By the time he reached the canoe, he had formulated a new plan. It involved Crystal, and it was brilliant for so many reasons, all of them self-serving. Eager to implement the plan, he covered the remaining distance to the canoe with a gush of renewed energy.
Getting into the damn thing with only one functioning arm was going to be a challenge, and he wasn’t sure how to go about it. He was relieved to see that the paddle hadn’t fallen out when Foster had tipped the canoe and pulled him into the water.
The paddle was lying in the hull.
All by its lonesome.
The money bag was gone.
Chapter 33
Ledge backed his pickup off Hawkins’s property and out onto the road.
Dwayne hadn’t moved. He still lay spread-eagled in the dirt under the glare of the floodlights.
As Arden got her last look at him, she said, “You won’t really shoot him, will you?”
“I won’t have to.” He turned to her to make his point. “It’s enough that he believes I will.”
They’d gone only a short distance before Ledge placed a call to Don, who answered immediately. “Tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay.”
“Hawkins?”
“Sniffling, but unhurt and grateful to be alive. But listen, the lowlife has dozens of dogs penned up out here. The conditions are criminal. I expect him to clear out tonight and, more than likely, abandon them. It would be dangerous to release them. Do you know anybody who’s actively involved with the Humane Society or ASPCA?”
“Several people.”
“Report it. Hawkins will probably be long gone by the time officials get out here, but those animals need rescuing.”
“On it.”
“Thanks, Don. Later.”
“Hold it. Where are you? What are you doing?”
“Going home.”
“Watch your back. Hawkins has brothers, don’t forget.”
“He won’t breathe a word of this.”
“You’re sure?”
“Oh, yeah. I put a good scare into him.”
He clicked off.
The drizzle that had begun to speckle the windshield as they left Hawkins’s place had become a moderate rain. Lost in thought, Ledge hadn’t even noticed until Arden suggested he turn on the wipers.
“What are you thinking about, Ledge?”
“Rusty and what I’m going to do about him.”
“I’ve been wondering the same. His surveillance of me is creepy, but it’s not illegal. If he was made to answer for it, he would harken back to my father, and I don’t want that can of worms reopened.”
“Unavoidable, Arden.”
“I’m afraid you’re right.” She sighed. “Any questions raised about Brian Foster’s death will lead straight to Joe Maxwell.”
“You can count on Rusty to exploit that.”
“So we do nothing?”
“I’m thinking of taking it directly to the attorney general’s office.” He sensed the look of surprise she gave him, but he kept his eyes forward. “Rusty has got to be put out of commission, and it won’t happen on a local level.”
“That’s a big step, though. What about starting with another agency, outside the county?”
“Troopers, Texas Rangers? I’ve thought of that, of course. But they have their own cold cases. Foster’s death wasn’t officially deemed a murder. It wouldn’t have priority. By the time somebody got around to looking into it, Rusty would have covered his tracks. I can’t sit around and give him a chance to do that.”
He looked over at her, adding, “He must be feeling pressure, because he amped things up tonight. That wasn’t mischief, it was attempted murder. The time for fiddling around is passed.”
“My moving back really stirred things up, didn’t it?”
“I think you were the match that lit his fuse.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hell, don’t be. I’m not. For years, my fight with him has needed to come to a head. I’m glad it has.”
He came to a crossroads, braked, and looked over at her. “I’m not taking you to your house. You shouldn’t be out there alone. So back to Crystal’s for the night?”
“Do you still have that bottle of whiskey?”
He was at a crossroads in the figurative sense, too. Being alone with her in a place with multiple horizontal surfaces, he didn’t think he could resist the temptation to have her.
But his conscience wouldn’t allow him to touch her again until he told her that he was a thief as well as a liar.
“One drink.” He made a left turn onto the road that would lead to his house. A whiskey might make his confession go down a little smoother, but he seriously doubted it.
Dwayne lay there in the dirt, unmoving, until he could no longer hear Burnet’s truck, then he got up and ran into his house. Dyle could give you pause, but he was a lot of swagger and not