Pine Lake. Amanda Stevens

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      “Something’s going on in our little town. Something bad. Used to be just a few random incidents, but now there’s organization. Muscle. And I think Tommy’s involved. In it up to his neck, is my guess.”

      “In what?”

      “That’s what I need you to find out.”

      “If you’re looking to hire my firm, you’ll have to go through the proper channels. I don’t solicit work. I go where I’m told.”

      “I was hoping we could do this off the books. I’ll pay you myself. Whatever you want.”

      “Not interested.”

      “Even if it could lead you to Anna’s murderer?”

      Nathan’s words were like scissor points gouging a tender wound. “Her killer was sent to prison fifteen years ago.”

      “What if they pinned it on the wrong man? Have you ever considered that?”

      More times than Jack cared to remember. He’d even made a trip to the Texas State Penitentiary a few years back to interview Wayne Foukes for himself. He’d come away more convinced than ever that Foukes belonged behind bars. He was less certain the man had been sent up for the right reason.

      “What if I told you Tommy lied about where he was that night?” Nathan said softly. “Would you come then?”

      Jack stared out across the street. He could feel a pulse start to pound in his temple. “What you’re really saying is that you lied about that night.”

      “I had to. He threatened to hurt someone I cared about if I didn’t.”

      “What are you talking about?”

      “Do you remember my cousin Olive? She and my aunt came to live with us after my uncle died.”

      Jack skimmed his memory, summoning up a hazy image of a slight redhead with glasses. “Vaguely.”

      “You probably didn’t even notice her, but she used to follow me around all the time. I think she just needed someone to pay attention to her. Tommy didn’t come right out and say it, but he let me know if I didn’t swear to the police he was at my house all night, something bad might happen to Olive.”

      “I take it he wasn’t at your house.”

      “He slept over just like we said, but I woke up during the night and found him gone.”

      “And you never once thought about going to the police? Or to your father? He was a big shot in the county. He could have protected you from Tommy Driscoll or anyone else who threatened you.”

      “I wasn’t worried about myself. My only concern was Olive.” Nathan’s voice dropped. “Poor kid was already a mess. She took her dad’s death hard and I wanted to protect her. She was so fragile that even an empty threat could have pushed her over the edge. But I didn’t think Tommy’s threat was empty. He had a cruel streak, Jack. You never saw it because he kept it hidden from you. But not from me. I was often the brunt of it.”

      “You never said anything.”

      “I guess growing up with my old man, I got used to dealing with bullies.”

      Don’t, Jack thought bitterly. Don’t let him get to you. None of this matters anymore.

      So what if Nathan had lied about Tommy’s whereabouts? Jack had never been charged. He’d left town a free man and he’d put all that behind him. He was happy here in Houston. Or at least, content. He had friends, a good job. Why go digging up the past now?

      Because a man had been sent to prison for a crime he may not have committed. Wayne Foukes was an arsonist, a drug dealer and a serial rapist who’d left a string of ruined lives in his wake. He deserved to be incarcerated, but so did Anna’s killer.

      “Will you come?” Nathan pressed.

      “What is it you expect me to do?”

      “What you do in every other place with a corrupt police department. Expose the dirt so we can clean it up.”

      “You don’t think people will question my presence in a town where I haven’t set foot in over fifteen years?”

      “You have the perfect excuse for coming back. You need to settle your uncle’s estate. You can even stay in the cabin while you decide what you want to do with it. I’ll have someone go in and give it a good cleaning, stock the refrigerator. You might even enjoy a few days on the lake. All I’m asking is that you keep your eyes and ears open while you’re here. Ask a few discreet questions. You’ll know how best to handle the situation once you get here.”

      “I’ll think about it,” Jack said.

      “For how long?”

      Irritation flared. “For as long as I need to. I have a job. I can’t pick up and leave whenever I want.”

      “Don’t take too long,” Nathan warned. “Whatever you decide, I would appreciate you keeping this call between us. My life could depend on it.”

      He knew how to end the conversation on a dramatic note. Jack would give him that.

      Slipping the phone in his pocket, he leaned a shoulder against the building as he mulled over his options. He had vacation time coming. He was between assignments and he’d caught up on all his paperwork. There would never be a better time to take a few days off. Still, he wasn’t about to rush into anything. He needed to have a drink, relax, sleep on it. Then he’d talk things over with his boss on Monday.

      He deliberately turned his thoughts to more pleasant options, like how to spend the rest of his Friday evening. He could go across the street to Lola’s and have a drink with the other Blackthorn employees who would already be congregating in the shadowy back room for happy hour. Like Jack, they were mostly former law enforcement—cops, FBI, DEA. They all got on well except for the military contingent, the ex-Special Forces teams that were often deployed overseas as private security. Mercenaries. Those guys kept to themselves.

      He decided he wasn’t in the mood for a raucous celebration so he thought about heading over to Ninfa’s on Navigation for solo margaritas and fajitas. But it was a popular eatery and on a Friday night with the Astros in town, chances were good he’d need a reservation. He chose a third option. Home.

      His apartment was several blocks away, but he didn’t mind the rain. Dodging umbrellas, he merged with the pedestrians hurrying toward bus stops and parking garages. The theater crowd would soon converge, tying up traffic for blocks. He was glad to be on foot.

      As he strode along the sidewalk, the back of his neck tingled. He could easily chalk up the sensation to imagination or the residue of an unsettling conversation, but Jack had learned a long time ago to listen to his instincts. To pay attention to the signs. He was being followed.

      He searched the mirrored facade of the building across the street and turned very casually to observe the traffic. Nothing seemed amiss, but in the chaos of rush hour, a tail could be hard to spot.

      * * *

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