Page 42 of Broken
Jarvis stands and holds out his hand. “Special Agent Roy Jarvis. This is Special Agent Avery Marsh, and this is your client, Eugene Chubb.”
Akers takes a seat next to Chubb. “If you two will excuse us for a moment, I’d like to confer with my client in private.”
“Of course.” I rise and gather my things.
Jarvis grabs his laptop and we leave the room.
“What do you think?” Jarvis asks as we walk down the hallway.
“He knows a lot more than he’s letting on, for sure,” I say. “I want to know why that body ended up on Bridger land. From what I know about Jonathan Bridger, he’s not stupid enough to have someone killed and then tossed on his own property.”
To the contrary. Jonathan Bridger was shrewdly intelligent. And evil. I knew that personally. He fucked up my life plenty. If he were alive, I’d—
I don’t knowwhatI’d do, but keeping me from Chance was brutal.
Jarvis nods. “I agree. There’s something we’re missing here.”
“We can check in with the EPA investigators, see what they’ve found. If that whistleblower is still talking.”
Jarvis sighs. “Didn’t you hear?”
I frown and slow. “Hear what?”
He stops beside me, faces me. “A memo came in earlier. The poor guy was found early this morning, toes up in his bathtub.”
Dead?
Early this morning. When I was in my motel room with Chance.
“Then Chubb had better talk,” I say, “because our links to Bridger and Racehorse Hauling are rapidly disappearing.”
We head to an open work area to wait. Jarvis leaves to get us a couple bottles of water and returns. I open mine and take a long sip, letting the liquid cool my parched throat. What a fucking day.
When my water is nearly drained, Ms. Akers approaches. “Mr. Chubb is ready to talk,” she says.
I glance to Jarvis. “This should be interesting,” I murmur.
Returning to the interrogation room, we take our places across from Chubb and the attorney to hear what he has to say.
16
CHANCE
Unreal.
Fucking unreal.
TheJournal of Business Ethicsis hooked by a simple string to a gate latch on the other side. So simple…and I never knew it was here.
How could I? I never come in here.
The small room is dark except for the light trailing in from my father’s office. I scan the wall, find a light switch, and a fluorescent bulb bathes the room in harsh white light.
Boxes. Mountains of cardboard boxes.
God damn.
If my father was hiding anything, it’s in this windowless room.
