Page 201 of The Fourth Option
“Pretty much all of them, though they frame it as certainty versus doubt, and include the nature of justification in their theories.”
“Justification.” Stanton let the word linger. “And Leigh Ann?”
“What about her?”
“Why did she do it?”
Over the past three months the two men had spent many evenings together discussing the case, and Walker had told Stanton about Bates’s assertion that Leigh Ann had used him to kill those connected to her son’s murder.
“Why does anyone do anything?”
“Philosophy again?”
“Aristotle hadtelos, an ultimate goal or endgame. Blondel studied the essence of human action. And then there was Nagel, who thought that trying to discern any of that in your fellow man was an absurdity unto itself. I think Nagel had it right.”
“Do you resent her?”
Walker swirled the ice in his glass.
“Resent her?”
“For pulling you into this.”
“No. I came back and her husband didn’t, yet she forgave me. Least I can do is the same. Plus, I owed her.”
“Owed her?”
“Well, I owed her husband a favor.”
“Alma tells me that favors are how the game is played.”
“She’s a wise woman. What about Icy?”
“She’s on the warpath. Leigh Ann gave her the information about corrupt cops. She trusted it to Lloyd, who told Vargas, who sent in the hitters.”
“Think she’ll be the next governor?”
“I don’t think anyone can stop her.”
“And Genyra?”
“The board is scrambling to save the company, but their stock is in the tank so they have applied for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection.”
“I can’t believe they got away with it as long as they did—using a legitimate pharmaceutical distribution network to move illicit product around the country.”
“Hiding in plain sight,” Stanton said. “They would still be getting away with it had you not ventured on the scene.”
“I brought you a gift,” Walker said, changing the subject. He reached into his bag and handed Stanton a box.
“A gift? With all the free dinners you have enjoyed under my roof this month, it’s about time,” he joked.
“Just open it.”
Stanton tore open the package, poorly wrapped in New Orleans Saints gift paper.
Inside was a wooden box.
“This isn’t going to explode, is it?”
