“But he’s definitely lying about one thing, brother,” Chuck said, taking a long sip of the twenty-ounce Mountain Dew he’d bought in the store.
Satch gave a wry grin. “Yep.”
“And what’s that?” Jason asked.
“He is scared of us,” Mickey said, rubbing his mustache. Then, squinching up his face, he mimicked his older brother. “Then you, son, will quite literally . . . be some shit.”
The cab of the truck rocked with the cackles of the Tonidandel brothers.
As Satch turned back onto Hustleville Road, Jason looked around the cab at each of the three bearded men, all of whom had killed before in combat and wouldn’t hesitate to kill again, and a thought enveloped him like a warm blanket.
Cade would be crazy not to be scared.
55
Tyson Cade gazed at the phone for a long time after Satch Tonidandel had ended the call. He knew he ought to be pleased. His scheme to scare Jason Rich into paying off his sister’s debt had worked. He’d been made whole. But he was anything but pleased.
When was the last time someone had hung up on him?
Never, Tyson thought. No one’s crazy enough to do that.
He’d gotten what he wanted, but perhaps hurting the girl had been too much. He’d scared the lawyer, and Rich had proven to be resourceful. He might not know how to fight with Tyson, but he’d recruited some help.
The reputation of Satch, Chuck, and Mickey Tonidandel was well known throughout Marshall County.
But that didn’t matter anymore. The colonel had disrespected Tyson. He’d have to be dealt with. Maybe not immediately, but one day, after the immediate crisis was over, Tyson would get payback.
He drank a sip of Sun Drop and felt his pulse slowing. He’d gotten his money back and, despite the disrespect shown, he knew that Rich wasn’t stupid enough to go back on his word. Things are working.
Soon, Jana Waters would be convicted of the murder of her husband.
And the meth business on Sand Mountain would continue to boom.
As for handling the colonel, Tyson Cade was a patient man.
56
On Wednesday morning, Jason had his first therapy session with Celia Little, a psychologist recommended by Chase. It went pretty well, he thought, though it wasn’t humanly possible to get everything he had on his chest actually off his chest. But it was good to at least check that box. He’d been to an AA meeting. He had a therapist on board. He was moving in the right direction despite falling off the wagon. Still, he hadn’t been back to jail to see Jana and wasn’t sure when he would. There was much work to be done, and the trial date was pressing down on him like a runaway freight train. October 22 would be here before he knew it, and it was now September 5. Two days after Labor Day. Six weeks before they started picking a jury.
Shay Lankford, to her credit, had been an open book, turning over everything the state had gathered as evidence. Obviously, their proffer agreement with Waylon Pike and his confession were the two biggest pieces of evidence, and Jason had basically memorized every word of both. He knew the state’s case probably as well as or better than they did. What he didn’t know was what Jana’s case would be. He had Harry watching Colleen Maples twenty-four seven and was hoping to set up meetings with Braxton’s and Jana’s respective divorce lawyers, Braxton’s financial advisor, some friends from the First Methodist Church, and, finally, every single neighbor on Buck Island.
He still had a long way to go, but things were better now with Niecy home. He’d added five more officers in addition to the Tonidandel brothers. Chase had also given him some shooting lessons, and he’d gotten his gun permit. If Cade tried anything before trial, then he’d get what he wanted.
War.
As the Porsche hurtled down Highway 278 toward Cullman, Jason felt like he’d circled the wagons as well as he could. Thirty minutes later, when he sat down at the All Steak restaurant and put the first mouthwatering orange roll in his mouth, Ashley Sullivan smiled at him. “You look better, Jason.” She paused. “Are you?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Ask me in about six weeks.”
“What happens then?”
He drank some tea and let out a deep breath. “My sister’s trial.”
PART SIX
57
On the Friday before the trial of Jana Waters, Judge Conrad called a hearing to go over pretrial motions. His Honor, who had driven in that morning from Tuscaloosa, had banned any press from being in the courtroom. Jason sat alone at the defense table. As this was a hearing only, there was no need for his sister to be present, though he planned to see her immediately afterward. The parties had agreed on most of the pretrial matters, but there was one rather significant motion left on the table.