The Whistler (The Whistler #1)(72)

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Throughout the two-and-a-half-hour drive to the prison, Lacy’s thoughts were on Hugo. Less than two months earlier, they had made this trip together, both sleep deprived and slugging coffee to stay awake. They had discussed their distrust of Greg Myers and their reluctance to indulge his theory of a grand conspiracy. They had admitted the sense of danger they felt.

They had been so naive.

She entered Bradford County and followed the signs to Starke, then to the prison. It took half an hour to make her way to Q Wing. It was noon Monday, and no other attorneys were there. She waited in a small conference room for fifteen minutes until Junior appeared in chains. His guards unshackled him and he took his seat on the other side of the plastic wall. He took his receiver, smiled, said, “Thanks for coming.”

“Hello, Junior. It’s good to see you again.”

“You look good, Lacy, in spite of what happened. I trust your injuries are healing.”

“Well, my hair is growing and that’s all that matters.”

He chuckled at this. He was more animated, more eager to talk. Lacy assumed he was awaiting the arrival of his D.C. lawyers with great anticipation. For the first time in many years, there was hope.

“I’m sorry about your friend Hugo,” he said. “I liked him.”

“Thanks.” She really didn’t want to talk about Hugo, but with plenty of time to kill they could chat about anything. She said his family was coping and trying to get by, but the days were long and difficult. He wanted to know about the accident, how and when it happened and what had been learned since then. He doubted it was really an accident and she assured him it was not. He was curious as to why no one “from the outside” had stepped in to investigate Hugo’s death. Careful with her words, she explained that, hopefully, things were moving in that direction. They talked about Wilton, Todd Short, the D.C. lawyers, and a little of life on death row.

After a long pause, one of many, he said, “I had a visitor yesterday, one that was not at all expected.”

“Who was it?”

“A man named Lyman Gritt. Heard of him?”

“Yes, we’ve actually met, though I don’t remember. I’m told he was with the rescue team that worked the accident and got me to the hospital. I stopped by his office to say hello and thanks, but he seems to have been replaced. The timing looks suspicious.”

Junior smiled and leaned closer. “It’s all suspicious, Lacy. Wheels are turning and you’d best be careful.”

She shrugged. Keep talking.

He said, “Gritt’s a good man. He was in favor of the casino, so we were on opposite sides long ago. But we have a history. My father and his uncle were raised together in a shack just off the reservation. They were like brothers. I can’t say the families are close now, because we fought over the casino. But Gritt has a conscience and he knows about the corruption. He never liked the Chief; now he really despises him and his family. The Chief’s son is now the constable, so any investigation into your accident will go nowhere. It’s all being covered up, as I’m sure you suspect. But Gritt knows the truth, and he thinks he has the evidence to prove it. That’s why he wants to talk to you.”

“To me?”

“That’s right. He thinks he can trust you. He doesn’t trust the local boys in Brunswick County, not that they would get involved. As you’ve probably learned, our tribe is wary of outsiders, especially those with badges. But Gritt has some evidence.”

“What kind of evidence?”

“He didn’t say, or wouldn’t say. These walls have been known to hear too much, so we were cautious. You need to understand, Lacy, that Gritt is being threatened. He has a wife and three kids, and the Chief and his pals can be effectively intimidating. The entire tribe lives under a cloud of fear and people just don’t talk. Plus, with the casino life is better these days, so why rock the boat?”

Lacy had serious doubts about the prison authorities eavesdropping on conversations between attorneys and their death row clients, but then she realized that the meeting with Gritt took place in another part of Q Wing. Gritt was not a lawyer.

“What makes him think he can trust me? We’ve never met.”

“Because you’re not a cop and you’re the first person to set foot on the reservation and ask questions. You and Mr. Hatch.”

“Okay. How am I supposed to meet with Gritt?”

“Wilton will facilitate it.”

“So who makes the next move?”

“Gritt and I agreed that I’ll contact Wilton and he’ll arrange things. That is, if you’re willing to talk to him.”

“Of course I’m willing to talk.”

“Then I’ll get word to Wilton. Needless to say, Lacy, this has to be handled as delicately as possible. Everyone is scared. They’re watching Gritt, and probably Wilton too.”

“Do they, whoever they might be, know that Todd Short is back in town?”

“I don’t think so. My lawyers met with Short this morning, somewhere far away from the reservation. If he follows through with his promise to recant his testimony, it won’t be long before everyone knows it. At that point, he’ll be a marked man.”

“They can’t keep killing people, Junior.”

“They killed your buddy Mr. Hatch. And Son and Eileen. And they probably took care of Digger Robles, the other snitch, may he rest in peace.”