The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(37)

“But I didn’t talk,” Willard whispered to himself, over and over throughout his shift. I did exactly what he told me to do...

At 1am, Willard clocked out and walked to his car. When he climbed in the front seat, he lit up another cigarette and closed his eyes. The nicotine was helping, but it wasn’t enough. I need to get drunk.

He was thinking about what brand of six-pack he was going to buy at the filling station on the way home when he felt a blunt object press against the back of his head.

“Don’t move, Willard,” a male voice said. “Don’t move and you might live to see tomorrow.”

“What the–”

Willard’s face slammed against the steering wheel, and his head was jerked around. Now he saw the man, and he felt his bladder beginning to give way.

“Yeah, it’s me, Willard. Remember our little agreement. I think you cashed in rather nicely.”

“I didn’t say a word, I promise,” Willard said. “I told them I couldn’t remember anything.” Now the gun was pressed into Willard’s forehead and he let go of his bladder.

“That’s good, Willard. That’s real good. I like it when people meet their end of the bargain. I was just thinking how awful it was going to be to take out your indiscretions on Sally and Lindsay. What is Lindsay now, sixteen? She’s really pretty, Willard.”

Willard was crying now, and his bowels had opened up too. “I... didn’t... say... anything.”

“Good, Willard. Good. Well, it’s starting to stink in here. I’m going to go.”

The man opened the car door, but did not walk away. With minimal effort, he forearmed the driver’s side window, and the glass pelted down on Willard Carmichael’s crying face.

“One more thing, Willard. If I ever see you talking with Rick Drake or his little hottie assistant again, after I rape and kill your wife and daughter while you watch, I’m going to cut your dick off and choke you to death with it.” The man winked at the petrified eyes that stared back at him.

“Have a nice day.”





26


Rick barely said a word from Montgomery to Tuscaloosa. Of all the lawyers to defend this case, he kept thinking, trying to tell himself that it was a good sign that Jameson Tyler had been retained by Willistone. That means they know they’re exposed. They wouldn’t have retained a heavy hitter like Tyler if they weren’t scared. Though the thoughts were true, Rick couldn’t block out the needling he’d endured from Tyler and Julian Witt.

It’s always going to be like that, he knew. Every lawyer I encounter is going to bring up the YouTube video. If they don’t bring it up, they’ll know about it and they’ll laugh behind my back.

“You OK?” Dawn finally asked, as the Tuscaloosa City Limits sign came into view.

“Fine,” Rick said, irritated at having his thoughts disturbed.

“Coulda fooled me,” Dawn pressed, turning to face him. “You haven’t said a word in over an hour. I was about to check for a pulse.”

“I’m fine,” Rick repeated. “It’s just–” Rick shook his head “–I let those guys get to me, that’s all.”

“I think you handled them fine,” Dawn said. “They were very unprofessional, and I think it pissed off Mr Russell.”

Rick shrugged. “Russell was cool.” Reflexively, Rick reached into his pocket and pulled out the business card that Russell had given him. “Be sure to put this in the file,” he said, handing it to her. “I probably shouldn’t call him – Witt was right about that – but...”

“Rick,” Dawn interrupted, her voice anxious. Glancing at her, Rick saw that she had turned the business card over. There were handwritten words on the back of the card.

“What does it say?” he asked.

“‘Faith Bulyard, (205) 645-5558.’”

Rick felt his stomach jump. “That name sounds familiar. Bulyard...” Rick thought back to the articles he’d read about the accident and the Ultron fire. “Damnit, why does–”

“Buck Bulyard was the president of the Tuscaloosa plant,” Dawn interrupted, her voice excited. “He died in the fire.”

Rick raised his eyebrows at her in wonder. “How did–”

“I read your investigative files this morning when I got to work. The articles also said that his wife, Faith, worked for Ultron too.”

Rick shook his head in bewilderment. “Why the hell would Russell put Faith Bulyard’s phone number on the back of his business card? Do you think he gave me that by mistake?”

Dawn shook her head. “No way. This has to be a subtle way of him trying to help us.”

“But why?” Rick asked. “Why would Hank Russell want to help us?”

“I don’t know. But why else would he give you a card with Ms Bulyard’s name and number on it? The newspaper articles I read said that Faith Bulyard worked in... record-keeping, I think. Oh, my God, maybe she knows something.”

Rick pondered the possibilities, and knew Dawn had to be right. Hank Russell had seemed perturbed throughout the meeting with Willard Carmichael. Ms Bulyard’s name and number had to be his way of throwing a bone their way.

“Read the number out to me,” Rick said, taking out his cell phone.