Charm Me by Tawna Fenske

Author:Tawna Fenske [Fenske, Tawna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tawna Fenske

Chapter 9

Peter

I glance at my watch, conscious of the time. Conscious of the long drive awaiting me when I complete this task.

When a faint trail led to Southern Oregon, it seemed like fate. Fate, or whatever fate’s called in the hands of an asshole.

I know what Lucy said, and it’s sweet she believes it. That she truly thinks I’m not a worthless, ruthless son of a bitch.

But I know better. That’s what brings me to Medford, Oregon. Home of Carl Sine, a convicted felon who served six years for arson a decade ago. Three recent fires around Oregon bear Sine’s signature style, though no one’s been able to pin those on him. He’s crafty and slick and known to take odd jobs for the right price.

I wait until I’m an hour outside Medford to phone John Grant. Owen’s attorney stays silent as I bring him up to speed.

“This Sine guy—he’s a bad egg?” The attorney sounds hopeful. “Messed up in the head, maybe?”

“Perhaps.” That’s not my chief theory, but why split hairs? “If we can pin down Sine’s whereabouts at the time of the fire, it might give us a suspect.”

John’s pause leaves me wondering if we’ve dropped the call. “How deep are you digging?”

From a normal lawyer, I’d assume it’s a question of cost. Time is money, and no one likes paying for a wild goose chase.

But from John Grant, the question’s more nuanced. “How deep do you want me to dig?” I press when he doesn’t respond. “Leave no stone unturned in a quest for justice?”

He takes his time crafting an answer. “If you think this Sine guy might take the fall⁠—”

“If I think he’s the guy who tossed the match,” I interrupt, then wonder if I should have let him finish that sentence, “I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Do.” A tense pause tells me I’ve pressed a bruise. “I’d prefer you not speak with him at all.”

It’s the most damning thing he’s said so far. “You know something you’re not saying?”

“No.” There’s something deliberate in his pause. “Just that I only want you speaking with Sine if you’re certain the blame can fall squarely—and solely—on him.”

Can fall.

Not falls.

A subtle difference, but it’s one I don’t miss.

We’re treading on thin ice. “I’ve been careful with how I’ve tracked Sine down.” That’s not what’s concerning him, but I might as well state it. “The prosecution will never know he exists.” It’s such a wild hunch that they can’t possibly follow the breadcrumbs that led me here.

But my hunches have been right before.

John sighs. “There’s a financial matter we spoke of in our last meeting.”

It takes me a moment to catch his meaning. In his office last week, John stacked piles of cash on his desk. “If there’s a point where we need to pay someone to be forgetful,” he said as I stared at the money. “We’re prepared to do that.”

I said nothing but dragged two thick bundles across the desk. “I understand.”

And I understand better now, with John’s unspoken words buzzing through the phone line.

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