Rich Blood (Jason Rich #1)(61)
He’d been operating under the theory that Jana paid Tyson Cade $15,000 the night of the murder for cocaine because that’s what Jana had told him.
But what if she’s lying? What if she only paid Cade a few hundred bucks and bought herself some time with her body? Jason smelled the bottle but didn’t drink.
What if she gave the fifteen grand to Waylon Pike?
The phone rang. He glanced at the screen on his Bluetooth radio and saw that it was Harry. He set the pint down in the cup holder and pushed the knob to answer the call.
“Yeah,” he said, hearing the anxiety in his voice.
“J. R., it’s me.”
“You find Cowan’s dad?”
“Yeah, boss. He’s working a strip mall job on Highway 30A near Water Sound.”
“And?”
“No insurance policy. He sends a few hundred dollars to Trey from time to time, but that’s it.”
“What was he like?”
“A drunk. Had a case of beer in a cooler in the back of his truck and drank three cans of Coors Light while we talked.”
“Did he say anything about the mother?”
“Just that Trey’s accident was the end for them. They’d put everything into his career. Every dime they had for football camps and travel ball and lessons. And they missed the big payoff. And I quote, ‘All because Braxton Waters was too busy screwing his CRNA to pay attention to my son at the hospital.’”
“He said that.”
“His exact words.”
“Well, the Cowans all have motive,” Jason said, his voice weak.
“But none of them have a pot to piss in. No way they could have cobbled together fifteen grand in cash.”
“Yeah, I get it. Thanks for tracking him down.”
“You all right, J. R.? You sound . . . off,” Harry said.
Jason glanced at the pint of whiskey and the six-pack. “No, I’m fine.”
“How’d the reprimand go?”
“It sucked,” he said. “And I had another run-in with Tyson Cade.”
“In Montgomery? How? Didn’t you have security?”
“No.”
“What?”
“I didn’t think there was any way he’d follow me to Montgomery, so I asked the guards to stay at home with Nola and in Birmingham with Niecy.” Jason again glanced at the whiskey. “Cade must have tailed me down here, or maybe he had someone verify where I’d be. The guy does his research.”
“What did he want?”
“Money. Fifty grand. He says Jana didn’t pay him the 15K on the night of the murder. He’s noticed all I’ve spent on security and wants me to make him whole.”
There was silence on the other end of the line and then a long whistle. “Jesus. What are you going to do? If you pay him now, he’s not going to stop.”
“What choice do I have? If I don’t pay him, he may hurt my nieces.”
“That’s why you’ve spent all that dough on security. If you’d brought some for yourself today, then maybe Cade wouldn’t have gotten so close to you.”
Jason looked to his right and saw one of his billboards in the distance. He glared at his grinning mug as he passed. “Let’s face it, Harry. I can pay for all the security in the world. But if I cross this guy, he’s going to eventually kill me or hurt or kill someone I love.”
Harry didn’t respond, and Jason knew it was an implied concession.
“I’ve got to go,” he said.
“You OK, boss?”
Jason hung up without answering. As he passed another billboard advising any passerby to call 1-800 GET RICH, he grabbed the pint and again pressed it to his lips.
This time, he turned it up and took a long swig, wincing as the brown liquid burned his throat. He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid.
“Jana’s lying,” he whispered, taking another sip of Jack Daniel’s.
About the money . . . about her relationship with Pike . . .
. . . about everything.
46
He woke up with the glare of the rising sun in his face and the sound of an angry woman’s voice.
“Get up, shitbird.”
Jason turned toward the sound just in time to see a bucket of water being hurled at him.
Drenched, he shot to his feet, which sent a wave of nausea through his body that made him bend over and clutch his knees. “Damnit, Chase. What the hell are you doing?”
“You tell me, drunko! Spending the night in your court clothes on the dock with an empty bottle of Jack and a half-drunk carton of beer,” she yelled. She wore a white tank top, shorts, and a baseball cap, appearing to have just come in from her morning kayak ride. “I ought to push you in the lake.”
“Well, you’ve already ruined my suit.”
“Are you kidding? Even with the lake on you, you reek of bourbon and beer. You smell like a damn brewery.” She put her hands on her hips. “You didn’t fall off the wagon. You jumped.”
Jason took in a deep breath, tried to straighten up, and then bent over again. Finally, unable to control his stomach, he dropped to his knees and hung his head over the edge of the dock, puking into the water.
“Good grief, Jason,” she said.