Page 31 of Ground Truth

Sensing Drake’s story might bog down way too long, Flint asked, “Is the whole sordid backstory relevant to whatever Hanna’s problem is now?”

Drake had polished off another sandwich, which made Flint turn a bit green. “I don’t think so. I mean, there’s no reason to believe that Hanna had anything to do with her sister’s death.”

“Hang on.” Flint held up his hand. His headache hadn’t subsided, and he was having trouble following. “Sorry. Hanna’s sister died, too? Another drunk driver?”

“No. Boating accident, they say,” Drake replied, shaking his head. “She and her husband were sailing off the coast of Florida when a squall came up and the boat capsized, I guess. The bodies were never found.”

“Okay. Well, it happens,” Flint said. “We’ve dealt with our share of people lost at sea over the years. I gather Hanna inherits?”

“Maybe.” Drake shrugged. “We never got that far in the conversation. Hanna doesn’t know if her sister had kids or a will or anything like that. She’s trying to find all of that out now.”

Flint frowned and tried one of the cold fries. He forced it down with the soda and didn’t pick up another. “You’re no kind of estate expert.”

“Right. I’m not even an investigator, obviously,” Drake said. “You are, though. The best investigator I know. The situation is confounding. And you’re between clients at the moment. Thought we could help Hanna.”

“Help Hanna with what, exactly?” Flint’s foggy brain struggled to pay attention.

He swallowed a hard gulp of soda to keep the bile in his belly where it belonged. He was losing the fight.

He stood abruptly, turned, and vomited into the sink. Not much in his stomach, so the spasm didn’t last long. He rinsed his mouth with water and slumped back into his chair.

Drake had cocked his head, watching the situation unfold. “What is it? Flu? Worse?”

“Concussion. Not too serious. I’m improving daily. Just have to wait it out, the doc said,” Flint replied. “But for the love of God, don’t tell Scarlett. Please. She’ll have me whisked to the ICU at Houston Methodist by helo and tied to the bed.”

“I’ll keep your secret from Scarlett only if you agree to help Hanna.” Drake grinned and palmed his phone off the tabletop. “Otherwise, I’m calling the dragon lady right now.”

Flint glared. “Don’t touch that phone.”

Drake hit the number on his screen assigned to Scarlett. Her photo came up on the screen as the phone began to dial. Drake put the sound on speaker.

In Flint’s head, the ringtones came through too loud and fuzzy and combined with the ringing in his ears. He reached over and missed three times before he punched the disconnect button.

Drake raised his eyebrows and poised his finger above the redial button.

“Not sure I’ll be much help to you for the next few days,” Flint said.

“Which means you can’t take on any other clients right now, anyway. I like our chances even with a brain-damaged Flint.” Drake took a big chomp of his third sandwich. “Even at twenty-five percent capacity, you’re better than all the rest of us.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Flint scowled as he teased. “But for your own well-being, don’t let Scarlett hear you say that.”

Drake laughed. “Hell, she’ll be glad to have you out of her way for a while.”

“Okay. I’m in for whatever this is, I guess. Under protest.” Flint sighed and ran his palm over his face. Wearily, he said, “Gaspar was helping you out, right? He’s the best Scarlett’s got on her payroll at what he does. Didn’t he find out anything we can use to help Hanna with whatever this is?”

“Yeah. Actually, he did.” Drake glanced at the clock. He swallowed and sipped before he said, “Hanna will be here in a minute. Then we’re all set up to talk to Gaspar in the den. We can keep the lights dimmed for your eyes. Come on.”

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Chapter 17

In the den, Flint fell hard into his recliner, put his feet up and his head back, and closed his eyes. Drake moved around finishing his setup for the videoconference with Gaspar.

When the doorbell rang, he said, “That’s Hanna now. She’s staying at a local hotel. I told her to take a taxi.”

Flint could hear the hum of quiet conversation moving closer as Drake entered the dimly lit room. He must have been giving Hanna the unvarnished truth about Flint’s physical condition because she entered quietly and didn’t try to approach him.

“Hanna, this is Michael Flint,” Drake said with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

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