anything from the prosecutor on the case? Any notice from the court?”

Megan shook her head. “There’s no one left at Mr. Bergin’s office. But I’ve been checking e-mail and voice messages. The case is technically in legal limbo because of Roy’s mental condition. But the court ordered periodic evaluations done on him to see if he’s mentally competent to stand trial. One of those is coming up soon.”

Sean glanced at Paul. “How would you like to see your brother?”

She turned to him. “When?” she said slowly.

“How about now?”

CHAPTER

50

BECAUSE HE HAD ABSOLUTELY ZERO other options, Bunting made the trek once more, going from rich, busy Manhattan, to poor, just as busy Manhattan. He looked up and saw the sign: Pizza, $1 a Slice.

If only he were here for pepperoni and cheese. Right now he was so angry he could barely contain himself. He wanted to hit something. Or someone.

He walked up the six flights. He was in good shape, worked out regularly at his members-only club, but for some reason he felt winded and sweaty when he reached the top.

He knocked.

The door opened.

James Harkes stood there, dressed exactly as before. As Bunting was ushered in he wondered if the man’s entire wardrobe consisted of the same color suit, shirt, and tie, namely black, white, black.