Travis frowned, then sent the recording to Rick, Ellen, and himself before handing Rick the phone. “We’re going to trust you with this, but Sullivan had better not screw this up. And hold off giving it to him until Monday.”
“Why?” Rick asked.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Travis—if you do something illegal, I’m not going to be able to help you.”
“It’s not illegal.”
Ellen had no idea what her brother-in-law was thinking, but she didn’t ask him in front of Rick.
“Ellie,” Travis said quietly, “tell Rick about the barn and generator.”
“Jake and I have noticed several oddities, but we realized yesterday that someone intentionally sabotaged the barn by putting expanding foam into the downspouts and cutting holes into the wall to flood our loft,” Ellen said. “We caught it, but not before most of our hay was wet.” She told him everything else that had been happening over the last fifteen months, including the most recent—Lyla getting shocked by the barn generator that had clearly been intentionally damaged.
Rick frowned. “You’re not saying it was Mitchell, are you?”
“I don’t know that Mitchell would have the guts to do it himself,” Travis said, “but he would hire someone, and you know it.”
Rick considered, nodded. “But you have no evidence.”
She shook her head.
“Write everything down that you believe was intentional,” Rick finally said. “But I don’t know what I can do about it. You might want to get cameras out here. I know it’s a pain, and good cameras can be expensive, but it would protect you.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said. The idea of being forced to add layers of security on her farm made her sad. They lived in a safe, rural community and knew all of their neighbors. Cameras… Then she thought about Mitchell’s cameras. He was watching his neighbors, and that made her doubly angry.
Rick rose, rinsed out his coffee mug, and put it in the sink. “You know I care about your family a lot,” he said. “Don’t do anything that’s going to bite you in the ass. Understand?”
“Understood,” Travis said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“Are you one hundred percent sure?” Travis asked Ellen again as they pulled up to Robinson’s sprawling home.
Day laborers were already clearing the debris from the storm. By tomorrow, Verdacorp would once again look like the spread fromDallas.
“I’m sure,” Ellen said.
This was their only chance, because Rick was right: if they pushed it and tried to get an investigation into Mitchell Robinson and Verdacorp, he had enough money and friends to fight back hard. He gave money to the county supervisors and the district attorney. He was well known in not only Cooke County, but the entirety of north Texas.
Without hard evidence, they couldn’t do anything. And he would continue to sabotage Ellen, likely out of spite because she would never in a million years sell him a square foot of her property.
And for what? Because of the ancient feud between the Robinsons and the McKennas? John had been cordial to Mitchell. He’d had Clive over for a meal on occasion. They did everything they could to bury the hatchet, and Mitchell still wanted to live in the past.
Ellen would not allow him to destroy her family, or her family’s legacy.
Travis’s plan had to work.
They approached the door. Knocked. Presley answered, looking exasperated.
“You,” she said.
“Hello, Presley,” Travis said with a smile.
She looked him up and down, rolled her eyes. “Uncle Clive or Dad?”
“Mitchell, please.”
