Page 79 of The Best Lawyer
“Miranda said the last episode before this one made it into the top twenty for all true crime podcasts this week. I don’t know what that translates into as far as listeners. Maybe it’s better if I don’t.”
“Let’s focus on the things we can control.”
I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Tell me what those are again? Because to me it feels like a pretty small list.”
“Let’s just hear what Maisy has to say.”
“I need to stop making decisions based on what my family wants or thinks they need. Even this. I wouldn’t be doing this if Emma hadn’t begged me.”
Eric gave me a sidelong glance. “Yes, you would have. Or I would have if you couldn’t.”
I made the final turn. According to the directions and the street view map Eric pulled up, Maisy lived two miles at the end of a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. I grumbled a response.
“It’s a good lead,” Eric continued. “One that you were absolutely right that Sharon should have followed. If Emma had been able to figure out how to find Maisy, Sharon should have too. It’s laziness. No matter how I feel about Katy or any of the rest of it, this is the kind of thing that keeps me up at night. I have a low tolerance for incompetent police work.”
“You really think it was incompetence?”
“How many times have we had this conversation in other cases? You know I always give the benefit of the doubt to the investigator. It wasn’t so long ago that I quit rather than staying involved with your work. This is a weird role reversal for me, Cass.”
I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse. But I was glad he was with me on this one. I felt like I could no longer trust my own judgment.
“That one,” he said, pointing to an old farmhouse with faded blue siding. There was a barn under construction behind it. Inthe side yard, I saw a large chicken run. Two goats roamed free, chomping on the grass. One of them gave us a side eye as I pulled up and parked halfway down the gravel drive.
Eric slid on his aviator sunglasses and came around to open my door before I could even unbuckle my seat belt. I should have worn different shoes. My low heels sank into the dirt. It must have rained here last night. I knew I’d walk out of here with half an inch of mud on my pants.
We didn’t quite make it to the porch when the storm door swung open and a man walked out. He had gray hair, cold dark eyes, and walked with a swagger. From the corner of my eye, I saw Eric’s hand go instinctively to his right side. He had a concealed carry permit and kept his gun holstered on his belt. If the man noticed, he didn’t show it.
“Mr. Altman?” I called out. “I’m Cass Leary. This is my partner, Eric Wray. My assistant said your wife would be expecting us this afternoon.”
“I know who you are,” he said, his voice gruff. “And I don’t care.”
Eric and I exchanged a look.
“Listen, man,” Eric said. “You know why we’re here. I won’t pretend otherwise. We’re not the cops. We just want to talk to your wife. Is she here?”
“I said I don’t care who you are and why you’re here. Maisy won’t be talking to you or anybody else today. You wasted your time. Now I need you to get the hell off my property.”
I looked toward the house. Was she inside?What had changed?
Eric put his hands out in a gesture of peace. “Five minutes,” he said. “That’s all we’re asking. We could have done this over the phone but your wife said she wanted to talk in person. We just made a four-hour drive. If there was a problem, now’s a pretty inconvenient time to bring it up.”
“You got a warrant?” Altman said.
Eric’s whole body tensed. “I told you. Not a cop.”
“Good,” Altman said. “So when I call one and tell them I have trespassers, what do you think they’ll do?”
I took a step forward. Altman took three steps toward me, menace etched in his scowl. “Billy!” he called out.
Three men came around from the back of the house. Each one was bigger than the other. The biggest, presumably “Billy”, had a shotgun over his shoulder.
Eric got in front of me, hand on the heel of his gun.
“This isn’t worth it,” Eric said. I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or to Altman.
“Get gone,” Altman said. “Or you’re about to have a pretty bad day.”
“You’re going to shoot us?” I said. “That’s your play? Buddy, you have no idea what I’ve been through in the last two days. Actually, you might be doing me a favor putting me out of my misery.”
