She started the tape again.
“It didn’t go well. This Thoreau is a stubborn little—”
He used the word I expected Gordon to use. I’d heard him use it before, heard the naked contempt with which it came out of his mouth. I won’t say it out loud for you, Shelby, but you need to understand that this is how these men saw women. All women.
“I offered her two thousand bucks to quit. She turned it down.”
“Would more money change her mind?”
“I don’t care. I’m not crawling back to her with another cent. I told her to take it or leave it.”
“Do we have other ways of influencing her?”
“Maybe. She has a kid. No idea who the father is. I talked to the mine managers about whether we should work up a court action to get the boy taken away. Get someone from child services to pay her a visit. She’s a slut and a drunk, so with the right judge, we could probably get her declared an unfit parent. But the mine is concerned that the process would take too long, and in the end, we might lose. Plus, it could backfire and win her sympathy if our involvement comes out.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I think we need to look at a backup plan.”
There was a long pause where the managing partner said nothing at all. It made me think that the phrase backup plan had a particular meaning within the firm, and everybody knew what it was. Finally, the other lawyer spoke again.
“Is that absolutely necessary?”
“Well, if it were just a question of getting rid of this Thoreau bitch, I might say no. But it won’t end with her. If we don’t shut this down, the problem’s only going to get worse. Sooner or later, this will wind up in litigation, and the client could be looking at substantial liability.”
“Can it be done without risk of blowback to the firm or the mine?”
“I’m confident it can.”
“How do you propose to do it?”
“I’ve identified local assets. I’m meeting with them tomorrow.”
“Isn’t that a risk?”
“If necessary, I can deal with them. They won’t be missed.”
“All right. I’ll expect a report soon.”
“Leave it in my hands,” Gordon told the managing partner. “I’ll take care of everything.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“A backup plan,” Darrell murmured. He took a bite of his hamburger and stared out the motel room window. “Did Penny know what that phrase means inside the firm? Has she heard anyone use it before?”
I joined Darrell at the window. Across the parking lot, I noticed that Penny’s car was gone. She was already on the road away from Black Wolf County on her way back to civilization.
“No, but she says the firm has represented clients in labor unrest and disputes for decades. The rumor is, they have a long history of using violent tactics for getting their way.”
“Except rumor won’t get us anywhere,” Darrell said. “No judge will let us use a stolen tape from a fired employee to get a warrant. The firm will hide behind privilege. Plus, whatever implications we read into that call, you know they’ll give us an innocent explanation for what they mean by backup plan.”
“Yeah. You’re right.”
“It also doesn’t help that Gordon Brink is dead and can’t answer any questions about it,” Darrell added.
I picked up my own hamburger and put it down. I ate part of a french fry but threw it back in the box. I had no appetite. The nausea that had begun earlier was getting worse. When I looked in the mirror, I saw that my skin had turned a ghostly shade of pale. Darrell didn’t seem to notice.
Instead, he went to the tape recorder and played the tape of the phone call again. He’d already listened to it six times, and the voices had been burned into my brain.
“ ‘Local assets,’ ” Darrell murmured. “He must be talking about Kip and Racer. If you were looking for muscle in this area for a job like that, they’d be the ones to call.”
I nodded. He was right.
“But that still leaves us with unanswered questions,” Darrell went on. “How did Brink know about Kip and Racer? And how did he even find them? They were hiding out because of the liquor store heist in Mittel County.”
“Norm knew they were in his trailer,” I pointed out.
“True, but I can’t see Norm helping Gordon Brink. Plus, Norm was already skirting obstruction of justice by hiding them at all. I don’t see him broadcasting the fact that he had two felons in his Airstream. And of course, none of this gets us any closer to the real question.”
I knew the question he meant. “What really happened to them?”
“That’s right. Brink tells the managing partner that he’s hoping to meet with local assets, which we assume to be Kip and Racer. Within a couple of days after that, Kip and Racer are dead, and Brink is checking out of the resort early and running back to Milwaukee. He doesn’t set foot in town for another six years, and when he does, he gets carved up like the other two. Then a few months later, so does Ajax. Four murders, presumably all connected. Presumably with one killer.”
“So how do you want to proceed?” I asked.
“Brink didn’t find Kip and Racer on his own. He had help. If not Norm, then who? I can only think of one person, can’t you?”
I frowned, but then one of the pieces in the puzzle I was wrestling with fell into place. “Ajax.”
“Right. Deputies were looking for Kip and Racer back then, and Ajax was part of the hunt. What if Ajax found them?”
“But how would Ajax get hooked up with Brink?” I asked. Then I answered my own question. “Ruby.”
Darrell nodded. “And remember, when Brink was killed, Ajax tried to steer us toward Norm and away from any connections that involved the mine or the lawsuit. He didn’t want anything pointing at him.”
“Except we’re just guessing. We can’t prove any of it.”
“I’m not so sure,” Darrell said. He went to the phone in the motel room and accessed an outside line.
“Who are you calling?” I asked.
“The sheriff of Mittel County.”
Those words sucked the air out of my chest. I hoped that Darrell didn’t notice. My face flushed. I sweated. I felt a roaring in my ears. Tom Ginn. The young, handsome sheriff of Mittel County. The man whose face I could easily picture, as if it had been only yesterday that I’d met him, not almost nine months earlier. The man whose arms I could feel around me, his body wrapped up in mine. The man who had saved me in the space of the few hours we’d spent together.
“Why call him?” I gasped, choking on my words, hating myself for being so obvious, even though Darrell had no idea what was happening to me.
“He can look up the file on the liquor store robbery seven years ago.”
“Yes. Sure. Of course.”
I wanted to rip the phone out of his hands. And at the same time, I wanted to make that call myself and talk to Tom and thank him for being there and tell him all my secrets. But too much time had gone by. I was part of his past.
“Are you all right?” Darrell asked, because I couldn’t hide the emotions flooding across my face.
“Fine.”
“Do you need a doctor? Is it time?”