town.”
“Would that include you?” Ben asked pointedly.
Allen shook his head. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea about me. I don’t bear any grudge against these Green Rage people-as long as they don’t break the law. I think everyone’s entitled to speak their mind. That’s what this country is all about.”
“You’re saying you don’t favor one side over the other.”
“The only thing I favor is peace,” Allen said with conviction. “All I want is for this unrest and unhappiness to go away.” He fingered the brim of his hat. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure your friend Al was safe while he recuperates.”
“I appreciate that,” Tess said. “Thank you.” She turned and started for the door. The instant she opened it, a man stumbled through, collapsing into her arms.
Tess took a step back, trying to brace herself and to keep the man from slipping to the floor.
“Loving!” Ben raced forward, taking one arm and helping lead him over to the chair.
It was Loving all right, but he was not the stalwart tower of a man he usually seemed. His whole posture was hunched and bent. His T-shirt and jeans were smudged and grimy. Blood was caked around his mouth.
Christina threw her arm around him. “Are you all right? What happened?”
Loving opened his mouth several seconds before he actually spoke. Ben could tell he was having trouble making the words emerge. “I’m … not … sure.
Christina ran her hands over his face, his head. “Someone hit you. Who was it?”
Loving slowly shook his head. “Don’t … know that, either.”
Eventually Loving pulled himself together enough to tell them the story of the night before. How he had followed the man with the scar out of Bunyan’s. How he had lost him, chased after him. How he had been clubbed from behind. Repeatedly.
“Guess they figured they couldn’t leave me on the street corner,” Loving said. His voice was a jagged whisper. “Woke up in an alley behind some trash cans. With the worst headache I ever had in my life. And that’s includin’ a few nights I shot tequila till the sun came up.”
“We need to get you to the hospital,” Christina said. “You might have been seriously hurt.”
“Aw, I don’t think-”
“Just the same, you’re going.” She helped Loving to his feet. “You’re in no condition to walk. I’ll call a cab.”
Transportation was arranged, and Christina took Loving away to be examined by an ER doc. Tess went with them, this time taking a note from the sheriff that would guarantee her entry to Al’s room. Which left Ben alone with Sheriff Allen.
“I think you can confirm those DEA reports,” Ben said. “Sounds like Loving found Alberto Vincenzo.”
“Or Vincenzo found him. I don’t know what’s happening to this town. People getting hurt, beat up.” He shook his head. “It’s not like it used to be. Do you think-”
“Think what?” Ben asked.
“Oh, I hate to meddle but-well, you do seem to be in the eye of the hurricane here. And it’s clear that we’ve got some bad eggs who are willing to do just about anything-including hurting other people. Do you think it’s safe?”
“You’re worried about me?”
“I’m worried about your legal assistant.”
Ben rolled his eyes. Of course.
“She’s tough, spunky, pushy. Mind you, I love all that. But it’s exactly the kind of stuff that might get her hurt.”
“Christina can take care of herself.”
“Yeah. So could your investigator. And that Al fella. Except they’re both in the hospital now. I sure wouldn’t want-” He lowered his eyes, pressed his lips together. “Well, hell. I guess it’s obvious by now. I’m pretty sweet on that little lady of yours.”
Ben was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable.
“I think she’s something special. But I guess you already know that.” Allen paused. “Do you think she and I–I mean, is it possible we could-” He muttered something under his breath. “Oh, damnation!”
“If you have something to ask Christina,” Ben said, “just ask her.”
“Maybe I will at that.” He gave Ben a quick nod. “Guess I’ll be seeing you.
And then Ben was alone. Alone with two tons of red-inked paper, a Sasquatch suit, and his thoughts. Some of which were pretty unpleasant.
Chapter 27
Ben knew he should probably check first with her receptionist, but he wasn’t in the mood. He darted past the woman before she could stop him and zipped into Granny’s office.
Granny was concentrating on the pile of papers on her desk. Apparently she sensed his presence; she looked up abruptly and cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t folks back in Oklahoma know it’s polite to knock?”
“We know,” Ben answered, “but politeness is a courtesy that has to be earned.”
“I see.” She leaned back in her chair, a playful smile on her lips. The top two buttons on her blouse were unbuttoned, which, when she stretched back like that, became impossible to ignore. “What can I do for you, Mr. Kincaid?”
“I just came by to drop off my preliminary exhibit list.” He opened his briefcase and withdrew a piece of paper.
Granny took it greedily. “Hope there are no big surprises here. I really hate surprises-” She stopped. “I think you’ve made a mistake, Kincaid. There’s nothing written on this paper.”
“Of course there is.”
“I’m looking at it, Kincaid. It’s blank.”
“Nope. I wrote down my exhibit list right there.”
“I telling you, there’s nothing-”
“It’s written in invisible ink.”
Granny blinked. “Invisible ink?”
“Sure. You know, lemon juice. Didn’t you have a childhood? Wait, don’t answer that. I probably don’t want to know.”
A wry, not very amused smile played on her lips. “Is this your idea of a joke?”
“Nope. Just my way of fulfilling my legal obligations. In conformity with the customs and procedures of Magic Valley County. At least as they appear to me.”
“Kincaid, everything I gave you was perfectly readable-”
“So is that. You have to hold it close to a lightbulb.”
“A lightbulb?”
“Right. Let it get hot, but not hot enough to burn. The words will emerge. Of course you won’t be able to photocopy it. But I gather that’s not a problem here in beautiful downtown Magic Valley.”
Granny pushed herself to her feet. “All right, Kincaid, let’s stop pussyfooting around. What is it you want?”
“You know what I want. I want all the documents you’re obliged to produce-you can keep the decoys-in normal photocopyable black ink. Not red, not green, not purple. Black.”
“If you want black ink, you could have them retyped.”
“I could if I had the time, which I don’t, or the money, which I don’t.”
“Life’s tough all around, Kincaid.”
“Especially when your opponent doesn’t play fair.”
“Now wait just a minute. There’s no obligation to produce photocopyable documents in the Rules of Criminal Procedure.”
