Page 174 of The Billion Heirs Boxed Set
The station's coffee is sludge, but caffeine is caffeine.
“Now that everyone’s here,” Mr. Shankle says, “let’s talk about clearing my clients’ names.”
“I’ve already cleared Austin and Miles,” Peterson replies.
“I understand that. Mr. Chance Bridger is equally innocent in all of this. I want to get his name cleared, and then we will cooperate to the fullest extent of the law with the investigation on the Bridger property.”
“Excuse me, Your Honor, but—”
“Your Honor is reserved for judges. I’m an attorney, Mr. Peterson.”
I resist an eye roll. Peterson knows this. He’s just being a jackass.
“Very well, Mr. Shankle,” Peterson continues, “you will cooperate to the fullest extent of the law no matter what, whether I clear Mr. Chance Bridger or not. And do you want to know why?”
“I suppose you’re going to enlighten me.” The lawyer adjusts his bolo tie, clearly withholding laughter.
“You will cooperate because it is the law. We have every reason to believe a crime was committed on your client’s property since the body was found there. We’ll be searching more than just around the creek.”
“Since I’m a lawyer and I’m here representing my client, I assume you have the necessary warrants to execute your investigation?”
Peterson shoves some papers across the table. “Authorized by a county judge first thing this morning.”
Before Shankle looks at the documents, his phone buzzes on the table beside him and he glances down. “Excuse me, but this is my associate in Billings. He’s looking into some things for me, and I have to take it.”
“Absolutely,” Chance tells him.
Mr. Shankle rises, exits the conference room, and closes the door behind him.
“Mark,” I say, settling into a chair beside Miles, “what’s it going to take for you to clear Chance?”
“A little investigation.”
“Everyone in this room, including you, Peterson,” Miles says, “knows that Chance didn’t have anything to do with Joey Hopkins’s death.”
“I know nothing of the sort,” he counters.
“You want to know what I think?” Miles asks.
“Not particularly,” Peterson says dryly.
“I thought you wanted us to talk, to give you information? If that’s the case, shut the fuck up and just listen. I think you're pissed off that you can’t get me for this, so you’re going after my brother.”
“You? You think I’m after you? I already cleared you. You accusing me of being a dirty cop, Bridger?”
Miles shrugs. “I’m just stating an opinion, Peterson. You’ve had it out for me since you found me at Sadie’s place.”
“You’d be well advised not to say another word, Bridger.” Peterson adjusts his necktie.
I give Miles a soft kick under the table.
Chance is a little less subtle.
“Shut the fuck up, Miles,” Chance snaps. “Shankle’s out of the room. If he were in here, he’d tell you to button it.”
Miles opens his mouth, so I give him another kick, this one harder.
Peterson is essentially harmless, but he will bend the law when he has to, and if he wants to make Miles Bridger’s life miserable? Or Chance Bridger’s, as a way to get to Miles? He’ll do it. He won’t manufacture evidence, but he’ll do everything up to that point, and he’ll make them jump through so many damned hoops before he clears Chance that they won’t be able to see straight.
