Tyson waited while the waitress placed his beer in front of him. Then he took a long pull from the mug. “I’m feeling better already,” he said.
“Good. Then why don’t you get out of here.”
Tyson’s grin faded. “Because there’s something else I want from you.”
“What’s that?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Fifty grand. Your sister owes me quite a bit of money for her coke habit. I’ve got some angry suppliers that haven’t been paid.”
“She paid you fifteen grand the night her husband was murdered. That’s why she took out the money.”
“Says who?”
Goose flesh broke out on Jason’s arms. “You, I thought.”
“I never said that. Is that what Jana told you?”
Jason kept his mouth shut as the waitress handed Tyson a box. He opened it and stuck a slice in his mouth.
“You’re playing games with me,” Jason said.
Tyson took his time as he chewed his food. When he was done, he downed the rest of his beer in one gulp. “That’s not my style, Counselor.” He got up and leaned close enough to where Jason could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Fifty grand cash. Meet me at the Alder Springs Grocery on Monday with it. Comprende?”
Jason found he’d lost his voice.
“Counselor? You care about those nieces?”
“Of course I do,” he replied, his voice suddenly hoarse.
“Good. I’ll see you on Monday.”
45
An hour out of Montgomery, just south of Birmingham, Jason couldn’t take it any longer. He got off at the Calera exit and stopped at a Chevron station that had a liquor store attached to it. He bought a pint of Jack Daniel’s and a six-pack of Yuengling. Once back on the interstate, he opened the whiskey and held the bottle to his lips.
He’d been operating under the theory that Jana paid Tyson Cade $15,000 the night of the murder for cocaine because that’s what Jana had told him.
But what if she’s lying? What if she only paid Cade a few hundred bucks and bought herself some time with her body? Jason smelled the bottle but didn’t drink.
What if she gave the fifteen grand to Waylon Pike?
The phone rang. He glanced at the screen on his Bluetooth radio and saw that it was Harry. He set the pint down in the cup holder and pushed the knob to answer the call.
“Yeah,” he said, hearing the anxiety in his voice.
“J. R., it’s me.”
“You find Cowan’s dad?”
“Yeah, boss. He’s working a strip mall job on Highway 30A near Water Sound.”
“And?”
“No insurance policy. He sends a few hundred dollars to Trey from time to time, but that’s it.”
“What was he like?”
“A drunk. Had a case of beer in a cooler in the back of his truck and drank three cans of Coors Light while we talked.”
“Did he say anything about the mother?”
“Just that Trey’s accident was the end for them. They’d put everything into his career. Every dime they had for football camps and travel ball and lessons. And they missed the big payoff. And I quote, ‘All because Braxton Waters was too busy screwing his CRNA to pay attention to my son at the hospital.’”
“He said that.”
“His exact words.”
“Well, the Cowans all have motive,” Jason said, his voice weak.
“But none of them have a pot to piss in. No way they could have cobbled together fifteen grand in cash.”
“Yeah, I get it. Thanks for tracking him down.”
“You all right, J. R.? You sound . . . off,” Harry said.
Jason glanced at the pint of whiskey and the six-pack. “No, I’m fine.”
“How’d the reprimand go?”
“It sucked,” he said. “And I had another run-in with Tyson Cade.”
“In Montgomery? How? Didn’t you have security?”
“No.”
“What?”
“I didn’t think there was any way he’d follow me to Montgomery, so I asked the guards to stay at home with Nola and in Birmingham with Niecy.” Jason again glanced at the whiskey. “Cade must have tailed me down here, or maybe he had someone verify where I’d be. The guy does his research.”
“What did he want?”
“Money. Fifty grand. He says Jana didn’t pay him the 15K on the night of the murder. He’s noticed all I’ve spent on security and wants me to make him whole.”