CHAPTER FIVE

Kyle—

My alarm goes off, and I crack an eye open, find my phone on the nightstand, and turn it off. And all at once the shit with Rafe floods back.

Fuck.

There's no way I can hire his girlfriend.

How the hell can I get out of this without admitting the real reason?

In all the long hours I lay awake last night, I didn't come up with anything better than avoiding my brother.

I pull on a pair of sweatpants and pad into the kitchen, lighting a smoke and making a cup of coffee. Stepping onto my back porch, I sit at the small table and check out the view. It's almost noon, and I haven't had a single message. Maybe that's a sign it'll be a good day.

I text TJ.

ME: WHAT'S GOING ON TODAY WITH THE CLUB?

TJ: YOU, ME AND BILLY ARE GOING WITH COLE TO SILVER'S OFFICE. CHECK THROUGH HIS FILES FOR ANY INFORMATION WE CAN USE TO FIGURE OUT WHO PUT TWO BULLETS THROUGH THE BACK OF HIS HEAD.

ME: GREAT. WHEN DO WE LEAVE?

TJ: MEET AT HIS OFFICE IN AN HOUR.

ME: WHERE THE HELL IS IT?

TJ: DOWNTOWN. 28 N 1 st St

By the time I pull up at the designated address and back my bike to the curb, I'm five minutes late. The other three beat me here. Cole, Billy, and TJ stand on the sidewalk.

"You're late," Cole snaps.

"Sorry. I took a wrong turn, ended up on a maze of one-way streets." I step on the curb and lean back to stare at the ten-story structure. It's an older building judging by the art deco style of architecture. I'm guessing maybe 1930s. "This the place?"

"Yeah." Cole remains on the sidewalk, smoking a cigarette.

"We goin' in?" I ask.

"Waiting on the widow to let us inside," Billy replies.

We stand around a few minutes until the silver Mercedes whooshes down the street and parks at the curb. The pretty blonde climbs out of the driver's seat and approaches. My eyes sweep down her. She's dressed in slim jeans, heels, a light-colored trench coat, and a designer handbag over her arm. She hardly looks the part of a grieving widow, but what would I know about it?

"Cole, thank you for coming." She puts her hands on his arms, then looks at the rest of us. "I thought you'd be alone."

Our prez may be in his fifties, but like Brad Pitt, he's aged well.

"This is some of my crew, Jos." He nudges her hands off him. "Show us Harry's office."

She leads the way into the building, past the guy at the desk who stands and practically trips over himself to bow to her.

"Mrs. Silver. I heard about Harry. I'm so sorry."

She nods, but doesn't stop as she leads us to the elevator.

He eyes our leather cuts and Evil Dead patches. "Is everything all right, Mrs. Silver?"

"Yes, Chad. Thank you." She hits the button; the doors glide open, and we all step on.

It's small and crowded with all of us. I stand to her side and inhale her expensive perfume in the tight space. She pushes her designer sunglasses on her head. It's only then I notice the red rims around her eyes. She hides her grief well, but it seems she really is torn up about her husband's death.

We exit on the third floor and follow her down the hall. She stops at the end in front of a set of double doors. A brass plate reads, LAW OFFICES OF HARRY SILVER, SUITE 310 . She inserts a key and lets us inside. We step into a reception area with a desk on the right and a couple of chairs set up like a waiting area.

Cole lifts his chin to the desk. "Who sits here?"

"That would be me."

Cole cocks his head. "You worked together?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" She doesn't wait for a reply. "Harry's office is through here."

Straight in front of us is an open doorway that leads to a small room. A soft drink machine takes up a good portion of it. She walks through, and we follow, all of us stopping dead when we see a massive safe the size of a small refrigerator sitting just on the other side of the wall. It looks like it's been here since the building was built.

Cole points to it. "You keep a lot of cash in this?"

"He did." She lifts a brow. "I gave you most of it yesterday."

Cole's jaw tightens, and she leads the way into the next room.

It's a large, deep office. A huge bookcase takes up the left wall, and surprisingly, the place is decorated with a lot of personal stuff. There are the standard framed licenses and diplomas behind the desk, but there's also a variety of odd things that show another side of our lawyer. There's a framed Joe Namath football jersey on the wall, a samurai sword next to it, an autographed photo of Keanu Reeves, a golden buddha, and a free-standing gumball machine, of all things.

Harry Silver was an odd man. Or maybe he was an onion with many layers.

Joselyn moves behind the desk, unlocks a file drawer and takes out a stack of three file folders, plopping them on the desk. "These are the cases Harry was working on when he died. Nothing of much importance."

"What were they?" Cole asks.

She lifts the first one. "Tyler Mann. Beat up his wife in a drunken rage. First offense. I'm sure Harry was going to get him off on probation. He'd have no reason to kill my husband." She lifts the next file. "Joey Garza, three-time loser with a penchant for car theft. He was in lockup at the time of Harry's murder."

"And the last one?" Cole asks.

"The almond grower I told you about. The one in the San Joaquin Valley who came to Harry for help, trying to get the person responsible for dumping chemicals in the creek upstream from his orchards." She checks the name on the file folder. "His name is Machado. Mateo Machado."

Cole folds his arms. "I didn't know Harry did that type of law."

"Environmental? He didn't. But, regardless of what you think of him, Harry had a heart. He felt sorry for the guy. He's a third-generation grower just trying to hang on to the family farm." She lifts her chin. "You think there might be something there?"

"I don't know. Maybe whoever polluted the stream is a heavy hitter. You mess with the wrong people, they get pissed." Cole makes a motion with his hand, indicating he wants to see the file.

"It seems like a stupid thing to kill a man over." She passes it to him.

Prez plops in the leather chair in front of the desk and flips through the file.

I study the bookcase and all the law books and odd bookends and knickknacks, thinking about how I never really knew the guy.

Cole holds the folder up. "Can I take this?"

"Of course. Do you really think that's the key?"

"I don't know. You said there was no money missing, and he wasn't killed here, so I'm thinking whoever did it lured him out for a meeting. Unless there was a new client you don't know about, I'm thinking we start with this guy." He studies her. "Anything else you can think of?"

"No." She pauses. "Just the trip to Las Vegas the week before he died."

"And you think it's connected to this case? You said as much at the club."

"Yes, but he never told me all the details."

Cole lifts a brow. "I'm guessing his murder had nothing to do with the wife-beater or the car thief. Sounds like it was either this case or a new client. He didn't tell you more? Seems odd. You worked with him."

"I was busy that week. Our daughter is getting married." She looks forlornly to the floor. "And now she'll have no one to walk her down the aisle."

Cole frowns, and we all shift on our feet.

"I'm sorry about Harry, Jos. I'll do what I can. Can you get his phone records from the company you use?"

She nods. "Of course."

"It'd be helpful if you mark which numbers you recognize and who they belong to."

"I'll do it today."

"The day he went missing… What happened?"

"We were both in the office. I was consumed with wedding plans. There was a meeting with the caterer that afternoon. When I left the office, he was still here, working at his desk."

"So, I'm thinking he got a call that lured him away."

She searches our prez's eyes. "I'll get the phone records."

Cole holds up the file. "We'll talk to Mr. Machado."

She steps closer to Cole and takes his hand. "I really appreciate your help. I don't know what I'd do without you, Cole."

"I can't promise anything, Jos."

"I understand."

Prez pulls his hand free. "Call me when you get the phone records."

We head out the door, and she stays behind.

Cole looks back. "Lock the door after us."

She frowns. "You think I'm in danger?"

"Until we figure this out, it's best to be cautious. Whoever did this might come here looking for something. We just don't know."

"I'll be careful."

We head to the elevator and ride down. Walking out, Chad the doorman gives us a wide-eyed stare.

"Where's Mrs. Silver?" he asks, like we just left her upstairs with her throat slit.

"Relax, Chad," Cole says. "She had some calls to make." He approaches the man and rests his fists on the desk.

Chad leans back in terror.

"Did you have any unusual visitors the week Mr. Silver died?"

Chad shakes his head. "No. No one. I swear."

We leave the man shaking in his shoes and walk to our bikes.

"What do you think?" TJ asks his father.

"I'm thinking we drive to Machado Almond Co." He flips open the file and checks the information. Then pulls it up on his phone's map app. "Looks like the orchard is near the intersection of I5 and I40, north of Santa Nella. Come on. Let's go, boys."

"How far is it?" Billy asks. "I've got a little over a half a tank."

"Eighty-nine miles. You'll make it. There's a gas station at the exit."

We mount up and head out.