It was a rant, Jason knew. He’d met several people, men and women, during his group sessions at the PAC who would go on and on about all their misfortunes, continually saying the same thing over and over again until the therapist mercifully cut them off and tried to redirect them to the main issue: their alcohol and drug problem.
Jason attempted to do the same thing here. “Jana, I understand that you have a lot to get off your chest, but I need you to answer some basic questions.”
“OK,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Shoot.”
“Where were you the night of the Fourth of July?”
“I was at Fire by the Lake. I wanted a nice spot to view the fireworks and have a couple of drinks.”
“Who were you with?”
“By myself. I spoke with the bartender. His name’s Keith, I think. Maybe Kenny. He’s nice, and I’ve seen him there numerous times.”
“What were you doing drinking alone?”
“I didn’t want to be at home. Braxton’s been cheating on me for years. He’s screwing his nurse anesthetist, Colleen. He’s turned the girls against me, brainwashed them into thinking I’m crazy. All I wanted was to have a few drinks.”
“When did you leave?”
“About nine.”
“Then?”
“Are you going to take my case?”
“I don’t know. Why does that matter?”
“Is this conversation privileged?”
“Yes. It’s a consult. I’m your attorney for the limited purpose of this meeting. Everything you tell me is protected by the attorney-client privilege.” He paused. “What happened next?”
“I drove to a strip mall about a quarter mile down Highway 69. I parked and a man got inside.”
“Waylon Pike?”
“No.”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know.”
“Exactly what I said. I don’t know.”
Jason frowned. “What happened then?”
“I gave this man some money, and he gave me a ziplock bag with a gram of cocaine inside.”
“Jesus Christ, Jana.”
“Fuck you, J. J. You’re the addict, remember. So I did some coke because my family was falling apart and my husband was boning another woman. What’s your excuse?”
“How much did the gram cost?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“I don’t remember.”
Jason just stared at her.
“I don’t.”
He knew she was lying but decided not to push it. “Then what happened?”
“He got out of the car, and I drove to the Hampton Inn.”
Jason added that to his timeline on the notepad. “Why?”
Jana cleared her throat. “My husband was having an affair. I was lonely and angry.”
“You do any of the coke?”
“Two lines in the parking lot of the hotel. Another once I got inside my room.”
Jason made more notes. “Who’d you meet?”
“Does it matter?”
“Well, it could provide you a complete defense to the crime if whomever you met backs up your story.”
“No, it won’t,” Jana said. “They’re saying I paid Pike to kill Braxton. It doesn’t matter where I was. I could have stayed at Fire by the Lake. I could have been at the Hampton Inn. I could have been on fucking Mars.”
“Good point. But humor me. Who’d you meet at the hotel?”
She peered down at the table. “Tyson Cade.”
Jason felt a trickle of fear run through him as he remembered what Harry had told him. “The meth czar of Sand Mountain,” he announced. “Good grief, Jana. Why in the world would you get mixed up with a guy like that?”
She scowled at him. “When was the last time we spoke, Jason? Dad’s funeral? You abandoned me when I needed you most. When my world was falling down all around me. When my husband started conspiring to ruin everything I’d established in this town. I started doing coke to take the edge off and give me more energy for all of the bullshit I’m involved in. DAR. PTA. Hospital boards. Blah. Blah. Bullshit. Bullshit. And, yes, I was having sex with my supplier because I owed him money. There. Happy?”
“I thought Cade was a meth dealer.”
“Tyson does it all.”
“You always were attracted to talent. So is that what you did? You drove to the Hampton Inn and fucked Tyson Cade all night. Were there any other takers? Did any of his sergeants take a turn?”