The kind of lawyer Dad used regularly. The kind I swore I'd stop using after what I did to Sebastian.
He answers on the second ring. "Blackstone." His tone is cautious. Surprised. "Didn't expect to hear from you."
“I need you to make a call.”
“What kind of call?”
“An EPA inspector was arrested this morning. Jeffrey Williams. He's out on bail at his home in Shelbyville. I need to know what he's planning to tell prosecutors. And whether he needs legal representation.”
Another pause, longer this time. “You want me to arrange representation for him?”
“Possibly. Tell him you're reaching out on behalf of an old acquaintance who will cover the cost of the best criminal defense attorney in the state. Someone who specializes in getting federal sentences reduced.”
"And if he agrees, and this mysterious benefactor pays for his attorney, you know that payment is traceable. If prosecutors suspect witness tampering, they'll subpoena records and follow the money. Shell companies and intermediaries only work until investigators start digging."
"So don't give them a reason to dig."
"Williams is the reason. He's a cooperating witness. They'll ask how he's suddenly affording top-tier representation.”
“I’m sure this isn’t the first call you’ve gotten of this nature. You can figure out a way.”
“But if they do ask and he lies, that's a crime. If he tells the truth—”
“Then I’m exposed,” I cut in. “Which is where I’m at now. I need to know if he’s going to keep the Blackstone name out of it. And I can’t control that from a distance.”
Voss is quiet for a moment. "You understand what this is. This isn't a risk. It’s evidence."
He's not wrong. It is risky. But this is where we are at now. This problem needs to be contained.
"Can you handle it or not?"
“I can handle anything, Blackstone. I'm just making sure you understand the price if this goes sideways.” He knows I’ll pay, so he doesn’t wait for a reply. “I’ll structure the payment through enough layers that it'll take them months to trace. By then, Williams will have gotten his deal and moved on. No one looks too hard at closed cases.”
"Good. Make the call."
The line goes dead.
I set the phone on my desk and wait. At this hour my office feels like a tomb. Too quiet. Too still. Like it's waiting for me to bury whatever's left of the man I could have been.
My phone lights up with a text from Ivy. I don't read it.
Minutes later, Voss calls back.
"He'll talk. But not over the phone." A pause. "Wants a face to face."
"Why?"
"No idea. Just said he'd be up." A beat. "But I assume he's being careful. Probably figures his phone is already tapped."
Fuck. It's one thing for Voss to call on my behalf. That's attributable to me, but there's distance. Plausible deniability. But me showing up in person? That's direct contact with a federal witness. If anyone sees me, that's evidence.
Touching Williams right now isn't damage control — it's a gift to the prosecution.
But what choice do I have? I have to know what he knows. What if there are more properties besides the one Madison told us about?
I grab my keys. "Meet me there."
"Blackstone." The word lands like a hand on my arm. "Think about what you're doing. It's unlikely, but physical surveillance isn't off the table. He's only been out a few hours, so it would cost them to set it up, but I wouldn't rule it out entirely."
