Deborah knew none of that background. All she knew was her boss had a knack for picking up a lot of truck crash settlements and lawsuits.
Named in the lawsuit as defendants was everyone who had any connection with the truck involved in the crash. Hugh Mann, of course, was named as the owner of the truck, but also Western America Trucking, Inc., the carrier he was contracted with, and Freightliner Trucks, a division of Daimler Trucks North America LLC.
Fishburn had also reached out to name as a defendant the repair facility at the Spokane Freightliner dealership where the driver’s truck had been taken for repairs shortly after the last hijacking attempt.
He’d had his office staff compile a thick folder of documents about the truck driver’s past history of violence, all entered as exhibits in the massive complaint.
Damages claimed in the lawsuit included the plaintiff husband’s loss of his wife, and their two children, but also included loss of her future income, and his mental anguish because of the horrific result of the fiery crash. He’d never be able to recover from the trauma of having to try to identify the charred body of his wife who was burned beyond recognition, etc., etc.
Fishburn still held out hope the trucker’s carrier would decide to avoid a costly, lengthy trial and agree to settle. He realized the truck driver’s reputation for saving the Idaho State Police trooper’s life was problematic; but the attorney had his ringer – the investigative reporter who was currently embedded with the trucker.
The attorney believed her testimony damaging the trucker’s reputation during the deposition phase would scuttle the carrier’s defense of their golden boy. Failing that, although Frank Rico had assured him it wouldn’t fail, the attorney had a backup plan to encourage the trucker to admit fault for the crash. Another kidnap job for Frank Rico’s men. This one for real.
The attorney dismissed Deborah from his office, then dialed the number for Rico Investigations.
“Frank here,” Frank said, once his receptionist had patched Fishburn’s call through to his desk phone.
“Hey, Frank. I’m finalizing the lawsuit complaint against the trucker and his carrier. I want to make sure we’re still good with the reporter we put in with him.”
“As far as I know, we are.”
“Have your guys heard from her yet? Anything good on the trucker?”
“She’s checked in with William. Said she’s with the guy. Nothing to report.”
“OK. Thanks.”
Fishburn didn’t cradle his handset. He disconnected the call, then immediately dialed Joe’s cell phone number. Joe had finished his part in making the crash happen, but the attorney wanted to keep tabs on him. He wanted to be sure Joe wouldn’t go renegade.
“Joe,” the attorney said when Joe answered. “Anything to report?”
“No, boss. I don’t think the car I torched out in the desert has been found yet. The longer it sits out there, the more it will look like an abandoned wreck torched by partying teens.”
“Any other loose ends I need to know about?”
“Now that you mention it, there might be one.”
“Go ahead.”
“My guy, the one whose girlfriend works at the WestAm dispatch office, says somebody has been poking around trying to get his girlfriend to give up my guy’s name.”
“That could be a problem, Joe, if she gives up his name and they question him. How solid is he.”
“Not very. He’s at the real low end of the pay scale, if you know what I mean. He doesn’t have much incentive to keep from blabbing names.”
“Surely you haven’t given him your full name.”
“Well, boss …”
“Tell me you didn’t.”
“I didn’t. But he has been to my house. He knows where I live.”
“What other dumbshit thing have you done? Does he know about me?”
“Maybe a little bit.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It might have come out in conversation that I work for this big-shot Scottsdale lawyer who specializes in trucking lawsuits.”
“You get with your guy. You do whatever it takes to make sure he doesn’t decide to go stool pigeon on us. Whatever it takes!”
“Got it, boss.”
Fishburn immediately redialed the number for Rico Investigations.
“Frank. We’ve got a situation.”
He told Frank about his conversation with Joe.
“You might need to have your crew do something on the side for me.”
“No problem, Bill. Keep me informed.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“James, do you know where you’re going to be in the next day or so?” Hugh was on his Bluetooth.
“Yeah, buddy. Why?”
“Charlie and I have been talking, and we’ve come up with a plan.”
“Lay it on me.”
“She said you guys had talked about her coming aboard with you for a while. That actually makes sense, so if you still agree to do it, we could hook up somewhere.”
“I’m unloading in Southern California first thing in the morning, then I’ll be pushing north as soon as I pick up my next load.”
“How far north?”
“Hermiston. I’ll park at Corning tomorrow night.”
Hugh knew that by Corning James meant the large Indian casino about fifty miles south of Redding. It had great truck parking, showers, a barber shop, a beauty salon, a hotel, restaurants, and a world-class buffet for a reasonable price.
“OK, that could work. Text me your pre-load info, and I’ll see if I can get a load out of Portland tomorrow that can hook us up.”
Next, Hugh pushed the top button on his Bluetooth. “Call Jenny.”
“Hey, honey. How’s it going?” she answered immediately. It sure sounded good to hear her voice.
“Going good. Something’s come up, Jenny.”
“What is it?”
“How quickly do you think you can make it over to Portland to join me in my truck?”
“I can leave as soon as I can arrange a ride. Why?”
“Charlie is going to begin riding with James, and I
