CHAPTER 14

Hennessy spent the following day in his office, reviewing the file for Palin’s case.

He had several other cases on his desk—DUIs, a petit larceny, and several traffic violations. Nothing that could sustain him for long and nothing that would stop the banks from taking his vineyard. His focus had to be on winning Palin’s case.

The case against John Tilly was building nicely. He didn’t need to hand the jury a smoking gun. All he had to do was plant the seed of doubt—show them the cracks in the story, the shadows where the truth could hide. Opportunity and motive, that was his play. If he could make the jurors believe Tilly had both, if he could convince the jury there was reasonable doubt that Palin was guilty, he could retire to the vineyard.

Stanwell Construction was a problem. Hennessy assumed Garrett would work them into the case to discredit Palin’s character. Hennessy knew little about the construction company, and while the discovery material had access to some of Palin’s accounting for them, it appeared nothing more than advice via a few emails and filing several hundred invoices. There was little indication that the company was a money laundering business.

After their meeting the day before, Hennessy expected Stanwell to react. Stanwell wasn’t the sort of man who would stand by while his livelihood was threatened.

As the time ticked past 10 p.m., Hennessy locked his office, checked the street, and walked to the parking lot at the rear of his building. Hennessy’s pickup truck was parked at the rear of the lot, in the furthest corner away from the building. It was dark, and only the single light next to the fence provided any illumination. He noticed the movement in the shadows as he approached.

Two men. Both tall. Both broad shouldered.

“Can I help you?”

Hennessy called out.

The two men stepped out of the shadows and into the light. They were the same two men from the work site the day before. “You sure can help us, pal.”

Hennessy tightened his grip on his briefcase. He calmed his breath as he gauged the distance to his truck. Fifteen feet.

“What do you want?”

“To convince you not to dig into areas you shouldn’t.”

The men were within striking distance. Hennessy had always loved boxing. It had been his passion for decades, a way to release the emotions he was too scared to talk about.

“And how would you convince me to do that?”

“With our fists.”

The first swinging fist came from the left. Hennessy saw it coming, and leaned to his right, allowing the punch to whizz past in thin air. The second fist came from the second man. It was a wild hook. Hennessy leaned back, stepping out of range.

Both men looked at each other. “You move well for an old man.”

Hennessy responded with a quick left jab to the man’s nose, followed by a solid right hook to the chin. It was his favorite combination, the one he’d practiced thousands of times over and over again in the boxing gym. The first man fell to the ground.

The second man lunged, swinging hard. Hennessy slipped to his right and smashed his left fist into the man’s open ribs. The man doubled over, gasping for air.

The first man rose to his feet. He lifted his shirt to show the Glock tucked into his jeans. He removed it and held it in front of him.

Hennessy stepped back.

“Not so tough now, are ya?”

Hennessy resisted the urge to point out the irony of the statement. He didn’t think the man would understand. As much as he enjoyed fighting, as skillful as he was at boxing, he couldn’t dodge a bullet.

The second man stood up straight, holding his hand on his ribs. He stood next to Hennessy and leaned close. “I’m going to punch you in the ribs, and you’re not going to move.”

Hennessy took a step back.

“Or we can sort it out another way.”

The first man wiped the blood from his mouth and waved the gun. “Your choice, old man.”

The Glock remained steady in the man’s hands. It was clear it wasn’t the first time he pointed a gun at a man.

While Hennessy’s attention was on the weapon, the second man delivered a brutal punch to his ribs. Pain shot through Hennessy as he collapsed to his knees. A boot followed, slamming into his stomach and robbing him of air. Hennessy gasped, clutching his midsection as another kick sent him sprawling to the ground.

Another boot connected with his stomach. Hennessy sucked in deep.

“This is the only time we ask—do not dig into Stanwell Construction’s business dealings.”

The first man leaned down close to Hennessy’s ear. “Because we won’t be as nice if we need to return and ask you again.”