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ELIAS
Ihit the connect button in my car when the phone rings through the speakers. “Hey, darlin’.”
“Hey, babe. Are you heading home?”
“I am. But I have a stop to make first, so I’ll be late.”
“Where’re you headed?”
“You can’t ask those questions this close to Christmas. You know that.”
“You said you were done shopping.”
“I did.”
“Were you lying then or are you lying now?”
“Neither, supersleuth. I’ll be home in a bit. Want me to grab anything on the way?”
“Depends on when you’ll be home.”
“In time for a late dinner, not after you’ve gone to bed.”
“Text me when you’re close. I’ll let you know if I’ve eaten by then.”
“Always hedging… Okay, darlin’. See you in a bit.”
I turn east onto a well-maintained road with lesser-maintained homes. They’re still valuable, but they seem to have been forgotten. The reedy grass was left high before it died, leaving it tall and brown as it blows in the breeze. Winter came, and the cactus are what’s left. The lusher plants have withered.
It’s depressing, and I’m glad for the coming sunset so I don’t have to see it all.
Over the last few months, I’ve become uneasy about Rich Lager. Brighton hasn’t said much about her visits. In fact, she’s been reticent, which is telling for her. Where she normally spills her day in detail, she mentions next to nothing except her confusion about the sickly horses. She seems lost in her thoughts after her visits, and she sleeps fitfully on the nights she’s been to see him.
Braxton even asked what I was doing about it, since her schedule with Lager has become less regular but more frequent.
His home is modest and in decent shape, though it looks like multiple projects were started and never completed. Several shades of paint have been tested near the front door, but none must’ve been settled on.
I knock on his door and am greeted by a tall, thin man, whose graying hair was once blonde. Deep lines spread from the corners of his eyes and even deeper ones bracket his mouth. There’s power in his wiry body.
“Yeah?”
“Mr. Lager?”
“Who’s asking?”
“I’m an attorney representing the Ranger family in a legal matter. May I come in?”
He pauses and pulls his chin back in. He stands back but surveils the yard behind me like he suspects something more.
He motions to the table that’s covered in unopened envelopes, old magazines, and dirty coffee cups.
I sit in one of the chairs, not allowing my back to the man. He circles the table widely and stands behind the chair opposite me with his hands firmly planted atop it.
“What can I do for you?” His eyes flick between me and the hall behind me.
“There’s a pending legal matter with Dr. Brighton Ranger.” His eyes brighten at the mention of her name. “I wanted to ask you some questions since you are a client of hers.”
He nods.
