CHAPTER 15

Barry Lockett handed Hennessy a beer.

They sat on two camping chairs in Lockett’s yard, enjoying the weekend sunshine. His yard was big, edged by tall trees, and with the perfect lawn. The grass was so green it almost looked painted. It was a source of pride for Lockett. He had erected four posts at the back of the yard, two tall ones in the middle and two smaller ones on the outside, determined to teach his son to play his beloved sport of Australian Rules Football. He wasn’t having much luck. Like most of the boys in his class, his son was inspired by the NFL.

Hennessy grimaced as he moved to his left.

“You’ll be sore for a week,”

Lockett said, pointing to Hennessy’s ribs. “With a bruise like that, I’m surprised they’re not broken.”

Hennessy nodded. After the assault, he got behind the wheel, drove himself to the hospital, and let them slide him under the cold glare of an X-ray machine. There were no breaks, the doctors told him, but he’d be sore for a while. When they asked him what happened, he said he fell down the stairs. They didn’t believe him, but that didn’t matter. Hennessy wasn’t going to go after the thugs of Stanwell Construction.

Two days later, he was on a diet of Advil and beer, sitting in Lockett’s yard, enjoying the sunshine.

“Need me to stick around the office?”

Lockett offered. “Provide some protection?”

“No, I’m good. They won’t come back unless I do something stupid.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“I might be courageous, but I’m not dumb,”

Hennessy responded and pointed to the large yard. “You won’t have time to do it anyway. You’ve got to look after this beautiful lawn. I don’t think I’ve seen a lawn as nice as this in someone’s yard. This is good enough to play golf on.”

“I love having a green lawn,”

Lockett said as he pointed to the large patch of grass. “In Queensland, Australia, where I grew up, you could only have a lawn if we weren’t going through a drought. If there was a drought, you couldn’t water your lawn. It’s too much of a waste of water. So, for most of my childhood, my family’s lawn was just a patch of dusty, dry grass. But when the drought broke, and we could have a lawn again, you felt so privileged, like a higher power was working in your favor.”

Lockett admired his lawn for a moment and smiled. “I love that my kids get the privilege of having a nice lawn.”

“We love to give our kids what we didn’t have,”

Hennessy said as Lockett’s youngest child ran around with a football, passing it to one of his friends. They screamed with delight when one of the kids threw a perfect spiral. “Your kids are growing up. They’re going to be young adults before you know it.”

“My eldest is a senior high school student next year, and the youngest is in his last year of middle school. They’ve got their mother’s genes when it comes to intelligence. The two of them are smarter than I ever was. My daughter was doing her math homework last night, and I looked at it, and it made my head spin. X equals Y, and B equals A, and C equals D. Man, I can’t keep up. So, I said to her, ‘Do you know what’s odd about math?’ She didn’t know, so I told her, ‘Every other number.’”

“Ha,”

Hennessy chuckled. “I like it.”

“Yeah. She didn’t laugh.”

“You should ask her why you should never argue with a ninety-degree angle—it’s because they’re always right.”

“That’s worse than mine, and she’ll hate that, so I’ll definitely tell her that one.”

Lockett laughed. He sipped on his beer as a gentle breeze blew through the yard. “How’s the vineyard? Good crop this year?”

“It’s looking like one of our best years. We’ve had a warm growing season with lots of sunlight. We’ve had enough rain, but not too much, and there’s been no signs of black rot. It’s shaping up as our best ever year.”

“Good to hear.”

Lockett paused and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And if you win this case? Is that it in Charleston?”

Hennessy nodded. “That was always the goal. Earn enough to get in front of the bank loans and then move back to the vineyard. That was the only reason I came back to practice law. And if we win this case, I can move back Upstate.”

“And the firm?”

“It would be the end of it.”

“If it comes to that, then I just want to say—”

“Save it,”

Hennessy smiled. “We haven’t won the case yet. Don’t jinx us.”

“I was going to say, ‘If it comes to that, and you close the firm, then I want you to know that you’ve been the worst boss I’ve ever had,’ but sure, I’ll save it until we’ve won the case,”

Lockett laughed.

Hennessy laughed with him. “A part of me will miss all this. The intensity of a trial, the investigation, uncovering new angles. There’s always been something about the law that fascinates me. I love the courtroom.”

“And you really think you can win it? The evidence against Palin is solid.”

“The evidence is good, but there’s hope. Debra Fisher and John Tilly are our best chances to convince a jury that someone else could’ve done this. They had access to the files, they had access to the accounts, and they had the motive to steal the money.”

Hennessy sipped his beer. “If we can get them on the stand and expose their affair, then there’s a good chance they’ll crumble under the pressure.”

“Think the jury would buy it?”

“Tilly and Fisher both come from marriages where the children have left home. Tilly had access to the bank accounts, and both Fisher and Tilly had access to the reports. They could’ve worked together to plan the transfers. And their affair makes them look morally questionable. If it weren’t for the tip-off that said Palin was the guilty party, the police would’ve gone after them first.”

Hennessy’s cell rang. He looked at the number, nodded to Barry, and answered the call. “Aaron Garrett. It’s a Sunday afternoon. I wouldn’t have expected you to be working.”

“I wish this call was under better circumstances,”

Garrett said. “I’ve just received news about the Palin case, and I feel it’s best that you hear it from me.”

“What is it?”

“We’ve a police report that states Witness Two and Witness Three have been reported as missing persons.”