That was, not unless Mervin got a hefty chunk of it.

Rusty freely acknowledged that he’d been spoiled rotten. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d demanded something that he didn’t ultimately get. His mother was sweet and doting and thought the sun rose and set on her boy. She was also clueless to a laughable extent. He manipulated her unmercifully.

His dad had a loud bark, but he hailed from the school of Boys Will Be Boys. Not so secretly, he got a kick out of Rusty’s misbehavior. The more unsavory the misdeed, the more it tickled his dad. Rusty’s shenanigans, the more outlandish the better, showed a creative streak that his dad took pride in.

However, Rusty had no delusions about the depth of Sheriff Mervin Dyle’s affection and indulgence. It wasn’t bottomless. It wasn’t even skin-deep. If it came down to protecting Rusty or preserving his own position of power, his dad would give him over without hesitation and not waste an instant of regret over it.

Cutting Mervin a large slice of the pie would be Rusty’s only bargaining chip. He wouldn’t use it unless it became absolutely necessary, of course, and, if all went according to plan, it wouldn’t. He would be able to keep the Welch’s take all to himself, and neither parent would be the wiser.

If all went according to plan. There were still hindrances to success that must be eliminated. Which brought him back to Brian Foster. “What concerns me,” Rusty said, “is what Burnet will do or say.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’ll try to cut a deal. I’m afraid he’ll rat us out in exchange for a lighter drug charge.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“In a heartbeat.”

“The four of us made a pact.”

“Pact,” Rusty snickered. “You think a promise matters to that guy? You don’t know him like I do. He’s surly. Resentful. Believe me, he would betray us.”

Foster moaned an appeal to the almighty. “What are we going to do?”

“Well, first, we’re not going to panic. Burnet won’t parley until he’s talked to his lawyer. My guess is that their meeting won’t take place till morning, and maybe not till Monday, ’cause tomorrow’s Easter. But, in case I’m wrong, we need to hide this money. Tonight. Now.”

“Right, right. Hide it.”

“Where should we meet?”

“Meet?” Foster’s voice rose an octave. “You and me?”

“I’m not doing this alone, Foster.”

“But—”

“If something happened to me, nobody would know where the money was stashed.”

“What could happen to you?”

“Anything. Jesus! I could have a car wreck, fall in a fucking sinkhole. Anything. But what really scares me? If Burnet talks, he’ll give me over first, and it won’t matter that my daddy’s the sheriff. They’ll be after me. I can’t be caught with this money.

“If Burnet is granted bail, he’ll come after me. He’ll want to shut me up. Probably all of us.” He built in a strategic pause. A little longer. Then, “Look, never mind. I’ll figure it out for myself.”

“No, wait. Give me a sec to think.”

Rusty smiled but made himself sound put out. “Well, think fast. I’ve got to move on this.”

“I’ll help you.”

“If you’re afraid, if you’re going to be whimpering like a little girl the whole time—”

“No, I’m all right. Just nervous. But I don’t think Burnet will break the pact. I really don’t.”

“Think what you want. I’m counting on him selling us out. Which means…”

“What?”

“Well, I’m thinking that in addition to hiding the money, we need a fall guy.”

“Someone to take the blame?”

“That’s what fall guys do, Foster.”

“I know, I know, but—”

“We may not need one, but we should have it set up in case Burnet double-crosses us.”

Foster ruminated on it for so long that Rusty was ready to scream by the time he said, “Yeah, okay. It’s probably a good idea. But who?”

“The town drunk, otherwise known as Joe Maxwell.”

Chapter 14

Ledge sat with his legs wide apart, hands loosely clasped between his knees, head down, staring at the floor and wishing to God he could rewind the clock to when he’d woken up this morning and live today over again. Maybe then he wouldn’t be behind bars, sharing space with a stinking urinal.

But, hell, he probably would be. As Rusty had so accurately pointed out: In all this time, he hadn’t learned a damn thing.

“Burnet!”

Ledge raised his head. A deputy was unlocking the cell door. Ledge knew him to be a veteran of the sheriff’s office, long in the tooth and a heart attack waiting to happen. Perpetually short of breath, he wheezed when he talked. “Get your ass out of here. You’re free to go.”

“How come?”

“Do you care?”

“I haven’t even called a lawyer yet.”

“Then I guess this visit is on the house. Come on, move it. My pizza’s getting cold.”

Ledge quit arguing and stepped out of the cell. The deputy caught him by the sleeve. “It’ll piss me off good if I see you back in here.”

Ledge pulled his arm free. “Shouldn’t have been in here today.”

“Debatable. From what I’ve heard, anyway. But the DA thought it over and didn’t deem your offense arrest-worthy after all.”

“He’s all heart.”

The deputy gave a gruff snort. “Another deputy will meet you at that door and escort you out.” He pointed Ledge toward the end of the corridor, then shot a glance up at the security camera, leaned closer to Ledge, and whispered, “Do yourself a favor. Steer clear of the turd. You understand what I’m saying?”

Ledge bobbed his chin. “Thanks. A beer is on me the next time you come into the bar.”

“Wife’s got me off it.” He slapped his potbelly. “Says I’m getting fat.”

Ledge smiled at him before heading down the hall.

The deputy called after him, “Keep your nose clean.”

Ledge didn’t turn around, but waved his hand in acknowledgment.

He was processed out and returned his belongings. In the parking lot where he’d left his pickup, he found Don White leaning against the front fender. Ledge scowled as he approached him. “What are you doing here?”

Equally cantankerous, Don replied, “I was about to ask you the same.”

Ledge used his fob to unlock the doors of his truck, went around, and got in on the driver’s side. Don hiked himself up into the passenger seat. “Lord, it’s an oven in here. Start the engine, get some AC going.”

Ledge gave him a sour look. “Nobody invited you.” But he did as ordered, because his truck had sat in the sun for hours, and the interior was an oven. Soon, cooler air was whirring through the vents.

Don situated himself more comfortably in his seat.

Under his breath, Ledge said, “Here it comes,” which Don ignored.

“This morning,” he began, “when I got up, I had a voice mail from you, telling me that you were going to see Henry. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then midday, I got a call at work informing me that you were in jail. I’m having a hard time believing what I was told happened in between times.”

“Who called you?”

“Well, not you. I had to hear about your altercation with the district attorney through the grapevine. I was also told that if you didn’t have the good sense to call a good defense lawyer, I should do it in your stead, because you were likely to need one. By the time the tale got around to me, Dyle was said to be seeking the death penalty.”

“I’m glad you brought up ‘work.’”

“Out of everything I’ve said, that’s what you picked up on?”

“Well, since you won’t take the bar off my hands, I do still own the place. Who’s covering for you?”

“Don’t worry about it. I cashed in a favor or two. Unlike you, I have friends I can call for help in times of need.”

“I have friends.”

“Name one.”

Ledge was about to say Crystal but stopped himself. Crystal had never told him—never told him—that Rusty had been with her that night. It was a betrayal that cut him to the quick. Learning that had bothered him a hell of a lot more than being jailed.

Of course Rusty could have been lying, but Ledge didn’t think so. He’d seemed way too sure of himself, too goddamned smug, and the claim could be too easily denied or confirmed. By Crystal.

He tabled thoughts on that for now, and, instead of naming her as a friend, he claimed George.

“The physical therapist at the center? That George?”

“Yeah. Hell of a guy. He and I talked this morning.”

Don downshifted his aggravation level. “How was Henry?”

Ledge aimed one of the AC vents at himself, slumped in his seat, and laid his head back. He described Henry’s condition, then filled Don in on everything that related to Rusty. Except for his parting shot about Crystal.

“The bastard knew how I would react when I heard he’d brought the flowers, that he’d actually been in Henry’s room. I could have killed him on the spot. Stormed into his office, scared the receptionist. You know Ms. Raymond?”

“Alicia.”

Ledge looked at Don askance.

“Every once in a while she pops in for a drink.”

Ledge raised an eyebrow. “Does she?”