“Losing your dream in life might make someone do crazy things.”
Kisha gave a swift nod. “Might.”
“So Trey Cowan is a possible avenue of investigation,” Jason said. “Do you know where I might find him?”
“He goes to the Brick for happy hour a lot during the week,” Teresa said. “I see him almost every time I’m there.”
“He also umpires baseball games out at Ogletree Park, but the season’s almost over,” Kisha said. “The Brick’s probably your best bet.”
“Thank you.”
For the next thirty minutes, they made small talk, and Susan took their orders. Jason requested a french dip, which turned out to be outstanding. Kisha asked him if he was going to visit his family home, and Jason avoided the question, saying he wasn’t sure. He had so much to do.
As they were paying the tab, Jason thanked the couple and insisted that the meal was on him. As they walked outside, Jason took in the cooler air and was thankful for a reprieve from the heat. He hugged both women and then caught Kisha’s hand.
“Can you think of anyone besides the Cowan family who might’ve had a bone to pick with Braxton?”
“Maybe the CRNA? Her name’s Colleen Maples, and the gossip is that she and Dr. Waters had recently broken off their relationship.”
Jason glanced down at the sidewalk and then back up at his old friend. “Any other avenues worth pursuing?”
“Only one, but I’d think hard and fast before I went down it.”
“Tyson Cade,” Jason said.
Kisha squeezed his hand. “Be careful.”
32
Tyson Cade watched the tracking app on his phone, which showed Jason Rich’s Porsche as a red dot approaching Blount Avenue. If he were coming back to the hotel, he would have needed to head south on Gunter, but it looked like the lawyer was moving north.
Interesting, Tyson thought. Was he going back to see his nieces again? If so, there was no choice but to wait. Tyson wasn’t a patient man, but he gave it five more minutes. Rich’s car appeared to stop for a few minutes, and Tyson figured that the attorney was getting gas at a convenience store. Then the red dot continued along Highway 431. When it passed Buck Island Drive without turning, Tyson rose from his seat and paced until he noticed the dot turning onto Highway 79.
Then he snapped his fingers and punched a button on his cell. “Change of plan.”
“But we’ve got everything set up here,” an anxious voice answered.
“I don’t care,” Tyson said. “I think I know where this bastard’s going.”
“It’ll be easier to get the drop on him when he comes back here.” The voice on the line continued to sound agitated.
Tyson watched his screen as the dot slowly moved down Highway 79, otherwise known as Scottsboro Highway. “I’m not sure if he’s coming back.”
33
Jason turned left onto Mill Creek Road and let out a deep breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He passed by the first few houses, wondering if any of the neighbors were the same from when he was a kid. As he reached the two-story home made of wood and rock, he felt a lump in his throat. He parked in the concrete driveway, cut the ignition, and eased out of his vehicle. Then he fumbled through his keys until he found a rusty gold one that he hadn’t used in three and a half years.
Jason trotted up the steps that led to a stoop and then the front door, almost able to hear the thudding of his heart. He stuck the key in the hole and twisted, half expecting it not to work.
“I’ll be damned,” Jason said as the door gave and he pressed across the threshold. A pungent, musty odor almost made him gag. The heating and air had been turned off, and the house was hot. Instinctively, he reached for the light switch by the door, but it didn’t work. Obviously. Jana must have turned off the electricity and water soon after their father died.
The door opened into a den with a fireplace and then a large kitchen with a double island. To the right of the den was his parents’ bedroom. He glanced inside, remembering how he’d slept between them on stormy nights when he was young. Jason was now sweating profusely, partly from the heat, partly from the feelings the place brought back. He stepped into the bathroom and gazed at the shower where his father’s heart had stopped working. He wondered sometimes about his dad’s final moments. Where had he left his phone? How far had he crawled to get it? As he struggled for breath, what had the old man been thinking about?
Knowing his father, Jason suspected that Lucas had been focused solely on survival. But what about after he dialed 911? In the minutes before the ambulance arrived? Did he think about me? Did he have any regrets?