judge to issue a gag order on this so it doesn’t get leaked to the press or, God forbid, social media?” I asked my boss.
Jared nodded. “Or,” he said, turning to Evans, “I can have a friend on the inside cut out his tongue and snap his spine if he can’t be convinced not to run his mouth.”
At which point Walker Evans pissed himself.
It was satisfying to see someone who absolutely deserved it be so terrified.
The other video, the one of the horses, I had to look away from too. Hearing the beautiful animals scream was unbearable enough.
Evans explained to us that Sterling Madison had been out of money and made the poor choice of selling his thoroughbred champion’s stud rights to another breeder. At which point, because Sterling was insured, Sun King, the horse, was worth more money dead than alive. The day before the other breeder was supposed to collect on his first stud fee, Madison’s men tied the champion to a fence and crippled him, effectively ending his life.
Nick had been, Evans said, devastated when he found out what his father had done to the stallion, to the pride of his farm. When his father got away with it, and realized it was easy, he had done it again and again. That was horrible enough, but Nick was certain that if his father would do that to his meal ticket, he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt any horse in his stable. He would harm them just as he’d hurt his son.
I punched my hand through a wall in the living room instead of through Evans’s face, and I was fortunate that we were in a trailer instead of a house. The walls were thin, and I’d missed the studs. It still hurt like hell, but I didn’t break any fingers, so I was gonna call it a win.
Rais went to the kitchen and found a Ziploc and ice and a clean dishtowel, and wrapped up my hand, which was nice of him.
“Listen,” Jared told me. “We’ll put his father away for endangering a minor, neglect of a dependent, animal cruelty, and anything else we can throw at him.”
I nodded and made my way outside; it was all a bit much, and my desire to maim Walker Evans was visceral. I wanted to hurt him. Irreparably. I wanted to make him as lame as Sun King and the others.
“And now,” Jared said—I could hear him through the window—“tell me where the other copies are, Mr. Evans.”
He swore again that there were no copies, only the originals, and that there were no contingencies; this was the extent of his plans.
He had a four-terabyte solid-state drive that everything was stored on. That was it. One. Singular. And it was kept in a climate-controlled safe that he’d had made specifically to keep the drive in.
“We need to make certain you’re not lying, Mr. Evans,” Jared said, turning to him, drawing himself up to his full, towering height, muscles bulging, his face devoid of expression.
I was not surprised at all when the man fainted.
When he finally came to, Jared put him in the shower, had him wash and dress, and then we put Evans in the back of the Navigator with the three rescued dogs that growled at him, even with Cooper petting them, and we all drove to the airport.
They were flying directly to Lexington, and Jared would call the police detective he knew and get everything settled before they touched down. He was going to go ahead with all of it, except the extortion, which I would need to talk to Nick about.
“Thank you,” I said, looking at my boss.
“Of course,” Jared said, giving me a glimmer of a real smile and a pat on the shoulder that I wasn’t expecting.
Ella hugged me, as, surprisingly, did Cooper. Rais and I did the guy handshake. I told them all how much I appreciated them coming to help me.
“Always,” Cooper assured me.
It was very humbling that they cared.
Ten
On the plane ride home, I called Nick before I thought about it, and was pleased that it went straight to voicemail.
It was very early in the morning when I arrived back in Flagstaff, and even though we were a few minutes early, Croy was already waiting on the tarmac for me when I got off the plane. I had called him when I left Calexico, and he was surprised I was coming back so fast.
“It basically turned into a fugitive pickup,” I told him.
“Good,” he