The Liar

10

She all but danced over to the salon.

“Why, don’t you look a treat,” Viola said the minute she stepped in. “Sissy, you remember my granddaughter, Shelby.”

That started a winding conversation with the woman in Viola’s chair while Viola removed a forest of enormous rollers and began the styling.

The minute she had an opening, Shelby announced her news.

“Won’t that be something? Tansy and her Derrick, they’re making something out of that place, and there you’ll be. A headliner.”

Shelby laughed, automatically shifting the basket of used rollers out of her grandmother’s way. “It’s only Friday nights, but—”

Sissy interrupted with a story about her daughter starring in the high school musical while Viola poofed her hair to twice its volume.

“I really should get on. I guess Mama’s doing a treatment.”

“Back-to-back facials. Tracey’s got Callie for a while yet, doesn’t she?” Viola asked. “I got a break coming up.”

“I still have a couple of stops to make. I thought I’d see if Mountain Treasures is hiring part-time, or maybe The What-Not Place as Tansy says they do well with tourists and locals.”

“I got some sweet Depression glass teacups there to go with my collection,” Sissy told her.

“It’s on my list. The Artful Ridge isn’t as they’re not hiring, at least not me as long as Melody Bunker has a say in it.”

“Melody’s been jealous of you since you were children.” Knowing her client, Viola sprayed a fierce cloud of holding spray over the mountain of hair. “You be grateful she didn’t hire you, baby girl. If you worked over there, she’d make your days a misery. There, Sissy. Big enough for you?”

“Oh now, Vi, you know I like to make a statement with my hair. God blessed me with plenty of it, so I like putting it to use. It looks just wonderful. Nobody does it up like you. I’m having lunch with my girlfriends,” she told Shelby. “Doing it fancy, up at the hotel.”

“Won’t that be fun?”

It took a few minutes more to scoot Sissy along, then Viola blew out a breath, sat in the chair. “Next time, I swear, I’ll just use a bicycle pump on that hair of hers. Now, how many days a week you thinking of working?”

“I could do three or four—maybe even five with shorter hours if I can work out a deal with Tracey, and maybe ask Mama to fill in with Callie otherwise. Any more than that, I’d have to see about taking her to day care.”

“That’d eat up your paycheck.”

“I was hoping to wait for the fall for it, give her time to settle in, but I may have to do it sooner. It’ll be good for her to be around other kids.”

“True enough. Here’s what I’m going to say to you. I don’t know why you’re going over to Mountain Treasures and other places when I can use you right here. You could help with the phones, the book, the stock and supplies, and the customers. And you could help keep things organized as you’ve got an organized nature. You find something you like better, that’s fine. But for right now, I could use you three days a week. Four when we’re busy. You could bring Callie in here and there. You spent plenty of your time in the salon when you were her age.”

“I did.”

“Did it hurt you any?”

“No, I loved it. I’ve got good memories of playing here, listening to the ladies talk, getting my hair and nails done like a grown-up. I don’t want to take advantage, Granny. I don’t want you to make work for me.”

“It’s not taking advantage or making work when I can use you. I can’t say you’d be doing me a favor as I’d have to pay you. It makes good sense, unless you just don’t want to work here.”

“I wish you would,” Crystal called over from her station. “It would save the rest of us from having to answer the phone or check the book for walk-ins if Dottie’s in the back or it’s her time off.”

“I could use you three days a week ten to three, and on Saturdays from nine to four when we’re hopping.” Viola paused, seeing the hesitation on Shelby’s face. “If you don’t take the job, I’ll have to hire somebody else. That’s a fact. Crystal?”

“That is a fact. We were just talking about looking for somebody to come in part-time.” With the rat-tail comb in her hand, Crystal crossed her heart. “I swear on it.”

“We’d need to go over some things as it’s been some time since you did any filling in around here,” Viola continued, “but you’re a bright girl. I expect you’d catch on quick.”

Shelby looked over at Crystal. “You’re swearing she’s not making busywork for me?”

“She sure isn’t. Dottie’s doing a lot of running between the salon and the treatment rooms, back in the locker and relaxation areas. And Sasha hardly has time for that anymore since she got her license and she’s doing face and body treatments. We keep up with it, but it would sure be nice to have somebody doing more of the running.”

“All right.” Shelby let out a surprised laugh. “I’d love to work here.”

“Then you’re hired. You can give me the hour you’d have spent going all around seeing about a job, and go in the back there. Towels should be dry by now. You could fold them and bring them out, put them at stations.”

Shelby leaned down, pressed her cheek to Viola’s. “Thank you, Granny.”

“You’ll be busy.”

“That’s just what I want,” Shelby said, and got to work.

• • •

BY THE TIME she got home with Callie she’d worked out a doable schedule. She’d barter one day a week with Tracey, pay her for two days when Saturday was called for, and Ada Mae scooped up the other day as her “Gamma and Callie Day.”

Whenever it didn’t work, she’d take Callie with her.

Friday nights her mother and grandmother would switch off—their idea, she thought, as she pulled in the drive.

She could earn a decent enough living, her child would be well cared for. She couldn’t ask for more.

And as Callie got that glassy-eyed look on the short drive home, Shelby calculated she could get her down for a nap right off, then spend some time looking up songs from the forties, starting her playlist. With Callie half asleep on her shoulder, she started straight upstairs.

She made the turn toward Callie’s room, swaying and humming to keep her daughter in the nap zone, then let out a short scream when Griff stepped into the hallway.

Callie jumped in her arms, and rather than a short scream, blasted out a wailing screech.

“Sorry!” Griff dragged the earbuds off. “I didn’t hear you. Sorry. Your mother said— Hey, Callie, I’m sorry I scared you.”

Clutching Shelby, Callie stared at him, sobbing, then threw herself at him. He had to scramble forward, grab hold. Callie clung, crying on his shoulder.

“It’s okay. It’s all right.” He rubbed her back as he smiled at Shelby. “Your mother wants that new bathroom. I said I’d stop over first chance, make sure on the measurements. Wow, you look really good.”

“I’m just going to sit down a minute.” She did so, right on the top step. “I didn’t see your truck.”

“I walked over from Miz Bitsy’s. We’re just punching out there, so we can start here next week.”

“Next week?”

“Yeah.” He patted and jiggled as Callie’s tears dissolved into sniffles. “We’ve got a couple of little jobs, but we’ll juggle this in. I had music in my ears, so I didn’t hear you.”

“That’s okay. I probably didn’t need those last ten years of my life. I’m just going to put her down for her nap.”

“I’ve got it. Over in here, right?”

He stepped into Callie’s room. By the time Shelby pushed up, walked across, he had her on the bed, under her light blanket, and was quietly answering the singsong questions she often came up with at nap or bed time.

“Kiss,” Callie demanded.

“You got it.” He kissed her cheek, stood up, glanced at Shelby. “Is that it?”

“That’s it.” But she did a come-away motion, and eased out. “It’s only that easy because she wore herself out at Chelsea’s.”

“She smells like cherries.”

“Juice box, I imagine.”

And her mother smells like a mountain meadow—fresh and sweet and wild all at once. Maybe the word of the day should be “pheromones.”

“You really do look good.”

“Oh, I’ve been job hunting, tried to look presentable.”

“You went way over presentable into”—he caught himself on “hot”—“excellent. How’d you do on the job hunt?”

“I did great, out of the park with bases loaded.”

Jesus, baseball metaphor. He might have to marry her.

“I want a Coke,” she decided. “Do you want a Coke?”

“I wouldn’t turn one down.” Especially since it meant he got a little more time with her. “So what’s the job?”

“Now, that’s much too direct for around here,” she warned him as they started downstairs. “We have to work up to how I went about getting it.”

“Sorry, still shedding the Yankee.”

“Well, don’t shed it all, it works for you. What were you listening to?” She tapped her ears.

“Oh, it’s a pretty eclectic playlist, I guess. I think it was The Black Keys when I cut that ten years off your life. ‘Fever.’”

“At least I lost a decade to a song I like. Now to your question. First, I got my butt kicked and my ego flattened when I tried for a job at The Artful Ridge as my high school rival, at least in her mind, manages it.”

“Melody Bunker. I know her. She hit on me.”

“She did not.” Amazed, she stopped short, gaped up and gave him a chance to look close. Her eyes really were almost purple.

“Did she really?”

“She’d had a couple of drinks, and I was new in town.”

“Are you going to tell me if you hit back?”

“I thought about it,” he said as he walked to the kitchen with her. “She’s great to look at, but there’s that mean streak.”

“Not everyone—particularly those who are male—notice that.”

“I’ve got a pretty good eye for mean. She was with another girl, and there was a lot of . . . How do I put this without saying ‘meow’?”

“You can say it, it fits her. She’s always been catty. And she does have a mean streak, deep and wide. She tried her best to make me feel stupid and useless today, but she didn’t manage it. She’s following after a superior act in that area of mean, and fell short, well short.”

She caught herself, shook her head as she got out Cokes, glasses. “Doesn’t matter, and it was for the best. For more than the best.”

“What did she say to you—or is that too direct?”

“Oh, she started with snide little comments about my hair.”

“You have amazing hair. Magic mermaid hair.”

She laughed. “That’s a first. Magic mermaid hair. I’ll have to use that with Callie. In any case, Mean Melody got in a few jabs about my current circumstance, which I tolerated as I wanted the damn job. She moved on, though, trying to scrape me down to the bone, how I wasn’t qualified, didn’t have enough class, basically, or intelligence, and it was clear I didn’t have a cherry snow cone’s chance in hell of working there, so I landed a few jabs of my own, with, I will say, more subtlety and style.”

“I just bet.”

With a cool, sharp smile, Shelby poured Cokes over ice. “She was so steamed up when I was leaving she shouted out how she’d been second-runner-up Miss Tennessee, which is her spotlight of fame. To that, I ended the encounter with the southern woman’s sweetest and most pitying insult.”

“I know that.” He pointed a finger. “I know that one. You said ‘Bless your heart.’”

“Haven’t you caught on fast?” After topping off the glasses, she handed him one. “I knew that one landed, but I was so fired up, I marched over to the bar and grill. I was going to ask Tansy to hire me on as a waitress. I met Derrick—and doesn’t he look like an action movie star.”

“I hadn’t thought of it.”

“You’d be looking at him as a man does. From a woman’s eyes?” She laughed again, waved a hand in front of her face. “Lucky Tansy—and lucky Derrick because she’s a sweet, smart, sensible woman. So after I apologized for being rude to him, because I was fired up, they didn’t want me for a waitress.”

“Sounds like a rough day on the job hunt.”

“Not at all. They wanted me for Friday nights, to sing. I’m going to be their Friday night entertainment. Or, as Tansy’s calling it, I’m going to be Friday Nights.”

“No kidding? That’s great, Red, seriously great. Everybody says you can sing. Sing something.”

“No.”

“Come on, a couple of bars of anything.”

“Come into Bootlegger’s a week from Friday, and you’ll hear plenty.” After lifting her glass to him, she took a satisfied drink. “Then, because that’s not all, I went in to tell Granny before I hit a couple other possible places for day jobs, and she cornered me into working part-time there. She made me believe she could really use me, so I’m hoping she meant it.”

“In my shorter experience, Miz Vi usually means what she says.”

“It’s true enough, and Crystal swore to it they’d already talked about hiring someone part-time. So, I didn’t just get a job, I got two. I’m employed, gainfully. God, it feels so good.”

“Want to celebrate?” He watched her eyes go from sparkling happy to just a little wary. “Maybe we could get Matt and Emma Kate, go have dinner.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun, it really does, but I need to buckle down, work out a playlist. Tansy wants to change it up every week, so I’ve got some research to do. And there’s Callie, though it’s likely to be more of a weight on me leaving her for hours at a time than for her leaving me.”

“Does she like pizza?”

“Callie? Sure she does. It runs a close second to ice cream on her favorites list.”

“Then I’ll take you both out for pizza one night after work.”

“That’s awful nice of you, Griffin. She’s already got a crush going on you.”

“Mutual.”

She smiled at him, topped off his Coke. “How long have you been in the Ridge now, Griffin?”

“Going on a year.”

“And don’t you have a girl by now? Somebody who looks like you ought to have the single girls flocking.”

“Well, there was Melody for about ten minutes. And there’s Miz Vi, if only she’d reciprocate.”

“Grandpa’d fight you for her.”

“I’d fight dirty.”

“So would he, and he’s very canny. I have to say, I’m surprised Emma Kate—or surely Miz Bitsy—hasn’t tried fixing you up.”

“Tried, didn’t stick.” He shrugged, downed some Coke. “I haven’t been interested in anyone particularly. Up to now.”

“I guess it just takes . . . Oh.” It may have been a long while, but she supposed a woman didn’t forget that look in a man’s eyes, that tone in a man’s voice. Flustered, and under the flustered she couldn’t deny flattered, she took a careful drink. “Oh,” she repeated. “I’ve got to say, Griff, I’m a complicated, twisted-up mess of a thing right now.”

“I fix things, Red. It’s what I do.”

She managed a nervous laugh. “This is a complete overhaul—what you’d call a gut job, I think. And I come as a set.”

“I like the set, and I know I’m hitting on you pretty quick considering. It just seems to me it’s better to be straight-out. You knocked me flat when you walked into Bitsy’s kitchen. I planned to be slow and a lot smoother about it, but hell, Shelby, why?”

That was straight-out and forthright, she thought, and as unnerving as it was flattering. “You really don’t know me.”

“I plan to.”

This time she let out a laugh that was more stupefied. “Just like that.”

“Unless you take a strong dislike to me, and I don’t think you will. I’m likable. I want to take you out, when you’re ready and want to go. Meanwhile, since I’m attached to Matt and he’s attached to Emma Kate, we’ll be seeing each other. Plus, I really like your kid.”

“I can see that. If I thought different, if I thought she was a kind of conduit with you to me, this would be a different conversation. As it is, I don’t know just what to say to you.”

“Well, you can think about that. I’ve got to get back, and you’ve got things to do. Tell your mom I’ve got the measurements. Once she settles on the tile, the fixtures, we’ll get them ordered.”

“All right.”

“Thanks for the Coke.”

“You’re welcome.” She walked back with him, considering the nerves—those interesting, fluttery nerves she hadn’t felt in so long. A mistake, absolutely a mistake to act on them at this point in her life.

“I meant it about the pizza,” he said at the door.

“Callie would be thrilled.”

“Pick the day, let me know.” He frowned outside a moment, his gaze following the car that passed. “Do you know somebody with a gray Honda? Looks like a 2012.”

“Can’t think of anyone. Why?”

“I keep seeing it. I’ve seen it around a lot the last few days.”

“Well, people do live here.”

“Florida plates.”

“A tourist, I guess. There’s good hiking now while it’s still cool, and the wildflowers are popping out everywhere.”

“Yeah, probably. Anyway, congratulations on scoring the jobs.”

“Thank you.”

She watched him walk away—that swagger really was damn appealing. And he’d gotten her blood moving in ways she’d forgotten it could move.

Still, it was best all around if she kept all her attention on Callie, her new work, and climbing her way out of the canyon of debt.

Thinking of debt, she started upstairs. She’d change, work out a new budget, check and see if there was any progress on the house sale, or if there was any more money coming from the consignment shop. Then she could think about a playlist.

That was work, true enough, but it was also fun—smarter to get the hard over with first.

She stopped dead in the doorway of her room.

A gray Honda with Florida plates. She scrambled for her dresser, pulled out the drawer where she’d put all the business cards from Philadelphia.

And there was Ted Privet, Private Investigator. Miami, Florida.

She had seen him in the bar and grill. He’d followed her all the way back to the Ridge. Why would he do that? What did it mean?

He was watching her.

She made herself go to the window, look out, search.

She had no choice about the debt coming home with her, but she wouldn’t sit still, do nothing, when more of Richard’s mess tried to push its way into her life now.

Instead of getting to work, she picked up her phone.

“Forrest? I’m sorry to bother you at work, but I think I have some trouble. I think I could use some help with it.”

• • •

HE LISTENED TO HER, didn’t interrupt, didn’t ask any questions. That only made her more nervous, babbling it all out to her brother while he sat there cool as ice, his eyes on her face telling her nothing.

“Is that it?” he said when she ran down.

“I think so. Yes, that’s it, that’s all. I guess it’s more than enough.”

“Do you have the IDs, the ones you found in the bank box?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to need them.”

“I’ll go get them.”

“Sit. I’m not done.”

So she sat back down at the kitchen counter, knotted her hands together on it.

“Do you have the gun?”

“I . . . Yes. I made sure it wasn’t loaded, and I have it in a box, top of my closet, where Callie can’t get to it.”

“And any of the cash—from the box?”

“I kept three thousand of it in cash—it’s up in my closet, too. I used most of the rest, like I said, to pay off bills. And I put some in the bank here. I opened an account here in the Ridge.”

“I want all of it. The IDs, the gun, the cash, the envelopes, anything you have that came out of the box.”

“All right, Forrest.”

“Now, I’m going to ask you why the fuck, why the fuck, Shelby, you’re just telling me all this now?”

“The hole was so deep, and it got deep so fast. First Richard’s dead, and I’m trying to think what to do, then the lawyers are telling me there’s all this trouble. I start going through the bills. I just never did that, because he locked them up. They were his business—and don’t slap at me for it. You weren’t there, you didn’t live that life, so don’t slap at me for it. Then I found out about the house, and everything. I had to deal with it. I found the key, and I had to know. Then when I found the bank box, and what was in it . . . I don’t know who I married, who I lived with, who fathered my child.”

She took a long breath. “And I couldn’t let that matter, couldn’t let that take the rest over. What matters is now, and dealing with it until I’m clear of it. Keeping Callie clear of it. I don’t know why this detective followed me here. I don’t have anything. I don’t know anything.”

“I’ll deal with that.”

“I’ll thank you for it.”

“I might’ve slapped at you some, Shelby. But just to wake you up. You’re my sister, goddamn it. We’re your family.”

She linked her fingers together again, to hold herself in. “You think I’ve forgotten that, and you’re wrong. If you think I don’t value that, you’re stupid.”

“What should I think?” he countered.

“That I did what I thought was right. I couldn’t come back until I’d started climbing out of that hole, Forrest. I wouldn’t. Maybe you think that’s just pride, just stupid, but I couldn’t come back and put all of it on my family.”

“You couldn’t ask for a hand, a hand to reach down and help you up out of it?”

“Well, Jesus God, Forrest, aren’t I doing just that? But I had to get up far enough to reach a hand. That’s what I’m doing now.”

He pushed up, paced around the room, stopped at the window for a while, looking out in silence. “All right. Maybe I see your side of that. I don’t have to say you’re right to see it. Go ahead, get me everything you have.”

“What are you going to do? It’s still my business, Forrest.”

“I’m going to have a talk with this Florida PI, let him know I don’t take kindly to him stalking my sister. Then I’m going to do what I can to find out who the hell you were married to.”

“I think he stole that money he had stashed in the bank box, or he swindled it. Dear God, Forrest, if I have to pay all that back—”

“You won’t. You took what you took legally. Whatever he did, it’s pretty damn clear there’s nothing left to pay anybody back. One more thing. You’re going to tell all of this to the rest of the family. You’re going to get this out.”

“Gilly’s about to have a baby.”

“No excuses, Shelby. You’re going to sit down tonight, after Callie’s in bed, and tell everyone. I’ll make sure they’re all here. You want them to get word some private investigator from out of state’s asking questions about their daughter, their sister?”

Because she saw the sense of it, she pressed her fingers to her eyes. “No. You’re right. I’ll tell them. You have to take my side, Forrest, when Mama and Daddy start talking about helping me pay off this debt. I won’t have it.”

“That’s fair enough.” He came over, put his hands on her shoulders. “I am on your side, you idiot.”

She dipped her forehead to his chest. “I can’t wish the years away without wishing Callie away, but I can wish I’d been stronger standing up to him. It feels like every time I found my footing, something changed and I lost it again.”

“It sounds to me like he was good at making sure people didn’t find their footing around him. Go on, get all the things from the box. Let me get going on this.”

• • •

IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG to track down the private investigator, not when the man had opted to hide in plain sight. He’d registered under his own name at the hotel—though he’d spread the word he was a freelance travel writer.

Forrest considered confronting him there, but he thought he’d give Privet a taste of his own medicine. Once he was off duty and in his own truck, he did some cruising until he spotted the Honda parked outside The Artful Ridge.

Forrest parked the truck, got out and strolled by the shop. Sure enough, the man he’d spent an hour or so running stood talking with Melody.

He’d get an earful about Shelby from that source, no question. With his target sighted, he went back to his truck, waited.

He watched Privet come out, cross over to the bar and grill. Doubtful he’d find the same well of information in there, but if he was any good—and from the run it seemed he wasn’t bad—he’d pull out some.

Making the rounds, Forrest concluded as, fifteen minutes later, Privet came out of the bar and grill, walked down and into the salon.

Following Shelby’s path from earlier in the day, which meant Privet had trailed her through the morning.

That put a knot in Forrest’s craw.

This stop took longer, but when Forrest did another stroll by, he noted that Privet sat in a chair getting a haircut. At least he put some money in the local pot while trying to mine information.

Forrest settled back in his truck, patient, waited for Privet to come out, get back in his car.

He pulled out after him, paced him easily in the light town traffic. Privet took the fork toward Shelby and home. When the Honda drove straight by, Forrest calculated, turned off—did a three-quarter turn to face the road again.

He dug out his Kojak light, fixed it to the roof, and waited.

When Privet drove by a second time, eased to the side of the road a few yards down from the house, Forrest pulled out, hit the light so Privet would see it in his rearview.

He eased up behind the Honda, walked up to the passenger window—already rolled down.

Privet had a map out, and a frustrated expression on his face.

“I hope there’s no problem, Officer, and that you can help me. I think I made a wrong turn somewhere. I’m looking for—”

“Don’t waste my time. I believe you know who I am, and I sure as hell know who you are, Mr. Privet. I want your hands on the wheel where I can see them. Now,” Forrest said, setting his hand on the butt of his weapon, “I know you’re licensed to carry, and if I don’t see both your hands on the wheel, we’re going to have some trouble here.”

“I’m not looking for trouble.” Privet held his hands up, placed them carefully on the wheel. “I’m just doing my job.”

“I’m doing mine. You went to see my sister up North, and entered her home on false pretenses.”

“She asked me in.”

“You cornered a woman with a small child in her home, then you followed her across several state lines where you’ve spied on her, followed her.”

“I’m a private investigator, Deputy. My license is in my—”

“I said I know who you are.”

“Deputy Pomeroy, I have a client who—”

“If Richard Foxworth swindled your client, that’s nothing to do with my sister. Foxworth’s dead, so your client’s out of luck there. If you spent ten minutes with Shelby and think she had anything to do with it, you’re a damn fool.”

“Matherson. He used the name David Matherson.”

“Whatever name he used, whatever name he came into this world with, he’s dead. Personally, I hope the sharks had a good meal off him. Now, if it’s true you’re not looking for trouble, you’re going to stop following my sister, stop asking about her around town. I expect I could go into The Artful Ridge, the bar and grill and my granny’s place and they’d all tell me how when you were in there somehow the conversation came around to Shelby. That stops. I catch you at it again, I’m taking you in. Around here we call what you’re doing stalking, and we got a law against it.”

“In my business it’s called doing the job.”

Forrest leaned conversationally on the bottom of the window. “Let me ask you something, Mr. Privet. You think if I was to arrest you right here and now, and take you in, the judge around here is going to say there’s no problem with you sitting here—with those binoculars on the seat beside you?”

“I’m an amateur ornithologist.”

“Name me five birds indigenous to the Smokies.” Forrest waited two beats while Privet scowled. “See, you could say that bird, it won’t fly. I tell my boss, and we tell Judge Harris—who’s a third cousin, twice removed—that you’ve been sitting here watching my family home and my sister, been following her and her little girl around town, been asking questions about my widowed sister with her fatherless child, you think he’s going to say, ‘Why, that’s just fine. Live and let’? Or do you think you’ll be spending the night on a jailhouse cot tonight instead of your hotel bed?”

“My client isn’t the only one Matherson swindled. And there’s a matter of nearly thirty million in jewelry he stole out of Miami.”

“I believe you. I believe he was a fucking bastard, and I know he did a number on my sister I won’t forget. I’m not going to let you do the same.”

“Deputy, do you know what the finder’s fee is on twenty-eight million?”

“It’s going to be zero,” Forrest said equably, “if you’re looking for it through my sister. You stay away from her, Mr. Privet, or you’ll have plenty of the trouble you don’t want to have, because if I catch you at it, I’ll make sure of that trouble. You can tell your client we’re all sorry for his bad luck. If I were you, I’d head back to Florida and do just that. Tonight. But it’s your choice.”

Forrest straightened up again. “We clear on that?”

“We’re clear on that. I’ve got one question.”

“Ask it.”

“How could your sister live with Matherson for years and not know what he was?”

“Let me ask one back. Is your client a reasonably intelligent individual?”

“I’d say he is.”

“How did he manage to get himself swindled? You’re going to want to move along now, and you don’t want to drive back down this road again. That’s literal and metaphorical.”

Forrest walked back to his truck, waited until Privet drove away. Then he drove himself the short distance to his family home, parked so he’d be there when Shelby told the family her story.