Chapter 419 The Crazy Plan

Chapter 419 The Crazy Plan

A day had passed.

Gerald sat in the car, his face like stone, saying nothing. He turned his head toward the window, eyes narrowing at the sight of the local police station.

He had been here before. Archibald had kept his word, giving him the latest update on the case.

Just minutes ago, Gerald had learned the truth. Patricia had been the one who killed Harold.

The car door suddenly opened. Randy slid in beside him.

"Gerald, all the paperwork is done. The police have agreed to release Harold's body to us."

Gerald gave a slight nod but said nothing.

Randy studied him. His hair was unkempt, his clothes were the same as yesterday's, and the red in his eyes told Randy he hadn't slept a single hour since leaving the station.

"I only had one son."

The words came out of Gerald suddenly, his voice calm, but the air in the car seemed to drop in temperature.

Randy paused, his own tone softening. "I understand. When my child died, I felt the same way."

Gerald turned to look at him, remembering that Randy, too, had lost a son to violence.

A bitter smile touched Gerald's lips. "Look at us. You can still have another. I can't."

Randy's eyes flickered. Eric had guessed right — Gerald might not be able to have another child.

"What do you mean? If you want another child, it's not impossible. And if you don't want to betray your marriage, there are other ways. With modern medicine, you could—"

Gerald shook his head, cutting him off. His gaze shifted. "Your father passed away, didn't he?"

Randy nodded. "Yes. My first year at university."

"Were you sad when he died?"

Randy blinked. Of course he had been sad. He nodded again.

Gerald stared up through the car's sunroof, his tone strange. "Right. Who wouldn't be sad when their father dies?"

Randy felt a prickle of unease. Eric's warning echoed in his head. A chilling thought struck him — was Gerald thinking about killing Augustus?

A hearse rolled past their car, headed into the station. Moments later, it emerged again. Randy knew Harold was inside.

Gerald's eyes followed the hearse, narrowing, his expression darkening. He was thinking about something — and Randy didn't like the possibilities.

Eric's words came back to him, and a horrifying idea took shape. 

What if Gerald planned to blow up his own son's funeral — taking his brother, his father, and his nephew with him?

The thought made Randy's stomach knot. Given Gerald's current state of mind, it wasn't impossible.

"You know what I'm thinking right now?" Gerald's sudden question made Randy flinch.

Randy forced a knowing smile and nodded. "I imagine you're thinking about the good times you had with your son. That's what I thought about when mine died."

"That's you. Not me." Gerald's voice was flat. 

He studied Randy. "If I asked you to do something, would you refuse?"

Randy shook his head quickly. "You saved me. If you hadn't forgiven me back then, I'd be rotting in prison. I owe you my freedom. Whatever you need, I'll do it."

"Good. Then find someone for me. He makes fireworks."

Gerald handed him a business card, a faint, unreadable smile on his lips, then told the driver to head for the funeral home.

Randy kept his expression supportive, but inside, every instinct screamed caution.

At the funeral home, Gerald went alone to see Harold.

Harold lay in the cold drawer, his skin now an ashen gray. Silent. No more arguments. No more shouting matches.

Gerald looked down at him. Memories surfaced — not all good. More often than not, they were moments of disappointment, of comparing him to Jonathan, of harsh words.

"My good son," Gerald murmured, "you were trouble when you were alive. But in death, maybe you can still do one last thing for me. I'll remember you. Wait for me in hell. Men like us don't get into heaven."

He took one last look, then left the morgue and found the funeral director.

"My son was handsome in life. He should be just as handsome when he says goodbye to this world."

The director promised it would be done.

Gerald left. The man he had sent Randy to find was a skilled fireworks maker, and he also knew how to build bombs.

Later, after dropping Gerald home, Randy went straight to Eric.

Eric was coughing into a handkerchief when Randy told him everything. When he finished, Eric gave a cold, amused smile.

"That idiot Gerald isn't thinking of taking out his family at his son's funeral, is he? If he tries, I might be caught in it too."

"Sir, should we... deal with him first?" Randy made a cutting gesture across his throat.

Eric shook his head. "No. Let him have what he wants. I was worried we were running out of time. If he's moving early, we can use that."

Randy frowned. Eric was in a hurry — and that was never a good sign.