Page 86 of A Vintage of Regret
“Yeah.” Sandy nodded. “I do.”
“Well, that’s a twist I didn’t see coming.” Harlan picked up his pencil and scribbled a few things on his pad.
“That’s insane,” Riley whispered.
“Actually, it’s not a bad idea.” Harlan glanced up. “However, my client is going to need a few things in writing from both your office and the feds. Standard stuff. He’s not going to do it without legal protection.”
Grant rubbed his jaw. “I’ll do it, but I have a condition of my own.”
Sandy lifted a brow. “That’s not how this works.”
“I can show you case studies where witnesses wearing wires?—”
“Jesus, Harlan,” Sandy muttered. “What is it that you want?” Sandy turned her attention to Grant.
“My sisters come with me,” Grant said.
“She might feel ganged up on.” Sandy twisted her lower back, stretching. “We can’t have her feeling ambushed. I don’t believe we’ll have more than one shot at this.”
Riley’s stomach flipped. “Besides, Mom won’t talk when I'm present.”
“Same for me,” Erin said. “Maybe if I hadn’t left Chad, but that’s not the case.”
“Can they listen in?” Grant asked. “This may seem like an odd request. But I need to know they’re on the other end. I can’t have any more secrets with my sisters. They need to hear every word. Not just from my mother but also from me.”
Sandy’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s not protocol and not necessarily my call.”
“I hate to break it to you,” Harlan said. “Nothing about this is standard. It’s not like he’s asking you for the moon. Just for his sisters to be in the van. I believe you and the feds can make that work.”
“It’s also the only way I’ll agree to it,” Grant said. “Knowing my sisters are with me will give me the strength I need to make my mother face the truth.”
Silence stretched, thick as molasses.
Finally, Sandy exhaled. “I’ll talk to the Feds. But don’t go near her until I say so.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Grant said.
“And keep the Boones away from Monica,” Sandy said.
“As long as we stay around here, that’s an easy one.” Riley couldn’t imagine anyone in Bryson’s family wanting to spend time with Monica willingly.
Sandy’s gaze swept them all. “Keep this quiet. No tipping off Monica or Elizabeth. You do, and this whole thing blows up.” Sandy glanced at her watch. “Harlan, I assume you want to speak with your client. When you’re done, please make your way to the station so we can hammer this out.”
When she left, the silence didn’t break right away.
Erin was the first to speak. “Grant? Are you sure about this? Mom can be… well, you know.”
Grant’s voice softened. “I’m not sure about anything. But I don’t see another way.”
“I agree,” Harlan said. “And while this is shitty because this is your mom, it’s good news for Grant. I’ve known Sandy a long time. I watched her work with the feds on the arrest of Robert Wilkerson, and she dated him in high school. She doesn’t do anything on a whim.” He stood, tucking his pad into his briefcase. “Sandy showed her hand here today. I need to draft some legal documents, talk to the feds, and Sandy again. I need you protected because you’ll end up saying some uncomfortable things to your mom. But we’ll chat about that when I’ve had a chance to hammer out all these details.” He moved toward the back door. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but we’re nearing the end of this. Stay strong and stick together.” He slipped out of the house and headed for his vehicle
Riley looked at her brother—the exhaustion etched into his features eased into something that looked similar to hope.
“This is going to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do,” Grant said softly. “But, at least, I’ll have my sisters. Two people I love dearly.”
Eighteen
Bryson stood at the edge of the backyard, his mind lingering on the day he’d found Sean. This morning wasn’t much different. It came dressed in a haze of early light, draping the vineyard in soft layers. Dew clung to the grass along the gravel path, soaking the toes of Bryson’s boots as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He’d been out here for twenty minutes, watching the fog retreat down the valley, letting the quiet steady him before the day started throwing punches.
