I expected the house to be crammed. It was empty.
A plastic-wrap-covered spread on the counter featured more healthy options than our usual fare, yet made my mouth water.
The sound of laughter drew me through the house and out the back door. Mike, Tom, Diana, and Jennifer sat at an outdoor table, while my parents occupied lounge chairs, and Tamantha lolled in a hammock, with Shadow nearby. None of which had been here this morning.
“Ah, Elizabeth,” my mother called. “You’re finally here.”
“What is all this?”
“We went shopping,” Tamantha said from the hammock. “I said you need roses here. Like the grazing association has. But they said they’re too hard to return if you don’t like them.”
Mom smiled at her while waving off my question. “We’ll talk about that later. Your friends have been waiting for you. You all go in now and do your work. We won’t bother you. Oh, help yourself to the snacks there for you.”
* * * *
The guys had hit paydirt at the third place they’d checked.
Furman York had brought cattle there three times. Twice with Lukasik brands, most recently not. The owner showed them paperwork where York said he was authorized to sell the cattle.
No proof, just York’s say-so.
“Still not a sure thing Lukasik caught him,” Tom said. “Might not have room in the truck because of cows he took from the rest of us.”
“Now tell us about Odessa,” Mike said. “And Elvis records.”
We did.
“She was disappointed at not killing York,” Diana emphasized.
“Are we positive she didn’t?” Mike asked.
“Acting?” Diana asked. “Sure was convincing. It’s what Jennifer said. She was unplugged. What had been driving her all these years was over.”
“If she killed him, it could have been a delayed reaction. Like it didn’t become real until she heard someone else say it.”
“Possible. I find it hard to read her,” Diana said. “Her plan for hurting Lukasik through his son — and her daughter — is surreal. Does she change it if Lukasik is dying? Plus, Lukasik’s given no indication his son’s heartbreak would touch him at all.”
“Yeah, and what about her daughter? She doesn’t care if It breaks Asheleigh’s heart and—?” Jennifer broke off, directing her attention to her phone.
“Revenge or daughter,” I murmured.
“Unless Asheleigh doesn’t love Gable Lukasik and she is in on it,” Mike said.
Jennifer switched from phone to device.
I shook my head. “We could be in trouble if we have to prove who’s in love and who’s not.”
“Not to mention investigating Hiram’s love life,” Mike said. “But what else do we have?”
Diana’s gaze met mine as both of us rebounded from looking toward Jennifer.
“Funny you should mention that,” I started. “We do have another angle to consider if—”
But Jennifer raised one hand, capturing our attention instantly. “My guys found interesting things in Lukasik’s financials.”
“And that’s part of it,” I said.
“You didn’t go digging into his private—”
She cut off Tom’s worry. “No. You have no idea how much information is out there. Started with articles ranking regional law firms. Added firms that had to state incomes and compensation for mergers or divorces. Throw in real estate taxes, organizations that charge membership based on net worth, and a few other sources. Cross-referenced all the numbers with the rankings, so we could slot Lukasik between other lawyers and…”
She looked around to be sure we were listening.
“He’s not as rich as everybody thinks. I mean, he’s not a pauper or anything. But, still, he’s not where you’d expect him to be based on rival firms. If you want to see the numbers—”
“Give us your headlines, first,” I said.
“Well, that was one. The other is I found out how much he was paying Furman York.”
“How did you find that out?”
“He took out a private loan and had to report employee salaries, among a whole lot of other stuff. The group who gave him the loan sold it to another company, which sold it to another company, which … you get the idea. And one of those companies made all their records public accidentally. The idiots. It was sitting there on the web until we found it and reported it — after we copied Lukasik’s.”
Mike’s patience ran out. “How much for York?”
Her figure drew a whistle from Mike, stunned silence from Diana and me, and Tom’s, “More than twice what Jack Delahunt gets, three times what a good foreman around here gets.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” I dropped my head, focusing on a patch of the oriental carpet, blocking out distractions. “Let’s look at this chronologically. Lukasik represents York. York gets off.”
“Because at least two jurors are bribed,” Mike said.
“We think that — okay, we’re pretty sure, after what Hiram said. Lukasik represents York, bribes two jurors, York gets off.”
“And York goes to work for Lukasik,” Mike said. “Blackmail.”
My head jerked up. “But York doesn’t go to work for Lukasik for three years. Why the delay? If York had proof of bribery in his case, why wait to apply pressure? Why be broke for three years?”
“He got the proof later,” Jennifer said.
“How? He wasn’t here. And would anyone in Cottonwood County help him get proof?” I asked.
“Hell, no,” Mike said. “The bribed jurors certainly wouldn’t. And how could York hold it over Lukasik’s head anyway? Wasn’t he in nearly as much jeopardy? Lukasik could sure say he’d been involved. How could he prove he wasn’t? Even if he turned state’s evidence, testified against Lukasik, how many top lawyers would want to try that case? Plus, he’d benefited. Wouldn’t the authorities find some way to punish him for killing Leah?”
That image of the reversed video magically flowing together pieces of a puzzle…
Pieces. … Pieces coming together.
Something Penny said.
First one didn’t do it. Slide, sliding back to where he’d started. Hated that worse than anything. Needed another one and did it again.
Not didn’t do the murder. But didn’t do the trick.
Sliding back…
Needed another one…
Did it again…
“A different case,” I said. “Lukasik did it again. And York blackmailed him over that. Not his own case. York knew about the bribery in his case, but had no proof. He keeps watching, on the alert for Lukasik to do it again. Making sure to get proof the next time. That explains the three-year delay.”
“What proof? Where is it?” Jennifer asked.
“Letters or photos — more likely photos. As for where, someplace York was sure Lukasik couldn’t get his hands on it, because he surely tried. If we figure out which case—”
“I can check.”
“The ones around three years after the York verdict. That’s where it’s going to be. An unexpected verdict. Or one for a particularly high-profile client.”
Jennifer started immediately, the syncopation of her keystrokes fascinating and taunting.
How long—?
“I hear you people breathing. Go away. Or I’m going away.” Jennifer stood before she finished speaking. “Never mind. I’m going. I’ll be back—”
“Where? There’s not much room with all of us here and— You’re not going home, are you?”
“My car. Unless you guys start breathing even louder.”