Brad switched his eyes to the man in time to see color flush his face.
“I live out of town, but it concerns me, and I have a right to ask the question without revealing my identity.”
“Would you mind telling us how far out of town you live, or is that information also classified?”
The man mumbled something that no one caught.
“Speak up, man, if you’ve something to say!” Walt Heath was on his feet now, glaring at the man.
“If you’re being accusatory then back it up by telling us who the hell you are!” Mac from the general store stood also. “Sounds to me like you’re all air and no substance.”
“His eyes are too close together, I don’t trust him.”
Brad heard the rumble of laughter ripple through the crowd as an elderly woman he had seen about town spoke.
“He’s got a shifty look about him.”
“I’m just stating the facts. You all should be pleased I’m sharing them with you.”
The man looked uncomfortable now.
“We know the facts.” Patrick McBride, Jake’s father, got to his feet. “This is a small town, and we make it our business to know everything that is a threat toward our existence. I’ll add to that by saying that Ethan and Brad are trustworthy men who don’t deserve your insinuations.”
Brad had spoken to the man twice, and only briefly, but he’d been added to the trustworthy tag. It was humbling to be accepted, even if it was because of his brother.
“Maybe I could clear this up.” Jake got to his feet next. “Ethan and Brad Gelderman are putting their money behind the legal costs to fight this, so from where I’m sitting, that means they’re on our side. Anyone who has a problem with them, say so now.”
Brad looked around the church, but no one spoke, and most were glaring at the man who had raised the subject of his and Ethan’s loyalties. His eyes moved to the door as two men in suits entered. Average height, hair neat, suits dark and immaculate. Lawyers, was his guess.
“Who are you?” Annabelle said the words into the microphone, which she’d managed to wrestle out of Newman’s hands. Her words made everyone who hadn't seen the men enter turn in their seats.
The two men looked surprised that she'd addressed them; no one else was. Brad had only been here a short time, but he had come to realize Annabelle never took a backward step. If his sister-in-law had something to say, she said it, and he found himself liking her very much.
“I said,” Annabelle spoke again, this time sounding seriously pissed, “who are you?”
The men had remained just inside the doorway, and Brad had a feeling he knew just who they were and why they were there. He also knew who'd sent them.
“My name is Mr. Alexander, and this is Mr. Ryan. We are lawyers for the Falkirk Consortium, and have come here to clear up any misunderstandings that may have arisen over the upcoming development proposal.”
The sudden silence in the room was complete, and then Cubby grabbed the microphone from Annabelle. Brad smiled as she snarled at him.
“I have a question for you, Mr. Alexander.”
“Of course, Sheriff, ask me anything.”
Brad shifted his weight to his other hip. This was about to get interesting.
“Is shooting at unarmed people and forcing them flee for their lives part of your upcoming development plan?”
The man had not expected that, but like any good lawyer he rallied fast.
“I'm sorry, Sheriff, I don't understand the question?”
In fairness, he probably didn't, as Brad doubted the man knew any of what had transpired on Buchanan land that day. Or maybe he did, but hadn't instigated it. Whatever, he was now one of the bad guys, and if the wave of anger rolling through the church was any indication, they were about to become very uncomfortable.
“Two of my people were shot at the day they flew out to look at the Buchanan land. Upon landing they were confronted by members of the Falkirk Consortium and Nadine Buchanan. Heated words were exchanged, and then your people supposedly flew away in two helicopters. The shootings started after that, and it’s a natural conclusion, don't you think, that the shooter could have been someone who stayed behind?”
Both men appeared calm in the face of the swell of fury travelling through the church.
