Free Fire - C. J. Box [12]
“Who do you suppose is the target?” Joe asked as Marybeth joined him on the couch. The log home was sturdy, dark, and comfortable, despite its age. Generations of ranch foremen and their families had lived there before Joe and Marybeth, and they’d taken good care of it and, like so many old ranch structures, added on. There were three bedrooms. The kitchen was bright and sunny and looked out over the Twelve Sleep River, and the living room where Joe sat—the original room of the home—had elk and deer antlers on the walls and cattle brands burned into the logs. A rarely used stone fireplace dominatedthe north wall. A family photo covered a section of the wall where, for a reason never explained, someone had fired six bullets into a log from inside. Walking through the house in the dark was an adventure. Corners of rooms were out of square and floors weren’t level from room to room. The house had character and was filled with the benevolent legacy of past cowboysand their families. Joe loved the place, despite the circumstancesof how they had come to live there.
Marybeth said, “I’ve been thinking about it, and I can come up with one man. Earl Alden.”
“Ah,” Joe said. They called him the Earl of Lexington. Alden was a Southern multibillionaire media mogul who had recently bought the former Scarlett Ranch. He divided his time between the ranch and three other residences in Lexington, New York City, and Chamonix. The rumor was that Mrs. Alden didn’t like their ranch, and she rarely came with him. The fact that there was a Mrs. Alden had never posed much of a hurdle to Missy before.
“The Earl just gave a couple hundred thousand to the Twelve Sleep County Arts Council,” Marybeth said. “So it’s possible he’ll be at the meeting tonight.”
“Where Missy can begin her charm offensive,” Joe said.
“Exactly.”
Joe said, “How did you turn out so well?”
Marybeth smiled. “My mother wouldn’t agree. She wonders where she went wrong.” Missy made no secret of how she had hoped Marybeth—the smartest of her children—would become a corporate attorney or a U.S. senator, or at least follow her exampleand marry one.
Joe patted himself on the chest. “I was your downfall.”
Marybeth sat back and facetiously looked him over, nodding.“Yes. Marrying you doomed me. Then you made me have our children. Now I’m trapped.”
Joe thought, She’s kidding but her mother is not.
Joe told her about the offer from the governor. He gauged her reaction carefully as he laid it out. He noticed that while he spoke, she glanced several times at the file folder in his lap.
When he was through, she hesitated for a beat and said, “Can we trust him?”
“The governor?”
“Yes.”
He wasn’t sure how to answer. He said, “If we can’t trust our governor, who can we trust?”
She rolled her eyes. “I need a glass of wine.”
Joe thought about her question while she was gone. He dug deep. Did he trust Spencer Rulon?
When she came back with two glasses, he said, “No, not completely.”
“The deal as you describe it makes me uncomfortable,” she said. “They either hire you back or they don’t. From what you tell me, you’ll be operating on your own with no backup and no support. If you get into trouble, you’re on your own. We’re on our own. What is that phrase politicians like to use?”
“Plausible deniability.”
“Right. And how do we know Randy Pope won’t do everythinghe can to undermine you at every turn?”
“I expect him to do that,” Joe said.
She sighed, sipped her wine. “Remember how frustrated you were with the bureaucracy, with fighting against the system? Do you think you could live within it again—do you think it’s changed at all?”
Joe shook his head. “Not a bit.”
“Do