The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(63)

In the den, Musso growled and rose to his feet, ears up, watching his master. Tom licked his knuckles and glared at his dog. “You got something to say?”

Musso growled louder, and Tom turned away, stumbling over the mail, towards the door, which Rick had left open when he left. Tom knew he should sit down, but there was no way he could rest. He needed to move. To think. To do something. He looked back for Musso, but the dog was already on his heels.

“Come on, boy,” he ordered, shutting the door behind them and walking towards the cornfield. “Let’s go for a walk.”





49


Tom sat on a rock, looking down at the shallow stream at the edge of the farm. He was exhausted, and he didn’t know if he could make it back to the house. What was I thinking? Walking all this way the day after a treatment. I’m too damn sick to go on a two-mile hike.

Below him, Musso’s breath came in gasps. It was way too hot for him to be walking this far. After going down to the stream for a drink of water, Musso had collapsed at Tom’s feet.

Closing his eyes, Tom let his mind wander. Rick needed him. Rick, whom Tom had referred Ruth Ann’s case to, had come to him. Had fallen on his sword and asked for help. That was big for him, Tom knew. Huge.

And Tom had said no.

Standing on wobbly legs, Tom gazed up at the sun. When he’d heard it was Jameson, he’d had an adrenaline rush like he hadn’t had since playing football. He had wanted to track Rick down and tell him he’d changed his mind.

But now, the adrenaline was gone. Reality had set in. Regardless of what Bocephus had said, he was too old and sick to whip Jameson.

The cry of a bobcat rang out to the left, but Tom didn’t even turn his head. What use am I anymore? Below him, Musso let out a low guttural growl, but Tom didn’t pay him any mind. I did Rick a favor. The last thing he needs is a chemo-filled wash-up to babysit during his first trial. Even if I helped a little on the front end, I couldn’t stand up to a full- blown trial. Hell, I haven’t tried a case in forty years, and Jameson... is the best.

The bobcat’s cry rang out again. Regardless of what the Cock said, Tom reflected, Jameson is in his prime. He’s the best lawyer in the state. Rick at least gives Ruth Ann a fighting chance. He was just panicking this morning. That’s the only reason he asked me to try the case with him. When I didn’t give him an easy answer, he panicked. Come Monday, he’ll be fine. He’s trying the case in his backyard, and he’ll be fine.

Musso whined, and Tom looked down at him. In thirteen years, the only time he’d ever heard Musso whine was when the dog wanted to go out. “Musso, what’s...”

This time, the cry of the bobcat was more of a squeal and Tom turned around, searching out the sound. It was much closer than before. Behind him, Musso’s whine grew louder, but the dog had yet to move.

Instinctively, Tom reached down for his shotgun, but it wasn’t there. In his anger after learning about Jameson, he had forgotten to bring his gun or his cell phone. Tom felt his body tense.

“Where are you?” he yelled, hoping his voice might scare the animal off.

The high-pitched squeal he got in response sent a chill down his spine. Tom turned slowly in a circle, squinting, trying to focus...

There. Twenty yards away, crouching in some brush by the edge of the creek, he saw it. It had a black-speckled yellow coat, and its yellow eyes were looking straight at Tom. It had been years since Tom had actually seen a bobcat on the property. Usually, they stayed a fair distance away and all you heard was an occasional cry. As he had told Bocephus over and over, bobcats were harmless unless they were...

Tom saw the foam flying from the animal’s mouth and heard another blood-curdling squeal as it bared its teeth.

...rabid. He’s rabid and...

...I’m shit out of luck. Tom was two miles from the house without a gun or a phone. He took a step backwards, and instantly knew it was the wrong move. The bobcat lunged forward, heading straight for him. Tom only had a few seconds before it would be on top of him. Moving his body to the side, he put his left foot in front of his right and held his hands out, seeing the animal’s yellow eyes closing in on him.

I’m not strong enough, Tom thought. If he gets a hold of me... Taking another step back, Tom saw the yellow eyes of the bobcat veer to the left and then Tom was stumbling, having stepped on an uneven rock. Putting his hands up to protect himself, Tom waited for the moment that he’d see nothing but yellow as the bobcat pounced. It’s over, he thought.

But as Tom’s head cracked against something sharp, he didn’t see yellow.

All he saw was white.





50


“ALL RISE!” the bailiff bellowed. “THE HENSHAW COUNTY CIRCUIT COURT IS NOW IN SESSION, THE HONORABLE BUFORD CUTLER PRESIDING.”

Heart pounding in his chest, Rick stood as Judge Buford J. Cutler strode through the doors of his chambers and up to the bench. Rick had once heard his father describe the Judge as hard on crime and not real personable – the “J” a lot of folks referred to as “Jackass”.

“All right,” Cutler said, banging his gavel a couple of times. “Wilcox v. Willistone Trucking Company. Are the parties here?”

“Rick Drake for the plaintiff,” Rick said, trying to sound confident. Beside him stood Ruth Ann, dressed elegantly in an ankle-length black skirt and a white sweater top.