Rich Blood (Jason Rich #1)(37)

Burns sipped his beer. “No shame in that. I followed my old man into the car business. So I have to ask, Why didn’t you take over the family practice?”

“That’s . . . kind of a long story,” Jason said, not wanting to get into it, staring at the beer can still in his hand.

Burns looked out at the lake. “Guessed it must’ve worked out for you. Based on your billboards, I’d say you’re making a killing.”

Jason continued to examine the beer, running his finger over the opening. “We’re doing OK.”

For a few seconds, neither man spoke, and Burns drank his beer. “Do y’all still own the place out at Mill Creek?”

“As far as I know,” Jason said, scratching the back of his neck and looking again at the beer can, wanting so badly to open it. “Jana would have needed to get my approval to sell.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure what’s happened to the house. I think Jana was going to try to rent it out.”

Burns took another long sip of beer and began to amble down toward the dock.

“Are you sure it’s OK—?” But Jason cut himself off when it was obvious the other man wasn’t going to stop.

“If it’s like everything else in Jana’s life, I suspect your Mill Creek house is a disaster.”

“Tell me,” Jason said, peering at the approaching boathouse and then back to Burns.

“She and Braxton were having problems, I know that. Jana had gotten into drugs, and she owed quite a bit of money to credit card companies . . . and her drug supplier.”

“Tyson Cade,” Jason said, and Burns looked at him.

“You know Cade?”

“By reputation only.”

“Well, his rep is well earned. He’s the last person you want to get messed up with, but you know your sister. She’d find trouble in a house full of nuns.”

Burns stopped at the edge of the water. “Why are you back in town, Jason?”

“I would have thought it was obvious,” Jason said, feeling defensive. “My brother-in-law’s been murdered. My sister’s in jail. I wanted to check on my nieces and see Jana.”

Burns took another sip of beer. “You sure waited long enough.”

Jason gazed at the untouched beer. “I was unavoidably detained,” he said.

“Right,” Burns said.

“I was in rehab for three months without access to my phone. I found out about the murder and Jana’s arrest yesterday, and I came as soon as I could.”

“Rehab, huh?” Burns asked, looking at the can of beer. “For alcohol? Drugs?” He hesitated. “Sex? Gambling?”

“Alcohol,” Jason said.

Burns made a “give me” gesture with his free hand. “Here, you don’t need that, then.” Jason handed the beer over, then watched as Burns downed the rest of his can and crushed it. “Rumor on the street is that you came to town to be Jana’s lawyer. That true?”

Jason scanned past the boathouse to the dark water. “I came back primarily to see my family. But yes, I’m considering taking the case.” He glanced at Burns. “Did the police ever talk with you?”

“Oh, yeah. Several times. At first, I think Nola thought Braxton might be with me. We played a lot of golf together and would go on Jet Ski rides and fishing excursions all the time.”

“Had you seen him on the Fourth?”

Burns popped open the beer that Jason had given him and took a long drink. “Nah. We had a huge sale at the dealership. I was there until ten p.m. With the kids and Shandra gone, I didn’t want to be home. When we closed the lot, I went down to the Brick and had a couple rounds with some of my salespeople. I got home after midnight but was up early the next morning to go fishing. I was on my dock when I heard all the police sirens.” He tipped the can back. “It was crazy.”

“I bet,” Jason said.

“Listen,” Burns said, finishing off the can and crushing it just as he’d done with the last one. “If you’re seriously considering representing Jana . . . which I think would be crazy as hell . . . then there are some things you need to know.”

“What things?”

“You hungry?”

Jason wasn’t, but he decided to be agreeable. “Starved.”

“Good. Come on.” He started back toward the house.

Jason followed. He couldn’t resist pushing the man a little. “What things?” he repeated.

Burns opened the door and looked at Jason. His eyes, while red, were sharp. “Waylon Pike,” he said.





28


They went to the restaurant in Burns’s twenty-four-foot Mastercraft runabout, which Jason had ridden in before during happier times. The boat was still in excellent shape, and despite his hesitancy at riding in anything motorized with Burns given the man’s heavy alcohol consumption, Jason had to admit that he enjoyed the trip down memory lane. Burns never stopped talking and took on the role of tour guide, pointing out the different landmarks along the way. These included the mansions on Signal Point Drive, which, according to Burns, were “nice but not quite up to Buck Island”; the Wayne Farms Chicken and Feed Plant, which was on the corner of Highway 227 and Signal Point and gave off a strong aroma that reached their boat as they passed by; the Paul Stockton Causeway on the right and Wyeth Drive on the left. And, then finally, Top O’ the River sitting perched on a hill on Val Monte Drive.