It's Never too Late - By Tara Taylor Quinn Page 0,36
on with his daily activities as though nothing is wrong. The less guilty he acts, the less confident his accuser will be. And the less chance they’ll have some questionable behavior to report as evidence against him in court.”
Nodding, Greg said, “I’ll pass that on to him.”
“And in the meantime, I keep looking. The first thing to do after receiving a hint of a threat is to get legal counsel. He’s done that, albeit unofficially. The most we can do at this point is to be prepared.”
“And find whoever the hell is behind this. That’s my job.”
“That, too. Because whoever this is, is now a criminal,” Addy said. “It’s officially become blackmail since the mention of money is actually attached to the threat.”
“I don’t expect it to end there, do you?”
Addy was naturally mistrusting. She knew that. It made her good at her job—kept her mind open to assessing both sides, always. She had to be able to jump into her opponent’s mind-set if she was going to beat him.
And to see the facts clearly in order to ascertain if her client was guilty. She could only defend those she truly believed were innocent.
“Adrianna?” The sheriff shifted his weight on the edge of her car as a truck drove by, showering them with a burst of dusty air.
“If whoever is behind this has no real basis for the threats,” he continued, “if Will is completely innocent, then I would expect the ultimate goal here would be money. It’s no secret the Parsonses are a wealthy family.”
“And Will’s stellar reputation can work against him. Anyone who knows him knows that he’d sacrifice himself, or pay any price, to protect those he loves. Those he considers his own. He considers every single student at Montford one of his own.”
“My theory is that whoever is behind this knows Will personally, or at least has personal knowledge of him. This probably isn’t someone from somewhere else who tried to get into Montford and didn’t make it and was left with sour grapes.”
“I agree, in theory. At this point the vendetta appears to be personal as opposed to something being enacted by a stranger just looking for a way in to the Parsons fortune. I’m assuming there were no fingerprints on the third letter, either?”
“One. It wasn’t in any database.”
Arizona’s vibrant afternoon sun was behind them. Addy longed for its warmth.
“Have you looked into the possibility that someone is vying for Will’s job? Is there someone who would be next in line? Someone with a grudge who would use Will’s goodness against him to get him to step down, leaving an opening for his job?”
“We’ve talked about that. I’ve done some quiet checking. We can’t rule anything out at this point, but I’m not finding any likely candidates to fit that scenario.”
“So the most obvious conclusions are that either someone is out for money...or Will did something that someone really believes was wrong, and this person is looking for justice in the form of monetary compensation.”
“Wouldn’t you think, if there was some real incident or incidents attached to this that the letter writer would give some indication as to the actual alleged wrongdoing?”
“Possibly. Unless whoever we’re dealing with has more than a layperson’s knowledge of the law. He’s being very careful not to reveal his evidence, thus not allowing Will to build any kind of defense against the charges, either physically or emotionally. It’s the strategy I would recommend, though not for purposes of blackmail, of course. If this guy is really intending to press charges, the less he says at this point, the better. Of course, if he’s intending to press charges, he’s making a grave error with this blackmail attempt.”
“We knew we were dealing with someone making a grave error the moment the first letter arrived,” Greg said, straightening. A black town car passed and he watched it drive all the way down the road.
“You know them?” Addy asked.
“No. Which is why I’m watching them.” Greg grinned. “I want to know when I’ve got a stranger in town.”
“Because of the threats against Will?”
“Because I take my job to protect the people of Shelter Valley very seriously. Don’t get me wrong, we welcome strangers. With open arms and open doors. Ask my wife, Beth, about that. Or any number of our other citizens. We just like to know who’s in our midst.”
Had Greg known the fire marshal who’d covered up her dad’s hideous crime? Not that making what he’d done public would have brought