Found Money - James Grippando [112]
“It’s a reasonable fear. Your needs are different than your brother’s. He’s a doctor who can make a ton of money on his own, if he so chooses. But just like you, Liz needs and deserves the money. So when Brent came forward to help Liz, he was really looking out for you. By the same token, whatever I do for Liz also helps you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What can you do for me?”
“I can help you make sure that Brent didn’t die in vain.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means I intend to honor the agreement Brent and I reached. So long as his widow will help me reach the same objectives.”
“I need specifics.”
“Very simple,” said Jackson. “There’s three million dollars in the bank. According to Brent, you and Ryan were going to divide it fifty-fifty. Liz was supposed to get nothing.”
Sarah blinked. The way he said it made it sound like they really were cheating Liz.
Jackson continued, “So here’s the deal. You keep your share of the inheritance. And as an added incentive to make sure Liz gets her fair share, you get twenty percent of whatever you help Liz take from Ryan.”
“Mr. Jackson, this is my brother we’re talking about.”
He stepped closer, pointing out the purple bruises beneath his facial makeup. “Your brother hired someone to beat the crap out of me. And he may have gotten your husband killed.”
“We can’t be sure of that.”
“We don’t have to be sure. I’m not trying to put him in jail, and I’m not asking you to go that far, either. All we have to do is make the judge in the divorce case think Ryan could possibly have been connected to either act of violence. If the judge so much as suspects that’s true, we all come out winners.”
“I don’t know,” she said, wincing.
“Okay,” said Jackson. “You get thirty percent of whatever Liz takes from Ryan. After my fee is paid, of course.”
Sarah felt a rush of adrenaline. After years of abuse from Brent, the very act of negotiating gave her a sense of efficacy she’d never felt before. The best part was, Jackson still didn’t even seem to know about the other two million in the attic. Brent must not have told him.
“Tell you what,” she said coyly. “I will definitely think about it.” She stepped back and started to close the door.
Jackson stopped her. “When can I expect to hear from you?”
“When I’m good and ready,” she replied, then swung the door shut.
A deputy from the Prowers County Sheriff’s Department was at the Duffy homestead well before breakfast. On Norm’s advice—insistence, really—Ryan had called to report the break-in. The deputy was a high school classmate of Ryan’s, dressed in the familiar light green summer uniform with short sleeves. Ryan spoke to him alone, keeping his mother out of it as the two men walked around back to the kitchen door. The broken glass pane had the markings of typical Prowers County criminal mischief, according to the deputy. Juvenile crimes consumed three-quarters of his time.
Ryan offered no opinions as to the age of the perpetrator. The trick was simply to report the break-in without digressing into the murder, the money, or the blackmail.
“Was anything taken from the house?” asked the deputy.
“I don’t know for sure,” said Ryan. It was the truth. He had yet to check his father’s dresser drawer to confirm that the gun had actually been taken.
“When did you first notice the broken glass?”
“This morning.” Again, the truth. It had been after midnight by the time he had gone to Josh Colburn’s office, phoned Amy, and returned home to inspect the window.
The report was finished in just a few minutes. Out of sympathy for the family tragedy—meaning Brent—the deputy didn’t detain Ryan any longer than necessary. Ryan thanked him and watched him pull out of the driveway, shielding his eyes as the squad car disappeared into the low morning sun.
Ryan climbed the front stairs, stopping on the porch. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of an approaching car up the road. A truck, actually. It was coming quickly, splashing through muddy puddles of last night’s rain. A hundred yards away he could see the driver. It