Page 43 of Bait and Switch
Slowly inhaling through his nose, Casey held the oxygen for a moment, rolled his shoulders, and blew the breath out.
“Your son stopped by the marina, Sunday a week ago. I didn’t recognize him, didn’t know who he was, and he just identified himself as Peter, nothing else. He asked about Gabe, Gabe wasn’t there, so I sent him on his way. That was it.”
“Nothing else?”
“Nope.” The pop on thePwas final. Extra final. It was clear to Gabe that Casey had nothing else to say. “I need to go. Two hikers are still missing.” He turned to Elton. “Can Bowie hang here, or should I drop him at Greta’s? Not sure when I’ll be back.”
“He can stay. Bowie is always welcome. If you’re late, I have some kibble for him.”
Casey left without saying goodbye, the door slamming behind him with calculated finality. John Stevens wasn’t receiving forgiveness or anything close to it today—or maybe any day—not from Casey.
“Why did you come here, John?” Elton asked, breaking the silence once they heard Casey’s Jeep start up and the crack of gravel under his tires. “What did you mean, you’d been a fool? Because you didn’t accept your son for who he was, or something more? Not sure there’s anything worse than not being accepted by your parent.”
This time it was Gabe who winced. Elton wasn’t pulling any punches either. There was other history Gabe was ignorant of, and he had the feeling whatever it was, it was going to be a lot.
“There’s always something more, Cox,” Stevens said quietly. “A long time ago I wanted something and made a deal with the devil. I was young and arrogant, didn’t see what I’d agreed to as inherently wrong.”
“What did you do, John?”
“At first, not much. And it stayed low-key for years. But the agreement did bring me connections. In exchange, I guess, I was invited to be part of… various groups that had money or the means to get it.”
“And?”
“And?” He looked away from Elton, staring out the front window or perhaps at nothing at all. “As Twana County Prosecuting Attorney, I… sometimes looked the other way. Not often. I did have a reputation as a tough-on-crime prosecutor, after all.”
Gabe snorted. He could see what was coming a mile away. This may have been a long con, a long bait before the switch, but John Stevens had been conned. And by the time he realized he was a mark, it was too late. They—whoever they were, although Gabe had a pretty damn good idea—had enough to destroy Stevens, so he’d been theirs to control.
“Classic,” Gabe muttered, recalling what he’d heard so far about Casey’s older brother. “Let me guess. After you’d looked the other way enough times, they threatened to expose you if you didn’t cooperate when Mickie Lundin was arrested. And they wanted him charged with murder.”
Remorse with a heavy splash of guilt flitted across the old prosecutor’s face. That was all Gabe needed.
“Mickie Lundin wasn’t the first or only innocent person who got the shaft, was he? Who else has suffered from your particular brand of justice?” He shifted so that he was standing directly in front of Stevens, effectively blocking his view of the window. “I never bartered human lives for money. I’ve conned people all my life, I won’t deny it. But my soul is my own. People like you disgust me. Are you trying to get some kind of absolution from Elton? You’ll never get it from Casey. Just a guess here, but I’d bet my go-bags that putting Mickie Lundin behind bars for acrime he didn’t commit destroyed a family and several lives. And what did you get in return?”
Stevens stared up at him.
“There’s something else,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“More? Worse than what you’ve already confessed to?” Gabe crossed his arms over his chest and wrinkled his nose at the guy like he was a bug. “For fuck’s sake, how fucked up can a fuckup fuck?”
The man winced. Gabe was just going to assume it was a pretty major fuckup.
“I did see Peter last week, briefly.” Again, he didn’t appear to be seeing Gabe or Elton as he spoke. Maybe he was looking to his past, wishing for something different. “He showed up at the house. I was in my office looking over some paperwork.”
“I take it you didn’t have the joyous reunion you’d imagined. Not a shocker, seeing as you kicked him out. Peter never was good at forgiveness. I see where he got it from.”
Stevens narrowed his gaze at Gabe before continuing. Gabe ignored it; that stare was child’s play.
“He got a look at some documents I was working on. I’m a paper-and-pen man, too old to trust everything to computers.” His laugh was weak, self-mocking.
“Did he figure out what you’d been doing all these years?” Gabe asked.
“No, nothing like that. He thought he might be interested in investing in a project, getting involved. We talked for a while, buried the hatchet so to speak, and decided it might not be a bad idea to have more than one pair of eyes on it.”
“And?” Elton asked.
Stevens shook his head. “And? He left. Said he’d be in touch with me soon. A week later, the sheriff was calling to say that Peter had been found dead.”
“You don’t know where he was last week? He didn’t tell you anything?” That wouldn’t surprise Gabe, Peter had liked to keep his movements during a con under wraps. “Why are you here? How do you think Elton can help you?”
