“No, I don’t. That’s why my brothers will be camped out across the street in a clearing I’m familiar with. I got a friend who owes me one.”
“Thanks. Really appreciate that.”
“You know what Cade wants?”
“I have no idea.”
Tyson Cade was standing by the side of the cinder block building when Jason arrived. The dealer was eating a Twinkie and drinking a Sun Drop.
He walked over to Jason and hopped in the front passenger-side seat of the Porsche. “Here,” he said, reaching into his pocket for another Twinkie. “A little nourishment for you.”
“What’s this about?”
Cade pulled up something on his iPhone and then gave the device to Jason.
Jason studied the screen. It was a video of the Laundromat in the strip mall on Highway 69. The words at the bottom of the screen read, July 4, 2018. 9:00 pm.
Jason’s stomach clenched when he recognized Jana’s Mercedes SUV and a woman in the driver’s seat. It was Jana, no doubt about it. A few seconds later, a man climbed into the passenger seat of the SUV.
“Oh, no,” Jason whispered.
It was Waylon Pike.
Jason’s hand began to shake, and he peered at Cade, who was grinning at him.
He handed the phone back to Cade and gazed over the steering wheel out at Hustleville Road. “How’d you get that?”
“Let’s just say I have a close, personal relationship with the folks who run that Laundromat. They gave me the tape before the sheriff could ask for it.”
“Why’d you hold on to it?”
“Because I wanted my money. Jana owed me $50,000.”
“And I paid that. Why didn’t you have the tape magically turn up after I paid you?”
Cade glanced up at the sky. “It’s not in my nature to help the police.”
“Then why are you showing me now?”
“Because you broke your promise. You called Jana to the stand.”
“And she did you no harm. I looked out for you.”
Cade chuckled and hopped out of the convertible without opening the door. “And that’s why you’re not dead.” He leaned his hands on the side of the car. “But there had to be some repercussions. Besides, you should feel even better about yourself now. You helped a guilty client go free. I know who I’m calling if I ever get in trouble.”
Jason fought the urge to tell him to go to hell.
Tyson started to walk away and stopped. He took a long sip of Sun Drop and then crushed the plastic bottle in his hand. “You know something, Counselor? You want to know the real reason I didn’t do anything with that tape?”
Jason said nothing.
“I liked her.” Cade threw the bottle in the trash and gave his head a jerk. “I really liked her.”
Then he began to walk down Hustleville Road.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My wife, Dixie, is my first editor, and this story hatched during our many long walks together. I love walking through life with her.
Our children—Jimmy, Bobby, and Allie—are my inspiration, motivation, and joy.
My mother, Beth Bailey, as always, was, is, and will always be my biggest fan and greatest supporter.
My agent, Liza Fleissig, kept me focused and on task during a difficult year. I am so lucky to have an agent who is also my friend.
My developmental editor, Clarence Haynes, provided much help in the characterization of Jason Rich and the plot of the story. Excelsior, Clarence!
To Megha Parekh, Grace Doyle, Sarah Shaw, and my entire editing and marketing team at Thomas & Mercer, thank you for your support and encouragement.
My friend and law school classmate Judge Will Powell, as he has done for all my legal thrillers, gave insights and advice on criminal law matters and was one of my first readers.
Thank you once again to my friends Bill Fowler, Rick Onkey, Mark Wittschen, and Steve Shames for being early readers and encouraging me along the way.
My brother, Bo Bailey, has supported my writing dream from day one, and I am grateful for his help and steady presence in my life.
My father-in-law, Dr. Jim Davis, continues to be a source of positive energy and, as always, gave me an insightful read of the story.
My friend Jonathan Lusk was a valuable source of information for all things Guntersville and Marshall County.
My friends and lake neighbors Jason and Christy Reinhardt introduced my family to the Mill Creek area of Lake Guntersville.
My friend and classmate Roman Shaul, the general counsel for the Alabama State Bar, provided insight into the workings of the bar’s disciplinary process.