A Killer's Agenda by Anita M. Whiting

for you,” Alex said, not at all sure that it had been. The man was too smooth, too silky with his answers. “Did you have any idea why your wife was in that section of town that particular day? My understanding was that her interest was
    primarily in very expensive jewelry. Doesn’t fit with the dirty industrial area where she was found.”
    Russell Ferron’s eyes darkened, although the amiable smile
    remained in place. “What’s this really all about? I’ve put up with a ridiculous amount of questions already from every sheriff and wannabe cop from here to the Gulf, not to mention all the media that hounded me for months after my wife’s death. Unfortunately, the final result was that the police concluded Anna was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Fate if you will.”
    “Not necessarily,” Alex said, watching him closely. “We have reason to believe, Mr. Ferron, that your wife’s death wasn’t as accidental as it appeared.”
    The smile left his face. “What is that supposed to mean?”
    “It means, Mr. Ferron, that we think there is a connection
    between the other drive-by shootings that occurred before and after your wife.”
    Russell straightened, his brows drawing together. “What other shootings?”
    “Your wife was only one in a line, at recent count, of six people killed in exactly the same way.”
    A flicker of something passed across the man’s face before he shook his head emphatically. “That’s ridiculous. Anna was in a bad neighborhood for God knows what reason and paid for it with her life. It was a cruel twist of fate, but I refuse to believe it was
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    anything other than that. Besides, if the authorities felt that way I’m sure I would have been told about their suspicions.
    “We don’t have enough evidence yet for them to become
    involved,” Alex replied. “That is where you come in, sir.”
    A diamond glinted on his finger as Ferron waved his hand
    dispassionately. “If you don’t have enough evidence after almost a year, Miss Leahy, it would seem to me that doing further
    investigation would simply be a waste of time.”
    “Perhaps, but it’s our time to waste, isn’t it?” she said calmly.
    “I guess it is at that. What is it you want to know?”
    “Did your wife have any enemies? Anyone who might have
    wanted to kill her and make it look like an accidental shooting?
    Perhaps someone who lured her downtown with the idea of
    murdering her?”
    His brow knitted. “Not to my knowledge.” He passed a hand
    over his eyes and took a deep breath. “All I know is I wish to God I had been with her. Maybe things would have turned out
    differently.”
    “Do you miss your wife, Mr. Ferron?” Alex asked baldly.
    His eyes snapped to hers. “What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I miss her. She was everything to me.”
    “And now you have all those millions,” Brad muttered.
    It took a moment or two for Brad’s words to sink in. When they did, the blue eyes hardened as he stood abruptly.
    “That’s the end of this discussion, sir. I don’t like your
    insinuations. For the record, I loved my wife, Mr. Norton. If you are suggesting I had anything to do with her death, you’re way off base. Continue spreading such ridiculous rumors and I’ll sue you
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    so fast your head will spin.” He walked to the door and opened it pointedly. “Good afternoon. I’m sure you can find your way out.”
    Alex put a hand on his arm. “Mr. Ferron, forgive us for being insensitive. Mr. Norton lost his own aunt about six months after your wife in the same manner. The similarities between the two deaths can’t be ignored. If you think of anything that might help us, please call.” She handed him her card and, after a brief hesitation, he took it, glaring at Brad over her head.
    “You’re damn lucky I like and respect your father, Norton.
    Otherwise I wouldn’t even consider assisting you with this
    endeavor.”
    “I assume, Mr.