Deciding I should change my tactic, I soften my tone. “Your client is dead, Vern. Lily needs your help. She told me you’ve always been kind to her.”
His glare lessens for a moment before hardening once again.
Banking on that brief glimpse of what I hope is compassion for the situation Lily’s in, I plead, “I just need you to share what you might know. Anything that could help us lead the detectives to the person, or people, who could’ve done this to Blake.” I pause, noting his frown is still in place, but his eyes have softened. “You yourself admitted at poker that the list of people he pissed off was long.”
“This is a complicated situation, Rivers,” Vernon grumbles.
Nodding, I go on, “I’ve gathered as much. And you know him better than anyone, probably even better than Lily did. You can tell me what he was up to before he was killed.”
By the time I finish my hopefully convincing speech, he’s looked away from me, staring out the window. My mind is going through all the possibilities of why Vernon would be hesitant to help me. There’s only one that makes the most sense—he’s involved somehow, beyond just being Blake’s attorney.
I’m debating offering him complete anonymity, regardless of what information he provides, when he looks back at me. “Give me your card. I’ll look through my records and email you what I feel I can share.”
Recognizing that this is as close as I’m going to get to a definite assurance that he’ll give me something, I stand andoffer him my hand. “Thank you, Vernon. I know Lily will be grateful for your assistance.”
He takes my hand, his palm cool and clammy against mine. “Rivers, I hope you know what you’re getting into.”
“I do, Vernon.”
I definitely do not.
The sun is bright when I leave the overly dim office. I squint as I pull out my sunglasses and climb into my car. Checking my phone, I find a text from Mandi, reminding me of a court appearance I have in an hour and a half. I text her that I’m on my way before pulling out of the small parking lot.
I’m not sure what I expected from my meeting with Vernon, but I don’t think that was it. He clearly knows something. Whether it’ll be helpful something remains to be seen.
A street sign catches my attention, and I realize I’m in the wrong lane. Cursing, I flip on my blinker and use my assertive driving skills to slip in between two cars right before the turn. I make the turn right before a black SUV does the same.
A black SUV that was a few cars back and in the same lane as me before my turn.
“What the fuck…”
I make another quick, unnecessary turn.
I’m a few blocks down when I see the SUV make the same turn.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I press the phone button on my car’s console and tell it to call Carlos.
After a few rings, he picks up. The noise in the background tells me he’s somewhere public. “What’s up?”
I make another turn.
“Hey, so, question for ya. Any reason you all would be following me in a blacked-out SUV?”
The SUV makes the same turn.
The din of voices and commotion gets quieter before a door opens and closes.
“Say that again.”
“I’m being followed right now by an SUV and just wanted to see if it was Nashville’s finest wasting taxpayer money following me instead of criminals.”
The line is quiet except for typing on a computer keyboard. “Unless it’s TBI, which I highly doubt, I definitely don’t think it’s us.”
My eyes flick to the review mirror just as someone cuts off the SUV, and I internally cheer.
“That’s what I was afraid of. Thanks, Carlos.”
“I feel like you’re welcome isn’t the correct answer. But do you need something? Should I come to you with lights and sirens? Send patrol to pull them over? Put you in WITSEC?”
