Bodyguard by Melanie Shawn
41
Savannah
I trembled with rage.Who did this jackass think he was? “What the hell are you talking about? What did my father ever do to you? Besides blow the whistle on a corrupt organization, and testify in court despite the danger to himself. And to me. Besides be a hero.”
Woodward sneered. “Your father was no hero. You think he was a whistleblower? Like, he just happened to stumble on some shady activity and approached the authorities? No. Your father was in it up to his neck.”
That stopped me in my tracks. “What? What are you talking about?”
Woodward stopped and looked at me curiously, like I was some kind of science experiment or alien life form. Then he laughed. “Oh, shit. You really don’t know anything, do you? About what your father did for Barlowe…about the trial. Anything.”
It felt too humiliating to shake my head, confirming my ignorance, so I just stood stock-still and stony-faced instead.
Woodward grinned and shook his head, his old arrogance back in full effect. “Wow. You’re in for a real shock then. I hate to have to be the one to tell you this—”
He didn’t really look like he hated it all that much.
“—but your father wasn’t some innocent bystander. He was Barlowe’s best cooker. Not only that, but he developed a formula for a new kind of drug. Intense high. Cheap ingredients. People on the street couldn’t get enough. Barlowe was raking in money hand over fist.”
“What was the catch?” Bear asked. “There’s always a catch.”
“There sure as hell is,” Woodward said, getting into the rhythm of his story and picking up momentum. “Teenagers started dying. Almost right away. Two or three a week. Spread over a few states, so the authorities didn’t put it together right away. But your father did.”
“See?” I said weakly. “He might have had a…bad job, but he didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
Woodward shook his head. “Maybe. Or maybe he just didn’t want the heat the investigations would bring down. Either way, Barlowe got wind of his reservations and decided your father was no good to him anymore. That was when he tried to have him taken out. But it backfired. In more ways than one. It was what landed him in our laps, first of all. And got us his testimony. Which, granted, only got Barlowe a five-year stretch. But, still.”
“What other way did it backfire?” Bear asked.
“Your father was clever. I’ll give him that. When he wrote down the formula, he changed it a little. Not enough to be noticeable, but enough to change the end result. Barlowe was never able to find anybody that could replicate it. That’s why he was looking for your father so hard. That’s why he came after him. Not to kill him. To get him back.”