That unpleasant reaction helped Shane choose his next step—a delaying tactic. “Listen, Mom, I’ll haul whatever I find to my garage in town so I can blow the dust off before you take any of it into your house. You know how allergic you get. Those boxes have to be covered with years of pollen and dirt.”
“All right. Since it’s Saturday and you close early, why not plan on bringing them to me as soon as you’re free? And staying for supper, of course.”
That was not what Shane wanted to do, for several reasons, the most important being his desire to censor what she read. “I’ll see. You know how the repair business is. Farmers always break equipment right in the middle of a project and need it working ASAP.”
“Murphy’s Law,” Marsha said. “Okay. Do the best you can. I’m glad you got Jamie Lynn’s truck fixed. She really wanted her wheels back.”
“And I wanted her to stop hanging around the garage,” Shane admitted. “She was about to drive me crazy.”
“Only because of the tires?” Marsha teased.
“Yes.” He hoped he sounded as adamant as he’d intended. The last thing he needed was to give his mother more fodder for her romantic interpretations of inconsequential events. “Only because of the tires.”
“Okay, if you say so.”
“Look, Mom, if I don’t get a move on I’m not going to have time to hunt up Dad’s files this morning.”
“Okay. Hug Kyle for me and tell him I’m looking forward to seeing him later.”
“Right. Bye.”
Shane checked his watch. Kyle would probably sleep for another hour, at least. If he hurried he might be able to get all the boxes loaded before it was time to wake him.
Yes, he knew exactly where the papers were stored.
And, no, he did not want to give them to his mother when he was positive they would cause her renewed pain.
But what choice did he have? They were technically her property and she was entitled to them.
Eventually.
After he’d sorted the contents.
* * *
Jamie had spent most of her time reading her brother’s file. If it hadn’t been for needing to walk the dog and find something to eat, she might not have ventured out at all. Most of the trial transcript was pretty boring and repetitive. Highlighting the interesting parts had made it much easier to remember where they were and revisit them to make notes.
One thing she was finding disturbing was the lack of input from R.J. It was as if he had been relegated to the role of mute observer while his future was stolen and his life ruined. At times, the attorney who was supposed to represent the Hendersons sounded as if he worked for the prosecution.
And the judge was just as opinionated and stern. R.J. had recanted his initial, unofficial confession and pleaded innocent as the trial began. Later, his lawyer had requested a private audience with the judge and had officially switched his plea to guilty.
The jury was summarily dismissed and the proceedings wrapped up quickly. Since R.J. was being tried as an adult and his crime was against a well-liked sheriff, he received a stiff penalty: thirty years.
She pushed the file away, weary and confused. Looking up the number in a phone book as thin as a cheap pulp magazine, she dialed Marsha Colton Bryce.
“Hello! Did you change your mind?”
Jamie paused and frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“Oops. I didn’t look at the number. I thought you were Shane.”
“Is everything okay with you?” Still worried about her enemies spreading their evil to her new acquaintances, she felt a catch in her throat.
“Fine. Or, as Otis likes to say, ‘Finer than frog hair.’”
“There’s no problem? You haven’t been threatened or anything?”
“Of course not. Besides, Sam taught me to defend myself and I kept in practice all those years I was single. Nobody better mess with this pistol-packin’ granny.”
Her Wild West attitude amused Jamie Lynn. “Good for you. I might like to learn to shoot if the laws weren’t so strict where I’m from.”
“You just need to watch that you don’t go off half-cocked, as they used to say when pistols and long guns were flintlocks.”
“That’s where that old saying came from?”
“Sure is.” Marsha was chuckling. “So, what can I do for you? Did you get the trial transcripts read?”
“Yes. I stayed up half the night and I’m more confused than before. Has Shane brought you Sam’s notes yet?”
“No, but he’s due here later today and should have everything with him. He was getting the boxes loaded in his truck when I spoke to him about a half hour ago.”