by Chloe Lang
Ashley walked down the jailhouse’s hallway. Nic and Sylas walked beside her. Sheriff Jason Wolfe was leading them to a room that had dual usage—sometimes to conduct interrogations, sometimes for prisoners to meet with their attorneys—but today there was a brand new usage for the space. The prisoner wanted to speak to her friend and victim.
Ashley had been shocked to hear that Anna had requested to meet with her. She’d thought about refusing or at least putting it off until later. Her bar exam was tomorrow and she and her guys were driving to Denver today. But she had been too curious to turn Anna down. What did the woman who had shot Henry, had pushed her way into the apartment, and had been working with Cindy Trollinger want to say?
I have to know.
Nic and Sylas had tried to convince her not to meet with Anna. She’d argued and argued with them to no avail and had begun to think they were right. But it was Sam O’Leary who had convinced the three of them that it might actually be a good idea. “A face-to-face with an attacker can have a very positive impact on a survivor when it is done with those who love and support her by her side.”
When the sheriff opened the door, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She took a deep breath and walked into the room.
Anna sat at a metal table in handcuffs beside her defense attorney, a man from Goodnight, the most westerly town in the county. “Against my advice, my client wants to speak with you, Ms. Vaughn.”
“That is good advice, counselor,” she said. “Too bad your client didn’t take it.”
The sheriff positioned himself by the door, but remained silent.
“I don’t care what he says, Ashley. I had to see you. Thank you so much for coming. I wasn’t sure you would.”
“I almost didn’t.” She took the middle seat on the other side of the table, and Nic and Sylas took the chairs next to hers. “What do you want from me, Anna?”
“I want you to know I’m sorry. Sorry for everything.” But the woman’s demeanor didn’t hold an ounce of sincere remorse or guilt for the horror she’d done.
“This is an act. You and I both know it. You’re going to be convicted. Stop trying to get your sentence reduced. You will find no sympathy from me.”
“It’s not like that, Ashley. We’re friends, you and I. Cindy Trollinger threatened me. She said if I didn’t do what she wanted that she would kill me. That’s the only reason I did what I did.”
She pounded her fists on the surface of the table. “What you did, Anna, was shoot Henry.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“That’s complete and utter BS. You know it, and I know it. And after you shot poor Henry, you meant to kill me.”
Anna’s act continued. “It’s not true. I swear it.”
“Nothing you say now or later will convince me otherwise. I was there. Remember? I saw and heard everything. You put a gun to my head and told me that I ruined your life and that I was going to pay.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand a whole bunch more than you give me credit for. What did Trollinger promise you? Why did she have you enter that virus into the law office’s computer?”
“Don’t answer those questions,” her attorney said.
“No. I don’t want to hold back anything. If this helps bring that bitch down, then I want to help. She only promised not to kill me.”
Ashley could tell that was a lie.
Anna continued. “But I know that she wanted Jennifer Steele’s ranch. She had gotten a man to pose as Walter Steele. Trollinger had access to confidential information that reported how much natural gas sits under the Steele Ranch. It’s worth hundreds of millions of dollars.”
It seemed that Anna was actually telling the truth to Ashley now. If accurate, Trollinger’s motive was clear. Greed. Anna’s claim connected Trollinger to the Steele Ranch case, but Ashley needed proof. Concrete proof. “What information? Where is it?”
“I don’t know. I swear. I saw it on her desk when we met.”
Once again, it seemed to her that Anna was telling the truth. “What about the imposter? Who is he?”
“I don’t know. I met him in Trollinger’s office. He had a thick Cajun accent.”
Cajun accent? Louisiana? Not Florida? That was important to remember. “What else?”
Anna shook her head. “That’s all I know, Ashley. If I knew anything else I would tell you.”
“You know more. That’s as obvious to me as it gets.” She leaned over the table. “And I bet Trollinger didn’t threaten you.”
Frowning, Anna squirmed in her chair. She was getting agitated.
“She promised to cut you in on all that money, didn’t she?”
“Shut up, Ashley.”
Ashley stood, and Nic and Sylas rose, staying protectively by her side. It gave her strength and courage to continue. “And you were stupid and believed her.”
“I said shut up.”
Anna’s attorney stood, clearly trying to get control of the room. “This meeting is over.”
“Fuck you, asshole,” Anna spat at him and then turned back to her. “You don’t know a goddamn thing, bitch.”
“We should leave,” Sylas said through clenched teeth while Nic glared at Anna.
Her attacker’s words had enraged both of them.
“It’s okay, guys,” Ashley told them as calmly as she could muster. “Just give me a minute.”
“Honey, I really think we should go,” Nic said. “She’s out of control.”
“There’s nothing she can do to me, and I still have things I need to say to her.”
“But we don’t want you to have to go through this, sweetheart,” Sylas said.
She touched him on the cheek and grabbed Nic’s hand. “It’s really okay. Sam was right about everything. I actually feel much better.” She turned back to Anna. “After you did Trollinger’s dirty work, she cut you loose. You were worthless to her. Just trash to set out to the curb.”
“I’ll kill you. I swear it.”
“No, you won’t, Anna. We’re not friends. You don’t have any friends.” Ashley walked to the door with her wonderful men, who were holding her hand, giving her their support. “I am going to testify for the prosecution on your case. I hope they throw away the key.”
Once they were in the hallway, the sheriff shut and locked the door, leaving the ranting Anna and her frustrated attorney behind.
“I’m so proud of you, baby.” Nic put his arm around her.
Sylas kissed her tenderly on the cheek. “You handled yourself so well.”
“She sure did.” Sheriff Wolfe smiled. “That was very impressive, Ashley. You’re going to make quite the lawyer.”
“Thanks, Jason.”
There was a loud buzzing sound.
The sheriff laughed. “I guess her attorney is ready to get away from Anna, too. Good luck with the bar. I’ll see you later. I need to put Anna back in her cell.”
When they walked out of the jailhouse, Ashley brought out her phone. “Guys, we have a lot of work to do on the Steele case.”
“We also have to get you to Denver, baby,” Nic said, opening her car door.
Sylas sat in the back and Nic got behind the wheel.
“I know, but we can make calls on the drive? Jennifer is depending on us. I’ve got to call Jena and let her know what we learned in there about Jennifer’s case. Sylas, you call Phoebe and tell her everything.”
Sylas nodded.
“Before we head down the road, I need to make a call, too.” Nic brought out his phone. “I know a geologist that will be able to tell us if Anna’s claim about the natural gas on the ranch is true.”
“That’s fantastic.” She realized how great it was going to be to work with Nic and Sylas at the law office. They were incredible attorneys.
“Hi, Ashley,” Jena’s voice came through her cell.
“Jena, I have some news about Walter Steele you need to hear. Anna just confirmed that he is an imposter. We need to be
searching records in Louisiana for him.”
Chapter Seventeen
Nic finished reading the information from the Energy Information Administration. His geologist friend was the one who discovered the two-year-old report that had been buried at the agency.
He and Sylas were sitting in a café in Denver across from the building where Ashley was finishing her bar exam. Sylas was on the phone with Jena, getting an update.
Nic looked at the time on his cell. Ashley would be walking into the café any minute. She’d been very pleased and confident after completing the first part of the test yesterday. He had no doubt she would feel the same way today.
Sylas ended his call with Jena.
“Sylas, take a look at this.” He turned his laptop on the café’s table so that Sylas could see his screen.
“Oh my God, Anna wasn’t lying. How much are the gas reserves valued at with today’s prices?”
“Five hundred to six hundred million. That definitely has to be Trollinger’s motive.”
“Be sure to let your geologist buddy know how much we appreciate him.”
“I owe him a bottle of scotch, but it was Jena and her husbands who discovered the Trollinger connection.”
“Maybe we should send them a couple of bottles, Nic.”
“Definitely. Without them we wouldn’t know that Trollinger paid off that EIA clerk to hide the Steele Ranch file.” The guy had been arrested but didn’t have any clue how to find Trollinger. “This improves our position with the case but we still need more. How’s Jena’s research with the Louisiana records going?”
“Walter Steele’s identity hasn’t been disproved yet, I’m afraid. She’s still digging, though. I’m sure she’ll find something.”
“None of this would be happening if it weren’t for our girl, Sylas.”
He nodded. “She is brilliant, that’s for sure. You know that we are going to have our hands full at Phase Four with her.”
“But there’s no one else I want my hands on, bro.”
“Me either. When’s your first lesson with Zac?”
“Tomorrow.” What he’d learned from Sylas and Ashley during the drive to Denver about the life intrigued and excited him. He couldn’t wait to get started on his training as a Dom. “If it weren’t for Mr. Jenkins, I would be leaving for Chicago tonight.”
“He’s a good man. Let’s send him a bottle, too.”
They had contacted Mr. Jenkins and told him what had happened to Ashley with Anna. When Nic offered to extend his notice another two weeks to allow Sylas to remain in Destiny with Ashley, Mr. Jenkins thanked both of them but declined the offer. In fact, he had insisted that they stay with Ashley. “I’ve never worked with finer men than the two of you. Forget your notice. Your last day at the office, gentlemen, was this past Friday, but I’ll make sure you are paid until the end of the month. Don’t worry about Braxton. We’ll be fine. You take care of Ms. Vaughn.”
“Here she comes.” Sylas motioned to the café’s entrance. “And with a big smile on her face.”
Nic stood and turned to the door.
She ran into his and Sylas’s arms. “I did it. I’m finished. And I think I nailed it.”
* * * *
Ashley took the cup of coffee from the new paralegal. “Thanks, Erin.”
Erin handed Jena a cup as well.
“I sure need this,” Jena said. “Thanks.”
She, Erin, and Jena had been working non-stop trying to find something, anything, that would prove the man claiming to be Walter Steele was an imposter. So far, nothing.
“I finished going through the stack of files you gave me this morning, Ms. Vaughn…I mean, Ashley.”
“You’ll get used to it, Erin. This office is very casual.” She liked Erin and knew the twenty-four year old was going to fit in perfectly. “Did you find anything that might help with the Steele Ranch case?”
“Sorry to say I didn’t. Nothing suspicious. Walter Steele has lived in Florida for over fifty years.”
“That fits the timeline when Bill’s brother left Destiny. What else?”
“He was a handyman in the town. He does have a record. Several counts of public intoxication and multiple DUIs. He hasn’t had a driver’s license in years. Before buying that condo a year ago, he lived at the Sleepy Moon Motel for fifteen years.”
“No way his story is true,” Jena said. “How the hell does a handyman who is only paid in cash and has never filed a tax return save enough cash to buy a two-hundred-thousand-dollar condo? The only answer that makes any sense is Cindy Trollinger gave him the cash.”
“But we don’t have any proof. What else, Erin?”
“Prior to that, Mr. Steele rented a room from a man who has since died. I called the manager at the motel. He corroborated Mr. Steele’s story. I also got in touch with people Mr. Steele has worked for. Mrs. Emily Cotton told me that Mr. Steele has been doing work for her family since the 1970s. He’s never claimed to be anyone but Walter Steele.”
“And of course her family paid him in cash like everyone else, right?”
“Yes, Ashley,” Erin said. “That’s what Mrs. Cotton told me.”
“No tax records with a social security number to check. No wonder he hasn’t ever filed an income tax return.”
“We can turn this over to the IRS, but it won’t help with our case, will it?” Jena asked.
“No. Damn. I really can’t understand this.” Ashley’s frustration continued to build. “I don’t buy it. The only records on a fifty-eight-year-old man are a birth certificate, some real estate papers, and a property tax filing.”
“Maybe Anna was lying,” Jena said. “I’ve scoured the records in Louisiana, and haven’t found anything to help us.”
“We should have found something on the man by now.” Ashley closed her eyes, recalling what Anna had said.
He had a thick Cajun accent. What are we missing?
“All we can do is keep digging. Something has to surface we can use.” Ashley sent a text to Phoebe, who was currently in court on another case, about the little they’d uncovered.
She was surprised when a text came back.
In recess for the rest of the day on this one. I’m on my way back to the office. Ash, we need more. Keep digging.
Will do. And when Nic and Sylas get back from their lesson at Phase Four, I’ll put them on the search with Jena and me. We need all hands on deck on this one, Phoebe.
They didn’t have much time. Jennifer’s hearing was set for next week.
Chapter Eighteen
Sylas sat next to Phoebe in the Swanson County Courthouse. Nic sat on the other side of him. Their client, Jennifer Steele, was in the chair next to Nic.
Mrs. Cotton was on the stand and one of the plaintiff’s attorneys was questioning her.
Walter Steele, or the man claiming to be Walter Steele, sat with his other high-dollar attorneys at the opposing counsel’s desk.
Things weren’t looking good for Jennifer, despite the endless hours of research. He and Nic hadn’t had much alone time with Ashley since the move to Destiny. This case had demanded most of their focus. Except for the few hours of training he and Nic had gone through at Phase Four with Zac, every other waking hour had been spent searching thousands of records in the hopes of finding the needle in the haystack. But the elusive needle hadn’t been found.
Ashley and Jena were at this very moment at the law office on their laptops. They were working feverishly in a last-ditch effort to find something that would help Jennifer. But time was running out.
Sylas loved Ashley’s never-give-up attitude. They had checked every record possible in Louisiana and Florida. What else could there be?
“Mrs. Cotton, could you point out for the court the man you know as Walter Steele?”
“I certainly can.” Mrs. Cotton was seventy-three and had a warm smile. She pointed at the imposter. “That’s Walter Steele.”
“Please let the record show that Mrs. Cotton identified the plaint
iff as Walter Steele,” the lawyer said.
“He certainly is Walter,” the woman continued. “He’s worked for me and my family for years. One of the finest men I know.”
“Just answer the question, Mrs. Cotton.” Wearing her judge’s robe, Ethel presided over the court with a firm hand.
“Thank you, Mrs. Cotton. Your witness.” Walter Steele’s attorney took his seat.
Phoebe rose from her chair and came around the table. “Mrs. Cotton, did Mr. Steele have a nickname?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but my late husband did call him ‘Walt.’ “
“Do you know Mr. Steele’s middle name?”
“I don’t.”
Things were looking really bad for their case.
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
* * * *
Staring at her laptop’s screen, Ashley felt every tick of the clock. They were running out of time.
“Anything?” Jena was also typing away on her own laptop.
“No. Damn. What are we missing?”
“I wish I knew, Ashley. The only thing we’ve got is Anna said he had a Cajun accent. But you’ve seen the recorded deposition. He doesn’t have one now.”
Cajun accent. That’s the key.
Ashley typed in “Cajun accent” in her browser. The pages brought up were a Wikipedia article and some YouTube videos. Nothing helpful. She clicked on the Wikipedia article. There was a map of Louisiana on the right side of the page with the counties highlighted where the dialect was spoken the most. But she and Jena had checked those counties and all the other counties in the state.
What are we missing?
She looked at the map again.
A text came in from Nic. Walter Steele is taking the stand now.
“Damn it.” She told Jena Nic’s message.
“I’m sorry, Ashley. I wish we could have found something.”
“Wait.” She looked at the map of Louisiana on her screen. “That’s got to be it.” She typed a new search into her browser. Where can the Cajun accent be heard?
The page that appeared was an article by a professor of linguistics at Tulane titled “The Geography of the Cajun Accent.”
