AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Joey’s gone,” Sadie echoes. “But we still have each other.”
22
SADIE
I drivewith Miles to the station the next morning for the meeting with Peterson. Not that I even have my car. Chance and Austin take Chance’s truck, and Mr. Shankle is supposed to meet us there.
I still haven’t talked to Miles about the attorney I met yesterday. After spending the rest of the visit with Ma making some preliminary arrangements for Joey’s memorial, I didn’t have it in me to talk about anything else.
I stayed at Miles’s house last night, not wanting to be alone. Heck, I didn’t want to be in bed alone. Not when I know what it’s like to have Miles beside me. Have him hold me. He pulled me into his arms and spent hours making me forget about Joey, my father, everything. Even my name.
Miles and I are the last ones to arrive at the station, which doesn’t look good on me, being that I work there. I’m sure everyone by now has heard about my brother’s death.
We walk through the station, and the receptionist waves to me and offers condolences and then tells me that Mark is in the small conference room waiting.
We enter, and Mark, Mr. Shankle, Chance, and Austin are all seated around a small round table.
Peterson nods to the coffee maker in the corner. “You know what to do, Hopkins.”
I don’t particularly want a cup of coffee—and Peterson’s a chauvinistic dickhead—but it will keep my sweaty hands busy. I glance up at Miles. “Coffee?”
He doesn’t look happy and glares at the back of Mark’s head. “Sure. Thank you.”
I grab two Styrofoam cups—when the hell are we going to stop using non-recyclable Styrofoam?—and fill them. “Cream and sugar?” I ask Miles.
He shakes his head.
The station's coffee is sludge, but caffeine is caffeine.
“Now that everyone’s here,” Mr. Shankle says, “let’s talk about clearing my clients’ names.”
“I’ve already cleared Austin and Miles,” Peterson replies.
“I understand that. Mr. Chance Bridger is equally innocent in all of this. I want to get his name cleared, and then we will cooperate to the fullest extent of the law with the investigation on the Bridger property.”
“Excuse me, Your Honor, but—”
“Your Honor is reserved for judges. I’m an attorney, Mr. Peterson.”
I resist an eye roll. Peterson knows this. He’s just being a jackass.
“Very well, Mr. Shankle,” Peterson continues, “you will cooperate to the fullest extent of the law no matter what, whether I clear Mr. Chance Bridger or not. And do you want to know why?”
“I suppose you’re going to enlighten me.” The lawyer adjusts his bolo tie, clearly withholding laughter.
“You will cooperate because it is the law. We have every reason to believe a crime was committed on your client’s property since the body was found there. We’ll be searching more than just around the creek.”
“Since I’m a lawyer and I’m here representing my client, I assume you have the necessary warrants to execute your investigation?”
Peterson shoves some papers across the table. “Authorized by a county judge first thing this morning.”
Before Shankle looks at the documents, his phone buzzes on the table beside him and he glances down. “Excuse me, but this is my associate in Billings. He’s looking into some things for me, and I have to take it.”
“Absolutely,” Chance tells him.
Mr. Shankle rises, exits the conference room, and closes the door behind him.
“Mark,” I say, settling into a chair beside Miles, “what’s it going to take for you to clear Chance?”
