Дэвид Балдаччи - The Guilty

“No, I don’t,” said the man.

He rubbed at his nose.

Lying caused a physiological reaction that cut the flow of blood to the capillaries located at the end of the nose. It caused a tingling feeling that usually made the liar rub at the spot.

Robie knew this.

Longstreet obviously did not.

“I heard they just up and left one night. And no one has seen them since.”

“Indeed?” said Longstreet.

“Is that what you understand happened?”

“I really couldn’t say.”

“Did you hear from any of them before they left?”

“If I did, and I’m not sayin’ that I did, that would be privileged and I would be barred from revealin’ it.”

“I thought attorney-client privilege protected communications , not the fact that you simply saw or talked to someone.”

He smiled patronizingly. “Well, I could argue the law with you, but since presumably you are yourself not a member of the bar, I will refrain from doin’ so, as the debate would be unfair to you . Now, is there anything else?”

Robie rose. “No, I think you’ve told me all I needed to know. Thanks.”

The lawyer’s blue eyes sparked at this comment and then faded.

As Robie walked out of the building he wondered if Longstreet had picked up his phone yet to call someone.

There seemed to be a lot going on in this small, sleepy southern town.

His phone buzzed.

It was Reel.

“Well, Little Bill was as good as advertised,” she said.

“What’s in the files?”

“Something you’re not going to believe.”

“Tell me.”

“No, you really need to see it, Robie.”

Robie sat next to Reel in the car and stared at the laptop.

“I’m not getting this,” he said.

“You’re not the only one. I thought we were looking at drug or arms dealers or maybe human trafficking. But not this.”

“This” was a series of photos showing a man in his forties with very young children in grossly perverse sexual situations.

“Who is this prick?” asked Robie.

“Don’t know. But I’d love to put a round in the sucker’s head.”

“All the kids are either black or Latino.”

Reel nodded. “I wonder why.”

“But why would these photos be on Sherm Clancy’s computer? Blackmail?”

Reel nodded. “Well, the guy’s not Clancy, right?”

“No, not even close.”

“Then blackmail it could well be. Probably what these guys were looking for when they came after Pete. But you beat them to it.”

“But they may not know that. They might think they got the laptop and all the files.”

“Then why come after you using the girl as bait?”

“Because I jacked them and they wanted to put a bullet in my head as payback,” said Robie. But he knew that probably wasn’t right. They risked a lot coming after him, and taking Sara Chisum to do so. There had to be a more compelling reason than simple payback. These guys weren’t street punks like Pete. He had a sudden thought.

“Is there a way to tell if a file has been copied from a computer, like I did with these?”

“I asked Little Bill that very question and he says there is. A few keystrokes and you’ll know if files were downloaded to another storage device.”

“So that’s the answer. They know I made copies.”

“Well, they know someone made copies. They couldn’t know for sure it was you. But they needed to cover that end. They might think Pete has other copies, too.”

“Which is why he ran for it,” added Robie.

“Which is why he ran for it,” agreed Reel.

“So Sherm Clancy was blackmailing this person presumably for money.”

“Do you think the guy in the photo is connected to the Rebel Yell casino people?”

“I wouldn’t bet against it.”

“When did Clancy hook up with the casino?”

“I don’t know exactly. I was told he made money selling the mineral rights to his farmland. Then he used that stake to buy into the Rebel Yell.”

“Who told you that?”

“More than one person, actually. So it seems to be an accepted fact.”

Robie leaned back in his seat, his brow furrowed.

“I know that look,” said Reel. “What’s going through that head of yours?”

“Mineral rights,” said Robie.

“What?”

“We need to go check something out.”

“What is this place, Robie?”

They had driven a long way through dusty back roads to arrive at a place that, even for Cantrell, was in the middle of nowhere. They were now standing in the middle of that nowhere.

“This is, or rather was, Sherman Clancy’s farm.”

“Looks like the wilderness has reclaimed it.”

“Looks like it.”

They spent thirty minutes walking the property before Robie sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree.

Reel came to stand in front of him.

“So?” she said.

“This property hasn’t had anything done to it in a long time. The fields are all overgrown. The farmhouse and barns have pretty much fallen in. The only thing left intact really is that shack at the very rear of the property.”

“Okay, what did you expect to see?”

“I expected to see some evidence of drilling for any oil and gas under the property. That process leaves signs, even after all these years. I don’t even see traces of an access road for the big equipment they would have hauled in here.”

“Well, maybe they didn’t find anything here.”

“There would still be evidence of them looking. And I was told that Clancy got a pretty penny for his property. No energy company is going to shell out big dollars unless they’re pretty damn sure whatever it is they’re looking for is here. They typically will do an exploratory contract to check. Or get permission to drill in from an adjacent property. But there really isn’t an adjacent property here. The rest of it is forest. There was one road in and out when I was growing up here and knew the Clancys. There’s still only one road. The one we walked up, because we couldn’t drive up it anymore. And it wasn’t nearly wide enough or sturdy enough for the sort of equipment they’d be bringing in to extract either the oil or gas.”

Reel sat down next to him. “So you think the sale of the mineral rights story was just a cover for how he really came by the money? A payoff for the photos?”

“I don’t see any other way it makes sense. Then Clancy could have used that money to buy into the Rebel Yell business.”

“So we need to find out who the guy in the photo is. He might have a motive to kill Clancy. Which might very well let your dad off the hook. By the way, when do I get to meet him?”

“You want to meet my father?”

“You got to meet mine.”

“He was in prison,” began Robie. Then he paused as Reel hiked her eyebrows at him.

“I just love ironic symmetry,” she said.

Robie had called Toni Moses on the way over and she was waiting for them with Dan Robie, in the visitor’s room at the jail.

Dan Robie eyed Reel curiously. “You saved Will’s butt?”

“One could interpret it that way,” said Reel matter-of-factly.

Dan looked at the wall. “Good you were there to clean up his mess.”

“Well, since he was there trying to save your butt maybe I cleaned up both your messes.”

Dan shot her a look while Moses studied both of them. She interjected, “Before we get too far down that road, did you find out what the files said?”

“We found out what they showed ,” amended Robie.

He slid open his laptop and brought the images up on the screen.

“Damn,” said Moses. “Who the hell is that?”