Rich Waters (Jason Rich), page 31
In addition to watching old wrestling videos, one of his top activities to release stress was target practice with his Glock.
For an hour, Jason practiced. Five yards. Ten. Twenty. He shot until his shoulders began to ache.
When he got home, he lifted weights for an hour and took a dip in the lake. Then he stood in front of his mirror, asked Alexa to play “Real American,” and did the entire Hulk Hogan after-match flex routine that the Hulkster had made famous, complete with holding his hand to his ear for crowd noise even though there was, of course, no crowd. He enjoyed the way his muscles were popping and thought, for the first time, that his arms were “guns,” as the kids liked to say. If he got any stronger, he’d have to update his billboards. He looked kind of scrawny on them now.
Embrace your inner narcissism, Jason thought, shrugging and then thinking, Fuck it. Whatever works . . .
After showering, he went back to work. Returning emails. Saying yea or nay on new cases. And prepping for the next round of depositions and hearings. It was a lawyer’s life, and he dived into his work now like a lifeline. He hadn’t let Tyson Cade break him. If anything, he’d gone the other way. He could see it in Satch’s, Mickey’s, and Chuck’s eyes. In their demeanor around him.
He was one of them now. He hadn’t served in the army, but he felt like a soldier. He was in a war, and he hadn’t run. He was fighting.
He grilled a steak and gazed out at the half moon, which danced its light across the cove. He didn’t know what time it was and didn’t care. He ate when he was hungry now.
While he had quelled his urge to drink with shooting, lifting, and work, he was dealing with another struggle now.
Sleep.
Regardless of what he tried, he couldn’t seem to ever get a good night’s rest. The nightmare of him sinking at the bottom of the lake came to him every night. As did Harry’s cold, dead eyes. And Jana’s voice, always tormenting him no matter how strong he felt. Calling him weak. Motivating him from the grave as she had when she was living.
He’d tried everything. Every bed in every room in the house. On the couch upstairs and down and even in a sleeping bag on the floor.
The only time he ever really dozed off was when he slept on the old raggedy couch on the open-air patio on the bottom floor.
Now, after finishing his steak, he sat out on the couch and cracked open a novel by Greg Iles. He was reading fiction more now, too, as both a defuser and an attempt to help him sleep. He couldn’t say it helped much in the way of rest, but he enjoyed the adventures of Penn Cage. Somehow, they made him feel a little better about his crazy life.
Jason finally set the book down, fixed the alarm on his phone, and lay back on the old couch that had been in his family since before he was born. He glanced out at the water and thought of Tyson Cade.
I’m still here, you sonofabitch.
85
Matty Dean sat on the rocks below the Mill Creek overpass. Tonight, he was the only fisherman. His phone buzzed, and he picked up. “Yeah?”
“What’s the status?” Tyson asked.
“Same old. Nothing new. Our folks said he went to Pulaski for a meeting at Bo Haynes’s office.”
Silence. And then a sucking sound. “Damnit.”
“What’s the end game here, T. C.?”
Silence for a few more seconds. Then Tyson cleared his throat. “Same as always. To stay on top.”
“You tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
“For now, we sit tight. I underestimated the counselor. And Detective Daniels too. But neither of them have figured it out. If . . . or when . . . they ever do . . .” A pause. “. . . it’ll be too late.”
Matty fought to keep irritation out of his tone. “What does that mean, T. C.?”
“It means what it means,” Tyson snapped.
“What about me, boss? The Giles County Sheriff’s Department has been all over my ass since the shooting. They haven’t charged me with anything because they’ve got nothing. But I can feel eyes on me. The local authorities in Guntersville have been poking around about Bull Branner too.” Matty found that he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out. “Bull was a regular down at the auto shop. Kelly Flowers and I were Bull’s main contacts, and a lot of people saw me with Bull. Not you, me, because that’s the way you’ve always wanted it. I’m being the good soldier, T. C., and I know we covered our tracks with Bull and Davenport, but all the questions are making me nervous. Bull was who discovered Kelly’s body, so the district attorney isn’t going to stop looking for him. You can bet your ass they are going to keep watching me.”
More silence and then Tyson’s firm, unwavering voice. “All we can do right now is hang tight, brother.”
The phone clicked dead, and Matty gazed at the device before putting it back into his pocket. He had never doubted the wisdom of Tyson Cade, but he was beginning to feel the pressure.
And he still didn’t quite understand his boss’s motives.
What’s the endgame, he again wondered as he cast his line out into the dark water.
86
“State of Alabama versus Jason . . . James . . . Rich.”
Judge Barber seemed to relish drawing out Jason’s name in his nasal southern twang. “Is the defendant ready?”
Jason stood and buttoned his coat. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“And I see that you haven’t hired another lawyer since Ms. Montaigne’s withdrawal?”
Jason grinned. “I’m a lawyer, Judge. And I don’t need any help defending against these frivolous charges.”
Barber scowled at him and then turned to the prosecution table. “Is the state ready . . . where is Ms. Lankford?”
Sergeant George Mitchell stood and looked to the back of the courtroom. “She stepped out a second ago. Let me go check.” As Mitchell walked toward the double doors in the rear, Jason watched him, thinking about the officer’s testimony at the preliminary hearing. Though he hadn’t outright lied—Jason had never asked whether Flowers had been investigated—Mitchell had volunteered that Flowers was a “good cop.” Jason’s gut feeling was that Mitchell was dirty, but he wondered how much so. Could Hatty Daniels’s partner have been involved in the hit on her in Pulaski? And what about Flowers? Could it be that Mitchell used his inside information to take out Flowers so that he could replace him as Tyson Cade’s inside man? As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Shay Lankford busted through the double doors.
“I’m here, Your Honor,” Shay said, her tone agitated as she strode in. Jason turned, looking past Shay and scanning the crowd. Outside of Kisha Roe and a couple of other reporters, the courtroom was barren. Apparently, his own personal travails weren’t as big a news item anymore. He was dismayed. When part of your brand was the circus you created, it was depressing when there was no audience.
“Is the state ready, Madame Prosecutor?”
Once she had made it to her table, she glanced at Jason and then back up at Barber. “Your Honor, may we approach?”
He motioned them up, pulling his spectacles down around his nose. “What’s going on, Ms. Lankford?”
“Judge, I am having difficulty with our witnesses.”
“What do you mean . . . difficulty?”
Shay bit her lip. “Mr. Martin isn’t here.”
“Didn’t you subpoena him?”
“A subpoena was issued, but Mr. Martin moved out of state before it could be served.”
“Well, where is he?”
“Mr. Martin is in college now. He’s at Georgetown in Washington, DC. I spoke with him yesterday, and he said he would be here.”
“Did you try serving an out-of-state subpoena?”
“Your Honor, that process is difficult and expensive. We didn’t think it a good use of the state’s resources. Especially when Mr. Martin said, on numerous occasions, that he would be here.”
“Well . . . why isn’t he?”
She held out her palms. “I don’t know, Your Honor. Mr. Martin hasn’t returned any of our calls. I assume an emergency has arisen.”
“I see,” Barber said, his tone seesawing between disappointment and disapproval.
“The state would respectfully request a continuance.”
“And I would respectfully oppose,” Jason said. “Your Honor, the state has had more than three months to get ready for this trial, and they literally only have one witness. If the state isn’t ready, then the charges should be and are due to be dismissed.”
Barber took off his glasses and frowned. His disappointment was now palpable. Finally, he glared at Jason. “And if one of your witnesses, Mr. Rich, had an emergency and couldn’t appear for the Trey Cowan murder trial, would you expect me to proceed with that trial?”
Jason felt light headed. He’d taken a couple of NoDoz pills this morning, and his hands shook as the caffeine combined with adrenaline and anger. You prick, Jason thought, glaring at His Honor. “There has been no showing of any emergency, Judge Barber. And if I requested such a continuance without any justifiable grounds, I’m sure you would deny it. I expect the same treatment of the prosecution.”
“I’m going to grant the state’s motion,” Barber said, his tone authoritative and flicking out his wrist at Jason as if he were a small child whose foolish pleas needed batting down. “This case is reset for trial on October 21. Court adjourned.” He banged on his gavel, and Shay turned to walk back to her table. Jason stood stock still, continuing to stare at His Honor, who gazed back at Jason like he had just put a sour pickle in his mouth.
“Is there something else, Mr. Rich?”
Jason said nothing, and Barber put his hands on his hips. “Answer me, Counselor, or I’m going to hold you in contempt.”
“No, Your Honor,” Jason said. “There’s nothing else.”
Jason trotted down the courthouse steps and forced a smile for the smattering of TV cameras. While the courtroom had been relatively quiet, the media presence outside was a tad more substantial.
“Mr. Rich, do you have any comment on Judge Barber’s ruling to continue the trial on the charges the state has brought against you?” Kisha Roe asked.
“I’ll be ready to defend myself in two weeks,” Jason said.
“And, if you succeed at trial, will you be filing any type of lawsuit against the county as Ms. Montaigne threatened months ago?”
Jason looked around at the various cameras, letting them all get a money shot of his determined mug. “Let’s just say I’ll be evaluating all options.”
87
Jason walked back to the office and went straight to the library. While he had restaffed his Birmingham office, he hadn’t added anyone new here in Guntersville. He still had two assistants answering calls, but that was it.
Truth be known, he wasn’t sure how long he was going to keep this office open.
Jason fired up his laptop. As he waited, he heard a voice from the front that he recognized.
“Is Mr. Rich in?”
“Do you have an appointment?” his assistant, Kimberly, asked.
“Send her back!” Jason yelled, standing and waiting.
When Shay Lankford entered the room, she didn’t wait to be offered a seat. She plopped down in one of the leather chairs and put her hands on the table. “Look, I know this doesn’t matter to you, but I want you to know anyway. I didn’t want to prosecute you. I told the sheriff as much, but he and Sergeant Mitchell insisted. We had Kevin Martin on board when we filed the charges, and we also had the cooperation of the Cornelius family, whose house you broke into. When you made restitution, I again recommended dismissal, but sometimes I have to go along with my officers.”
“Even when they’re wrong?” Jason snapped. He’d heard enough. “Even when they are doing unethical things?” He hesitated. “Like deleting files related to an internal investigation of a murder victim who, in actuality, was a dirty cop.”
Shay opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Her face turned crimson. “How do you know about that?”
“Because I got it directly from the horse’s mouth. Hatty Daniels was one of those officers you do so much to protect. She’d had enough of the tactics of the sheriff’s department, and she left.” He paused. “I can only imagine how sweet her deal must have been to return.”
“She didn’t tell you that too.”
“Oh, no. She didn’t reveal any of the terms of her settlement. Only that her investigative file had been deleted, and that only Sergeant George Mitchell and Sheriff Richard Griffith knew about it.” He raised his eyebrows. “Those are your wingmen, Shay. I’d watch my back and lock my office door if I were you.”
Shay said nothing. Finally, she stood. “Are you going to sue us?”
“I don’t know.”
Shay walked to the door and stopped. “I’m sorry, Jason. I guess that’s why I came over.” She looked at him. “To say I’m sorry.”
88
Shay Lankford had a visitor sitting in her office when she returned from the Rich Law Firm. Shay looked at the woman sitting in the chair across from her desk and took her time walking to her seat. A dozen thoughts went through her mind. When she got around the desk, she decided not to sit. She crossed her arms and stared at her old friend. “It’s been a minute, Hatty.”
“I wanted you to know that I was back. And I’m ready to work.”
“For the sheriff’s department . . . or Jason Rich?” Shay regretted the attack the minute it came out of her mouth, but she couldn’t help it. The sting of her conversation with Trey Cowan’s attorney was still fresh.
“I’m not going to justify that question with an answer.” Hatty’s tone was as tense as her face.
“It would have been great if you hadn’t filled in Rich about the deletion of your investigative file on Kelly Flowers.”
Hatty didn’t even flinch. “It would’ve been great if I had gotten some backup from the prosecutor I’ve worked cases with for a decade when an officer in the sheriff’s office decided to delete those documents.”
“I didn’t know anything about that, and you never returned a single one of my calls.”
“Forgive me if I was in an untrusting frame of mind after my file was destroyed and I started noticing a car following me around at all hours of the night.” She paused. “My faith went out the window when someone tried to kill me.”
“Hatty, I obviously heard about that, and I’m very sorry. Are you OK?”
“What do you think?”
Shay finally sat down, collapsing into her chair and sighing. “I can’t even imagine. Physically, have your wounds healed?”
Hatty shrugged. “Pretty much. My shoulder still hurts from time to time.”
For several seconds, the two women were silent. Shay was exhausted from the stressful hearing and her clash with Jason Rich. She hadn’t expected to have a confrontation with Hatty, and she didn’t have the energy for it. “I’m sorry, Hatty. I really am. I’ve always thought of you as a friend, and I’ve enjoyed working with you.” She hesitated. “You can’t think that someone in Griff’s office . . . or mine . . . was behind the attack on you.”
“I don’t know what to think anymore.”
Shay took in a deep breath. “I guess I can understand that.”
Hatty pushed herself up out of the chair. “Well . . . I just wanted you to know that I was back.” She turned for the door.
“Hatty, we need to brainstorm the Cowan case,” Shay said. “I presume that you’re willing to support your own investigation and, in particular, your conclusions.”
Hatty leaned her elbow against the doorframe. “I am. But I’m not going to forget what happened to me.” Shay could feel the intensity resonating from the detective’s eyes. “And I won’t rest until I have some answers.”
89
Jason walked into Ashley Sullivan’s office at 5:59 p.m. with a dozen roses. “Honey, I’m home.” He set the flowers down on a reception desk and looked around the dark office. “Ashley? Anyone here?”
“Coming.” Ashley trudged toward him wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and no shoes. Glasses covered her face, and her hair was up in a ponytail. “Sorry for the casual dress. I’m prepping for a trial myself tomorrow.”
“No worries. Understood. Brought you a present since I’ve been so derelict in seeing you.”
She rolled her eyes but grabbed the flowers anyway. “My hero.” Then she frowned. “Heard about the continuance. I saw it on Twitter. I follow the Advertiser-Gleam.”
“I’ve notified the state bar,” Jason said. “Ted sounded . . . disappointed.” Ted Raleigh was the executive director of the Alabama State Bar, and he’d been a thorn in Jason’s side since his first billboard went up. Jason had already undergone an informal meeting with the commission in late July, where he had told his side of the story with respect to his confrontation with Kevin Martin and his shooting up the Waters’s former home on Buck Island in the aftermath of Nola nearly drowning in Lake Guntersville. The commission had said then that they would withhold any ruling on whether discipline would be imposed until after the criminal charges against him were disposed. Now Jason would have to wait two more weeks. But first, he’d have to get through the Cowan trial.
Ashley managed a tired smile. She gestured toward a couch in the lobby. “Sit.”
Jason did as he was told.
“So tell me how you’re doing?”
Jason looked at her and felt an odd charge come over him. Ashley Sullivan probably thought she looked terrible, but to Jason, seeing her like this felt intimate.
“I’m fine, Ashley.” He opened his mouth to say more but thought better of it.
“Why haven’t you checked in with me?”
“Because I’ve been so busy.”
“Jason, I know about what happened to your investigator. There was a news story about the attack on Detective Daniels’s life, and his disappearance was referenced as something that might be related. And I know your partner left you. How are things with your niece?”
“Nola is out of rehab and doing well. But . . . she wants nothing to do with her dear old uncle.”
