Darkness at the Edge of Town (Iris Ballard #2)(57)
Oh, someone had investments in Viking Prison Dynamics. Hancock was momentarily stunned, trying to find an answer, but my wingman wings deployed instantly. “God, would that it were that easy, Simon,” I said pleasantly. “In the past ten years we’ve had a massive recession the people of Grey County will tell you they are still recovering from. With big conglomerates like Grey Consolidated no doubt sending jobs overseas to exploit cheap labor, people will do anything, anything, to put food in their children’s mouths, even resort to crime. And who can blame them?”
“So you support the drug trade?” Wilson asked.
“No, I just recognize the gray, pun intended, involved in the situation. Not to mention the DEA has had the full funding of the federal government for over forty years and they haven’t even put a dent in the drug trade,” I pointed out. “Because as even Captain Wilson can attest, you cut off one head, a new one will almost instantly grow to fill in the void. There is only so much one organization can do, especially now with ten years of tax cuts. Twenty years ago there were ten full-time and fifteen part-time deputies, and now there’s what? Two full-time and a handful of part-timers? I’m shocked the town hasn’t become some Mad Max wasteland.”
“Yes, but—” Wilson began.
“And don’t get me started on corporations taking advantage of these dire times. I just heard they’ve built a privately owned prison in Niagaraville. That is a disaster waiting to happen. Whenever you reduce human lives to a commodity, like this…Viking, is it?” I asked, smirking at Simon and Wilson, “the corporation will never be satisfied. You’re all businesspeople. You know a company has to show growth every year. Sure, they’ll have their plants in law enforcement round up all the lower-income citizens first, making a baggie of weed into a felony, but what happens the next year when they’ve cleaned up all the trash and still need to grow their bottom line? You, or God forbid your children, get pulled over for kids being kids and suddenly they’re the ones with a felony conviction locked away in prison. Their whole lives ruined because Viking’s CEO and investors needed to buy another Maserati.”
“That’s a bleak, unrealistic—” Wilson started.
“Wait,” I said, holding up a finger as I pretended to contemplate something. “I-I’m sorry, Captain Wilson, but isn’t your uncle a top executive at Viking?” I glanced at my captivated audience. “I don’t know about you, but that’s a little strange to me. It’s almost like voting for him is voting for a corporation, much like the ones that made it so difficult for all of you to grow your small businesses and plunged us into a recession. And it would also make me question if he would be looking out for his own best interests or all of yours. I don’t know, the whole situation just seems…downright evil. And as all of you know, I am quite good at recognizing evil when I see it. Just ask Jeremy Shepherd. Something to think about when you’re signing contribution checks.”
I wished to God I had a mic, because I would have dropped it right there and then as I smiled smugly at the glaring Simon and Wilson. Sam cleared his throat. “Well, uh, you certainly have given us something to think about.”
“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, nature calls.”
With a reverent nod to the group, and a squeeze to Hancock’s arm, I all but strutted away. I did actually have to use the bathroom. After I peed, I fixed myself up in the mirror, smug smile never wavering. After what happened at The Temple and with Mom and Gia, I definitely needed a win. That I’d helped an old friend was just a happy side effect. I was sure Wilson and Simon were spinning my statements for their own purposes, but I spoke the truth and had right on my side. It felt damn, damn good to score one for the good guys.
But where would us good guys be without our bad guys?
One such bad guy waited right outside the bathroom for me when I stepped out. The first words my father said to me in twenty years were, “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”
I was so taken aback by his mere presence I couldn’t think for a second. “I was…peeing.”
Elliot grimaced. “You. Always with the sarcasm.”
I hadn’t been sarcastic, but this exchange bought my mind a moment to escape my stupor. “You know, having a sense of humor is a sign of intelligence. Guess that means I’m just smarter than you are.” His grimace grew. God, is that what I look like when I grimace? I asked myself. I’ll have to curb that impulse. After this conversation. “Why do you think I’m here?”
“By the looks of it, to cause me trouble.”
I let out a laugh at that insanity. “Oh wow, Elliot. No wonder you’re not too intelligent. Your ego takes up too much space in your brain. I’m not here for you. I don’t give two shits about you. I’m here for my friend Sheriff Hancock. But if by me helping my friend wrecks your evening, then I am going to enjoy the added cherry on top of my sundae. Oh, and sending your son-in-law to fight your battles for you? Classy. Too afraid to take me on yourself?”
“Forgive me if I was a bit hesitant to provoke your ire. You have killed two men and blackmailed me without provocation. Not to mention how you treated my daughter today.”
“Yeah, your daughter started it, as she always does. Most insecure people do usually feel the need to pick fights. And of course, most studies show insecurity stems from neglectful, shitty parenting, most commonly from not having a strong fatherly role model growing up. As for the blackmail thing, it was twenty years ago. Get the fuck over it. And let’s not forget how your fancy lawyers got you out of paying a dime in child support all my life. What I did was justice. You owed me that money. Just like you owed my brother, Dad. You use the fact that I defended myself against two serial killers against me? Your own flesh and blood came to you for the first time in his life, begging on his hands and knees for you to help save his baby, and you literally slammed the door in his face. He just needed a few grand. That’s a golf weekend to you. You’re inhuman,” I spewed. “She had a miscarriage, Elliot. Your son had a breakdown and now might be in physical danger.”