I was scared, angry, furious actually, understandably so. But the only thing that mattered was that second shooter also missed. It could be he was getting older, or it could be he missed deliberately. One way or another, I wasn’t sure I had guts to deliver the news to Elky Jennings. Definitely not before I was absolutely sure the guy on the roof was indeed a former bodyguard of my father. I pressed play once again. The glow from the laptop was the only honest light in the room. It cut a rectangle through the dark and splashed it across my cheekbones like a camera of a crime scene photographer with creative edge. I didn’t bother turning on the table lamp. That kind of warmth belonged in a different novel not concerned with family betrayals.
The footage jittered in front of me, making my sight blurry. I paused, skipped, rewound to the place with better quality.. The rooftop was like any other rooftop—flat, functional, unremarkable—until someone tried to kill me on it. Then it became wor
