Chapter 11

11

His clerk met him just inside his office early the next morning. Dale didn't need the little prick this morning. He just didn't. But he kept his mouth shut. He knew why Kelby thought his shit didn't stink. Kelby Londell was just as dirty as any other crudsucker they had had come through their court since they had been "appointed" to work together ten years ago.

Kelby was a damned plant. He hadn't earned his way to his position. He wasn't fooling anyone that he had, either. There were powerful men in the state of Wyoming, and they controlled everything.

For profit. All of it was for profit. Dale had profited right along with them.

"What do you want?" Dale asked. He wasn't going to let the little prick get to him. He never had, he never would. They both served a function. And that function had made them both very wealthy men through the years. Very wealthy. Kelby was damned foolish in how he flaunted it around—but Dale was smart. He'd hidden his gains as investments for years.

His wife's investments, actually. On paper, Dale had made sure his wife's investments showed far more profit than they actually did. Which was saying something—Michelle was damned good at managing their portfolios. Dale's wife—that woman could move money like magic. Spend it, too. No denying she could spend it.

But most of it she'd made with help from Morris Preston. But she and her cousins Morris and Victor—they had taken a dollar and turned it into ten almost by blowing on it. Dale had benefited, no denying that. For decades.

But Victor was dead now, and Morris was sitting in jail on multiple charges. Dale and Michelle were doing the best they could to ensure they didn't end up on the same damned block as Morris.

"Did you know that damned Barratt that bought Morris's place is connected to that cop spearheading the investigation into the drugs?" Kelby didn't even wait for Dale to take off his damned coat.

"How so?" Kelby had a problem with men like Brandt Barratt. Dale thought it stemmed from insecurity. "And is it going to be a problem?"

"Hell yes, it's going to be a damned problem. He walked right into those three fools searching the place last night. Those idiots almost killed him. Screwups couldn't even do it right. Now he's in the hospital, and the cops are all over the place." Kelby paced. Dale studied the little shit. Kelby wasn't any bigger than five six or so, and if he could bench press fifty pounds, Dale doubted it. "Heard the fucking general is all up in arms or something. Barratt's a personal friend of his daughters or something, apparently. General Talley is threatening to call in the FBI."

"I did know about last night. No surprise, dumbass. Talley's oldest daughter is FBI. The cops got any leads on who did it?"

"DNA isn't back yet."

"But there was DNA found? Shit." Dale smirked at the younger man, even though he knew what it could mean if that DNA tied back. "Someone better clean it up, then. Get rid of the problem somehow."

They had contacts in the state lab who could make certain bits of evidence conveniently get lost when needed. Dale had seen it before. Had even used it before.

Morris Preston and his minions had a damned corner on the market here in the southwestern part of the state. No denying that. Dale had watched it grow like a wart. Over years. But it was there now.

Clive Gunderson, the screwup former sheriff of Masterson County, had made it so simple to do. Dale hadn't been the one responsible, but he had watched it happen—and when the price was right, he had helped. He had been raised to know that one hand helped the other.

He had helped his wife's cousin when he had been asked—and Morris had repaid those favors. Tenfold. Dale had been extremely careful to keep all traces hidden. He wasn't too worried, but there was always the chance a mistake had been made. On someone else's end.

Morris wasn't infallible—his current predicament illustrated that very well.

"Well, you should care more. Rumors are coming out that Morris documented everything. How he planned to kill that sheriff's deputy who married Gil Tyler, how he killed all those women he supposedly offed, where every single nickel and dime he had came from. How he planned to frame Barratt for shit coming out of Texas since he just so conveniently found his way up here. The names of everyone who helped him with anything illegal, ever. That means you, too."

Dale froze, turned. And straightened until he loomed over the smaller man. "You mean…that information is just sitting out there somewhere?"

"You think I want to go sit in the cell next to Morry? Not fucking likely, Dale. We need to make this go away somehow. If Barratt stumbles on something out there and turns it over to the cops, everything we've got won't matter one damned bit. You need to speed up your plans for him."

Barratt was going to be a bigger problem than he'd anticipated. As soon as Kelby was gone, Dale made a phone call. He had contacts in Finley Creek. It was time to clean up the problem.