Page 112 of Shephard

“Worked with you.” I pulled out my phone, searching for his email. I received notifications of happenings in the news worldwide, one crossing my screen as I was searching.

I read it once, then again. Then again. I shifted my attention to finding as much as I could, holding my breath as I did so.

When I lifted my head, I could tell he was the one responsible.

“You did this,” I said quietly so as to not draw any attention.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Leaning over the table, I showed him the screen I’d found depicting Jameson and his father being arrested. “Grand larceny. Extortion. Blackmail. Arson? You sent the information I had on Jameson to the Feds. Didn’t you?”

“Well, I have a buddy in the CIA and he was very helpful.”

I tossed my napkin at him just as the wine arrived. “You are bad.”

“Let’s just say he won’t be bothering you any longer.” His grin was entirely too mischievous.

“I should be angry with you.”

“But you’re not.”

“I don’t know. We’ll see later.” I was floored that he’d go to that extreme, but inside, the butterflies were ready to burst into song.

Sometimes the grumpiest people were the best ones of all.

I’d even ventured out to visit my father, trying to make amends. I’d also made arrangements for him to come stay at a nice little cabin not too far from mine. At least I could watch out for him.

The late lunch was served only moments later, the food incredible but missing something. Verve. Maybe fresh blood would help. Change was often good.

I knew that very well.

“Can you ask Chef Dubois to come to our table?” Shephard asked the waitress.

“Absolutely, sir.” The girl moved away and the two of us looked at each other.

This was still tough no matter how you played it.

It was five minutes before the even grumpier looking older man came to the table. The man had a wary look on his face as if he already knew what was coming.

“Mr. Fox. How was lunch?” His French accent was slight, but still there even after living in the States for so many years.

“Excellent, Pierre. But that’s not why we wanted to talk with you. This is Denise Parker, a park ranger who is also deputized.”

Now the Frenchman was sweating.

Pierre paled. “Nice to meet you.”

I honestly didn’t want to draw this out. This wasn’t about embarrassing him. The man had experienced a tough time over the last year and a half. I pulled up my phone, allowing him to see the entire video I’d taken. There were others along with my findings from using my ex-partner to search his bank accounts.

“What do you have to say, Pierre?” Shephard asked. At least his tone of voice wasn’t harsh.

“There is nothing I can say. I’m certain you’re here to arrest me,” he said with such sadness in his voice. He was a broken man.

“Not necessarily, Pierre,” I piped in. “Yes, I have all the evidence in the world to do so. However, I know the reason you took the money.”

He looked at me and I could see even more how broken he was.

“She’s the love of my life,” he said. “I couldn’t do anything for her. I’ve tried so hard but the money wasn’t there.”