Page 17 of Waiting in Wyoming
They had contacts in the state lab who could make certain bits of evidence conveniently get lost when needed. Dale had seen it before. Had even used it before.
Morris Preston and his minions had a damned corner on the market here in the southwestern part of the state. No denying that. Dale had watched it grow like a wart. Over years. But it was there now.
Clive Gunderson, the screwup former sheriff of Masterson County, had made it so simple to do. Dale hadn’t been the one responsible, but he had watched it happen—and when the price was right, he had helped. He had been raised to know that one hand helped the other.
He had helped his wife’s cousin when he had been asked—and Morris had repaid those favors. Tenfold. Dale had been extremely careful to keep all traces hidden. He wasn’t too worried, but there was always the chance a mistake had been made. On someone else’s end.
Morris wasn’t infallible—his current predicament illustrated that very well.
“Well, you should care more. Rumors are coming out that Morris documented everything. How he planned to kill that sheriff’s deputy who married Gil Tyler, how he killed all those women he supposedly offed, where every single nickel and dime he hadcamefrom. How he planned to frame Barratt for shit coming out of Texas since he just so conveniently found his way up here. The names of everyone who helped him with anything illegal, ever. That means you, too.”
Dale froze, turned. And straightened until he loomed over the smaller man. “You mean…that information is just sitting out there somewhere?”
“You think I want to go sit in the cell next to Morry? Not fucking likely, Dale. We need to make this go away somehow. If Barratt stumbles on something out there and turns it over to the cops, everything we’ve got won’t matter one damned bit. You need to speed up your plans for him.”
Barratt was going to be a bigger problem than he’d anticipated. As soon as Kelby was gone, Dale made a phone call. He had contacts in Finley Creek. It was time to clean up the problem.
12
Brandt’s familywas driving him insane—and getting in his way. Here he was at the one place he wanted to be, and the woman he loved was actuallylookingat him now—giving him attention—and he had to deal with his siblings’ drama.
Starting with his sister.
Something was going on with Powell. Brandt was almost certain of it.
That was confirmed when they were sitting down in the lobby of the inn and a man he recognized from Finley Creek walked through the inn’s front doors. Definitely a man he recognized—and one who was going to be a problem for his sister.
Detective Gunnar Erickson had been assigned to guard Powell recently after she had nearly been abducted. The threats to his sister were now identified, Brandt had been told—not that he fully believed it—but she was still being followed around by a personal bodyguard. If Brandt had his way, she’d have two guards.
But Powell was proving very stubborn in that regard.
His twin drove him crazy sometimes. She was the stubbornest woman on the planet.
Erickson was in Masterson to meet with the local police about the drugs that had been discovered in Wyoming. Drugs Brandt had been told confidentially were being manufactured in Finley Creek. People he knew were being hurt because of those drugs. Far too many of them. Including his sister and her friends.
The men responsible for those drugs had targeted Powell.
No one had fully explained why yet.
Brandt had paid investigators of his own to do some looking. He wouldn’t call them off until they had real answers.
Some of those damned drugs were being found in Masterson County. In barns on abandoned properties. It was why he’d been stupid enough to be out in his own damned barn late at night in the first place. He wasn’t going to be so stupid again.
He’d left his handgun in the truck.
He wasn’t going to go without it again.
Powell practically squeaked and tried to escape the instant Erickson recognized her. She was all big-eyed and practically vibrating.
“I am so in trouble now. I am not ready to do thisnow,” Brandt could swear his sister muttered under her breath. Then Powell was up and going right to meet the man in the center of the lobby.
If she was in trouble, why was she going to the man and looking at him likethat?
Brandt wasn’t an idiot.
“Him again,” Alex practically grumbled. His brother was in a foul mood and had been since a call from his neighbor. Apparently, someone had vandalized his brother’s trashcans and spread trash all over his brother’s new yard. The neighbor and her nephew had cleaned up the mess, but the police wanted to speak to Alex about the possibility that it was related to a case. Or if Alex, never the mostfriendlyguy, had just pissed someoneoff again. It happened. His brother had trouble peopling, Powell liked to say. Brandt fully agreed. “What’s he doing up here?”
Well, how the hell should Brandt or Mac know? “Probably TSP business.”