The private investigator stubbed out his cigarette and studied his client through thick lenses. “Positive, and even if you’re entertaining thoughts about keeping it quiet, I can’t. I’ve got some responsibility to the law, y’know.” He tossed the neatly typed report across the desk.
“As well as your clients.”
“Doesn’t matter. If you want to keep something the size of this quiet, Trask, you’ll have to use every bit of senatorial pull you have in this state. Even that might not be enough.”
“I didn’t say I wanted to keep it quiet.”
“Good. Now, if you’re worried about your career once the truth is known…” The young man shrugged and smiled.
“I don’t give a damn about my career!”
“Still the rogue senator, right?”
Trask’s face tensed and his eyes dropped to the damning document lying on the polished mahogany of the desk. He picked it up and folded it neatly into the manila envelope John offered. “This is going to be one hell of a mess,” he thought aloud.
“But it will be over,” John replied. The investigator’s voice sounded like a trumpet of doom.
“Yes, I suppose it will,” Trask replied. “I guess I should thank you.” He placed the thick envelope in his jacket pocket and tossed the coat over his arm.
“I guess maybe you should,” John replied with a smile, though his eyes remained sober.
Trask strode out of the office feeling as if the weight of the world had been placed upon his shoulders. So Tory had been right all along: Calvin Wilson had been innocent! But not so her younger brother, Keith. And that news would destroy her. No doubt she would blame Trask.
Trask’s blood began to boil with anger when he thought about how many times Keith had lied through his teeth, not only to Trask, but to Tory as well. Letting out a descriptive curse, Trask walked down the short flight of stairs to the ground floor. According to John Davis’s report, which the investigator had double-checked, Keith Wilson and not Calvin Wilson had been involved in the Quarter Horse swindle five years past. All Trask’s testimony at the original trial had been in error. Calvin Wilson had only been trying to protect his teenaged son from prosecution.
“Crazy old fool,” Trask muttered as he walked out of the building and climbed into his Blazer. He threw the truck into gear and let out a stream of oaths against himself and the whole vile mess that Linn Benton had conceived. The aftermath of the ex-judge’s illegal scam was ruining the lives of the only people he really cared about. Tory, Neva and Nicholas had
all been innocent victims of a plot so malicious it had included the murder of his brother.
Trask’s mouth twisted downward and he could feel his jaw clench at the stupidity of Keith Wilson. All of Tory’s precious trust would be shattered when she found out the truth about her brother and that Trask had helped send her father, an innocent man, to prison. “Damn it, Wilson,” he swore, as if Calvin were in the Blazer with him. “Why couldn’t you have said something before being so goddamned noble!”
* * *
TORY WALKED OUT of the bank and into the blazing heat of midafternoon. Her head throbbed and the muscles in the back of her neck ached. For the past two hours she had explained the profit and loss statements, as well as going over the assets and liabilities of the Lazy W to a disinterested young loan officer.
“I’ll let you know,” the bored young man had said. “But I can’t make any promises right now. Your loan application, along with the financial statements and a status report of your current note with the bank will have to be reviewed by the loan committee as well as by the president of the bank.”
“I see,” Tory had replied, forcing a discouraged smile. She knew, whether the young man admitted it or not, that he was peddling her nothing more than financial double-talk. The Lazy W didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of receiving more funds from this particular bank. “And how long will it take before I can expect an answer?” Tory had asked.
“The loan committee meets next Thursday.”
“Fine.” She had stood, shook the banker’s soft hand and walked out of the building, certain that the Lazy W would have to secure operating capital from another source.
After stopping by Rasmussen Feed for several sacks of oats and bran for the horses, Tory made her weekly visit to the grocery store and bought a local newspaper along with her week’s supply of groceries. Once the sacks were loaded in the pickup, she glanced at the headlines on the front page of the paper.
The article was small, but located on page one. In five neatly typed paragraphs it reported that Senator Trask McFadden was back in Sinclair looking into the possibility that there may have been a fourth conspirator in his brother’s death as well as the Quarter Horse swindle of five years past. The Sinclair Weekly promised a follow-up story the next week.
“Wonderful,” Tory muttered with a groan, tossing the newspaper aside and heading back to the Lazy W.
The past two weeks had been quiet and Tory had ignored her earlier doubts about the past to the point that she had let herself fall completely and recklessly in love with Trask all over again. There had been no threats or violence and oftentimes Tory would allow herself to forget the reason that Trask had come back to Sinclair. She had even managed not to dwell on the fact that he would be leaving for Washington D.C. very shortly.
Though she was still worried about the threats of violence that seemed to have accompanied him back to the Lazy W, Tory had thought less and less about them as Trask’s wounds had healed and there hadn’t been any further incidents. Unfortunately, the Sinclair Weekly decided to stir things up.
Just let me love him without the rest of the world intruding, she silently prayed.
Of course her hopes were in vain. With the article in the newspaper, everything came crashing back to reality. No longer could she ignore the real reason Trask had returned to Sinclair. Nor could she forget that he would leave as soon as he had finished his investigation.
And then what? she asked herself. What about all his words of love, promises of marriage? Is that what you want? To be married to a United States senator who lives in Washington D.C.? And what if he isn’t sincere? What if this has all been an adventure for him—nothing more. He left you once before. Nothing says he can’t do it again.