Cheyenne; Friday at Lunchtime, Heather's office
Heather checked her watch for what must have been the twentieth time that morning. It was only eleven thirty and she couldn't wait for her day to be over.
When she had arrived at work her mind had drifted back to the conversation she had had with Jake that morning. She couldn't help but smile again at the image of a ‘little Jake' running around before turning her thoughts to the reassurance that Jake had given her when he had said that their 'first' would be all the more special because it was her 'first'. She nervously bit her lip. Though she had no doubts about giving herself completely to Jake, she had to admit, that she was filled with the slightest trepidation. Not only because it was her ‘first', but because of Jake's resolve to wait until she was ready. She understood and appreciated it but it would mean that she would have to make the first move. She needed to let him know that this was truly what she wanted, that she had absolutely no reservations.
She then thought about her advice to Jake that he needed to trust the love they had for one another and realized that she had to do the same, and once she did all would be right. In that moment she decided that she wanted tonight to be their ‘first'. Her heart fluttered at that thought, from both the excitement and the anxiety that arose within her. A smile came to her face as she realized just the thing that would get a rise out of Jake while at the same time making her feel special and feminine. She checked her watch again; finally it was lunch time! She took her purse out of her desk drawer and walked out of her office. She was going shopping!
Ten minutes later, when Heather entered Serendipity, a small lingerie boutique, a bell above the door rang out, announcing her arrival. Heather was the only one in the shop. This didn't really surprise her. In this day and age most people did not have the money to spend on such luxuries. As a matter of fact, she didn't either, but just this once she wasn't going to let her practical side get the better of her.
No sooner had she walked in the door when a sales clerk walked out of the back room. The clerk appeared to be in her sixties; she was slender and about the same height as Heather. She had on a black dress with a pink smock. Her gray hair was done up in a bun, and she had bi-focal glasses hanging from a pink beaded eyeglass chain around her neck.
"Hello dear," the clerk greeted kindly.
"Hello . . ., "Heather smiled as she looked down at the name tag the clerk wore on her smock, "Olga."
Olga smiled at the woman in front of her. "And you're?" she asked.
"Heather, nice to meet you,"
"So what can I help you with?"
"Ummm . . . I think I'll just look around for now," Heather replied, a little embarrassed. Being the practical person she was, she could count on one hand the number of times she had been in a shop like this.
"That's fine, dear, I'll be right over here if you need anything," Olga replied pointing to the check out counter.
"Thanks," Heather replied as she looked over Olga's shoulder at the displays in front of her.
To the left, she saw a display of bustiers with matching lacy thongs that made her blush They were so not her, and there was no way she would feel 'special' wearing those things - uncomfortable, yes, but special, never! To the right she saw a display of lacy, frilly bras, again not her. She began to wonder if she made a mistake in coming here.
Olga watched as Heather glanced at the displays behind her. Sensing her new customer wasn't comfortable with what she saw she said reassuringly, "Oh honey, don't worry, that isn't all we have. I'm sure we have exactly what you want. Now let me guess, you're going for sophisticated and demure. Maybe a satin or silk nightgown trimmed with lace? Something that says ‘I want to be with you' without going over the top?"
Heather felt the blush bloom her cheeks. She smiled and said quietly, almost shyly, "Yeah, something like that."
Olga understood perfectly and smiled at the woman in front of her. It had been a long time since she had a customer like Heather. Most women who came into the shop were almost crass in comparison, seemingly willing to go to any lengths to get a man to take care of them. She could tell by the blush on Heather's face that she was different, and it was a refreshing change. "I have some nightgowns in the back; let me show you where they are."
Heather followed her and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the displays.
"These are our nightgowns, I'm sure you'll find one that suits you. If you'd like I could give you some suggestions."
"I think I'll just look for now. Thanks for your help."
"You're welcome. I'll be right over here, straightening up, if you need me," Olga said before she turned and walked away. She stopped at one of the displays and pretended to go about her task as she watched Heather.
The nightgowns were arranged on hangers by color. Olga frowned when she saw Heather step over to the rack that had the beige and white nightgowns. She definitely needed a bolder color to set off her skin tone, like a blue, green, or red. She continued to observe as Heather pulled a few off the rack and walk over to a mirror and hold them in front of her. She couldn't help but smile at the dreamy look she saw on her customer's face as she contemplated the perfect nightgown. She frowned again when Heather seemingly settled on a long, soft beige nightgown trimmed with lace and decided she would to do her best to convince her customer that beige wasn't the color for her.
"I think I'll take this one," Heather said as she approached Olga.
"Oh, dear are you sure? We have plenty of other selections for you to look at."
"Don't you like it?" Heather asked, now a little unsure of her choice.
"Why don't you let me show you a few more? I think we might have some other colors that would suit you better. Why don't we take a look at those before you make your final decision?" Olga asked tactfully.
Heather gave her a weak smile and said, "Sure."
"With your fair skin, I think something with some color would suit you better," Olga said as she led Heather over to the rack with the red tone nightgowns.
"Red isn't really my favorite color."
"Well, that won't work then. Let's take a look at these green ones." Olga said as she walked over to the rack next to the red ones. She pulled out a long nightgown similar to the beige one Heather held in her hands. "Come on. Let's go over to the mirror."
When they reached the mirror Olga said, "Now I'll hold up the green one and you hold up the beige one." Heather did as requested and looked at herself in the mirror, amazed at how much better the green looked against her skin.
"See the difference Heather? The green brings out the tone of your skin while the beige makes you look a little washed out."
"You are definitely right. I need a bold color."
"Let me run over and get you a blue one. I think I know just the one!"
Olga returned a moment later with a short sapphire blue nightgown.
"Here you are dear. The color is perfect. It matches your eyes! I know you were thinking of a long one, but I'd like you to consider the short one. You have such a nice little figure. The short one will set it off much better than the long one would. Well, let's decide the color first, the length later. I'll hold the blue up in front of you and you hold up the green."
Olga watched Heather in the mirror as her eyes darted between the two nightgowns and asked, "So which color do you like better?"
"Most definitely, the blue! You're right, it matches my eyes. I'm just not sure about the length."
"Well, why don't you try it on? That's the only way you'll know for sure. I have a long one in the same color if you don't like the short one, but I think you'll be very happy with it."
"Can I try on both the long and short one?"
"Sure, honey. You wait right here while I run over and get the long one."
When Olga returned she led Heather over to the dressing room and handed her the two gowns. "Why don't you try the long one on first?"
"Okay." Heather replied as she walked into the dressing room and pulled the curtain closed.
Olga gave Heather a few minutes before she said through the curtain, "Are you ready for me to take a look?"
As Heather slowly opened the curtain Olga exclaimed, "Very nice! That color is perfect. Your eyes sparkle in it."
"It is the perfect color." Heather smiled at the clerk, happy that Olga had steered her away from the beige nightgown.
"And the look is what you're going for, demure and sophisticated, and not vulgar! I just don't think the length is right for you. Now go try on the short one." Olga demanded pleasantly.
Heather giggled at Olga as she backed into the dressing room and pulled the curtain closed. She put on the short blue nightgown and looked at herself in the mirror. Her mouth opened in surprise; she just couldn't believe how she looked. A smile came to her face and her heart fluttered as she imagined Jake's reaction when he saw her in it. Her breath hitched. She knew that it was the perfect choice.
Olga said from behind the curtain, "Heather, can I see?"
For the second time, Heather slowly pulled the curtain aside allowing Olga to see how she looked.
Olga looked her up and down, "Absolutely perfect!" she exclaimed. "It matches the color of your eyes and with your fair skin and dark hair it's the perfect color. It's sophisticated and demure but it also as that awe factor," she gushed before asking, "How do you feel in it?"
"I feel . . . umm . . . wonderful! I'll take it," Heather replied before backing into the dressing room again. She glanced at herself in the mirror one more time as she thought of what Jake's reaction would be. She had told Olga she felt special but there were no words to describe just how special she felt.
Heather changed and brought the nightgown to the counter where Olga was now standing. She paid for it, and as Olga was handing her bag, Heather told her sincerely, "Thank you for all your help. I really appreciate it. It's perfect."
Olga couldn't help but quip, "Well, I hope you're not going to be the only one who thinks it's perfect."
"Well . . .," Heather stammered.
Sensing her discomfort, Olga reached over and placed her hand over Heather's. "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to embarrass you. It really looks beautiful on you. That's all I'm trying to say."
Heather relaxed and smiled at Olga before admitting quietly, "I'm sure he'll think so, too."
Olga smiled at her customer. "Now don't be a stranger."
Heather smiled back, "I'll try not to be. I'll come to visit, if nothing else."
"I'd appreciate it, honey. I don't often get customers as nice as you," Olga replied, walking Heather to the door. "I'll see you soon."
"Bye," Heather said.
"Bye."
As Heather walked out the door, she came face to face with Tara.
"Hello, Tara."
"Heather," Tara practically sneered.
Not wanting anything to spoil her mood, Heather just rolled her eyes and stepped around Tara. As she walked down the street, she cringed at the picture that came to her mind of Tara entertaining Chief Valente in one of the bustiers and thongs she had seen on display in the shop. Needing to erase the thought from her mind she looked into the bag she carried to glimpse her new blue nightgown, confident that she had made the right choice.
Cheyenne; Friday Afternoon, Cheyenne Farm
As Chavez was pulling into the parking spot reserved for visitors in the 2006 GMC Envoy that had been issued to him, he saw a short, bald man with glasses step out of the building and approach the vehicle.
"Mr. Chavez?" asked the man, peering through the open window of the Envoy.
"That'd be me, and you are?"
"Stephen Jones, Farm Director. It's nice to meet you."
Chavez had a different picture in his mind of what the farm director would look like. He was half expecting that it would be a Ravenwood operative, but this man didn't fit the mold. Curious about the director Chavez asked, "So have you always had a career in the farming industry?" as he opened the door of the SUV and stepped out, engaging the alarm.
Jones was surprised but also pleased at the question; visitors seldom took a personal interest in him. He smiled at Chavez and said with pride, "Oh no, I was CFO at a medium sized company in northern Wyoming. I was six months into helping get the company back on its feet when it emerged from bankruptcy. A month before the attacks RJ Land approached me about this job. I was surprised they didn't want someone with farming experience. They explained that they already had an operations manager who dealt with the farming side of things and they needed someone who could oversee the business side of things. They made me an offer I couldn't refuse."
"I see. I can't say that I blame you," Chavez replied.
"You know, if you don't mind me saying, over the past few months I've come to realize that while Ravenwood does most things well, their orientation program leaves a bit to be desired," Jones said with a chuckle before continuing. "I've been vocal with your HR department about my feelings on security staff they send over who have no idea what we're about. So did they tell you about Cheyenne Farm during your orientation?"
"Nothing, except to brief me on your report of suspicious activity."
"Just what I thought," Jones said laughing. "Why don't I give you some information about the farm and a short tour before we have our meeting? I think it will help in your investigation to have some history and an understanding of how things work around here."
"Sounds like a plan." Chavez said.
Jones launched into the history of the farm. "RJ Land Development bought this parcel of land in January 2004, and contracted with Ralls Engineering to do the necessary construction to make working farms or ranches. While building was in process, staff was recruited to work the farm. By 2006 the farm was viable, producing enough crops to feed a small city."
‘That makes no sense,' Chavez thought before asking, "What was RJ Land planning to do with a farm?"
"Good question. Matter of fact, I asked the same question at my interview. I was told that agribusiness was the wave of the future and they wanted to get in on the ground floor. My first week in the job, I asked if there was a business proposal drawn up before they purchased the farm; I wanted to have a look at the projected numbers. They told me to that I should just......" Jones trailed off as soon as he realized that he might be saying too much.
"That you should just what?" Chavez asked; his interest piqued.
"Oh, never mind that now," Jones replied, dismissing the question. "When Tomarchio took office, RJ Land secured the government contract to supply food to the Capitol Complex and Camp Cheyenne. Other than meats, poultry, and dairy goods, the farm is the only supplier of food for the citizens of Cheyenne."
Chavez had wanted to press Jones into to telling him what they had told them about the business proposal, but after what Jones had just said a more immediate question came to mind. "Cheyenne Farm is only four thousand acres, and you're saying that this farm is the major supplier of food for the Capital complex and all the citizens of Cheyenne?"
"Are you including the Feemies? That's your problem. They're not citizens of Cheyenne," Jones said, clearly annoyed at the idea, "I have to say, and I know most will agree with me, that they are a lazy and worthless lot. It's been almost nine months since the attacks. It's about time they get off their rear ends and make something of themselves."
Chavez had to bite his tongue. From the time he had spent in the FEMA camp, he knew the prejudice was unfounded. The majority of the camp's occupants were hard working people who had been dealt a bad hand. There was nothing they wanted more than to leave the confines of the camp and establish themselves in the new post-bomb society. What people didn't realize was that the present state of affairs with Camp Cheyenne, as well as other camps in the West, was the result of the government's negligent attitude toward improving the quality of life for its citizens. Besides, where else could those displaced by the bombs go?
"Be that as it may, you're right to be surprised, and you are correct. There are 140,000 citizens of Cheyenne and the 60,000 Feemies that reside at the camp. This is a crop farm, food not produced here is brought in weekly from other farms owned and operated by RJ Land. Another thing you have to realize, and it's not something I'm happy about, is that according to the terms of the government contract, a percentage of the food provided by RJ Land is required to be allocated to the Feemies," Jones said by way of an explanation. "With all those Feemies you can imagine the drain it puts on our resources - which is yet another reason we need your help getting to the bottom of our little mystery."
‘This is definitely something I have to get to the bottom of, all right,' Chavez thought as he nodded his head. He looked Jones directly in the eye, his face taking on a somber expression, and said, "That's why I'm here." Then, wanting to steer the conversation back to the farms, Chavez ignored Jones' latest comment about the refugees and asked, "So, RJ Land owns other farms besides this one?"
"Yes, I found out after the attacks about the other farms and ranches owned by the company. Cattle and sheep ranches and poultry and dairy farms, but that's all I know."
Chavez couldn't help but be suspicious of what Jones had just said. He made a mental note to himself to ask Heather to do some additional research on RJ Land before turning his attention back to his host.
"It's also worth noting that RJ Land saw a chance to help the independent farmers and ranchers get back on their feet after the attacks. They are now offering a new service that provides discounts on seeds and livestock and management services and recruitment services for a small fee. From what I understand, this side of the business is growing by leaps and bounds."
Chavez, thinking of the last phone call with Jericho, muttered under his breath, "Yeah, I bet it is."
"What's that you said?"
"It was nothing, just absorbing," Chavez said, forcing a smile. "Thank you, Mr. Jones. You're right, the company orientation leaves a bit to be desired," he chuckled. "Now, I believe you said something about a tour?"
Stephen Jones cleared his throat. "Yes, we'll start here. The building I came out of is the Administration Building. My office is located there, as well as the accounting office. The three buildings surrounding it were once administrative offices, but after the attacks the administrative staff was either transferred or let go and the buildings repurposed."
Stephen Jones talked as he pointed out each of the buildings, "That building over there is the farm store stocked with clothes, equipment, seeds, food. Any necessity that the workers need is available in the store, as well as a few luxuries. There's no need for the workers to leave the farm. Everything they need is right here or can be brought in." Pointing out the next building Jones continued, "This one has been converted into dormitories for what we call ‘transient workers'. During planting and harvesting seasons these workers are brought in and the farmers working the land can contract their services." Pointing to the farthest building from the Administration office Jones explained, "The last building over there a schoolhouse. All children living on the farm with their parents are required to attend school. Along with the basics, agricultural and livestock classes are taught."
Chavez interrupted with a question, "There are families living on the farms?"
"Yes, there are. I forgot to tell you that this farm is divided into one thousand, four acre plots. One of the plots is where we are standing. The remaining plots each have small two bedroom cottages and provide living space for the displaced farmers who have leased the plots and their families. All farmers who lease land have to go through a rigorous application process and are selected based on their crop and/or livestock expertise and experience."
"I thought you said this was a crop farm, why do you need livestock expertise?" Chavez said.
"Yes. Well....Well , I...I.. think we're all set here."
The man was obviously flustered Chavez thought as he watched Jones lift his arm and start rubbing the back of his neck and shift from foot to foot. He watched as Jones took a couple of relaxing breaths before asking, "What's next?"
"I wanted you to meet the operations manager but he's off site. For the last part of our tour, I've arranged a visit with one of our farmers so that you can see firsthand how our operation works. We'll go to the farm closest to here. It's only a half mile out. Would you like to drive or shall I?"
"I'll drive," Chavez answered and walked over to the SUV with Jones following him.
A couple of minutes later Chavez pulled into the dirt driveway that Jones pointed out to him, and he took a second to survey what he saw in front of him. There was a small white-washed cottage with a window with red shutters on either side of the door. The path leading up to the two steps in front of the door were lined with colorful flowers, of which he only recognized the daffodils because they had been his mother's favorite. A man and a woman stood on the front steps with two young children in front of them. The man had his arm around the woman's waist and a hand on the shoulder of the child who was standing directly in front of him.
‘This is too good to be true. Who do they think they're fooling?' was the first thought that entered Chavez's mind at the scene in front of him.
When Jones and Chavez stepped out of the car, the man raised his hand in greeting, "Good afternoon, Mr. Jones. It's nice to see you again. And who have you brought to visit this time?"
Jones replied, "This is Mr. Chavez. I thought that I'd show him around a little before we go back to the office and talk business."
Chavez waited a second to see if he was going to be introduced to the man before him. Glaring at Jones and taking a step forward, he held out his hand to the man. "It's nice to meet you," Chavez said before asking, "And you are?"
The man shook his hand and replied, "Derek Johnson." He then took a step back before saying, "This is my wife, Mary and our children, Katie and Tim."
"Nice to meet you, ma'am .You, too, Katie and Tim."
Mary then bent over and said to her children, "Why don't you two go play? After our visitor leaves, you can start your homework."
"Okay Ma," Tim said followed by Katie saying, "See ya later." Mary smiled as both kids ran off before she turned to the two visitors, "It's hot today. Why don't you two come in for a drink before Derek shows you around?"
"Sure," Chavez replied.
When they entered the cottage Chavez was not surprised to see how comfortable and homey the house looked, and it only served to feed his suspicion that the director was trying to hide the reality of life on the farm. To the left of him was the living room. It had a fireplace, a small blue plaid couch and two solid color blue chairs. There was a coffee table in front of the couch that had what appeared to be a small stack of magazines on it. On each of the walls hung landscape paintings that appeared to be carefully picked to coordinate with the furnishings. The mantle of the fireplace had a couple of wedding pictures of Mary and Derek, as well as various pictures of the children at various ages. On each side of the fireplace were built-in shelves that housed both hard and soft-covered books, as well as a small collection of vases and decorative boxes. There were two windows, the one in the front of the house and the other on the side of the house.
To the right of Chavez was the dining area, there was a rectangular table surrounded by six chairs. Against one of the inside walls sat a buffet with mirror above it. In the center of the buffet was a bronze copy of the Remington sculpture, Cowboy. A white lace tablecloth and vase of flowers adorned the table. Off the dining room was a small kitchen that had all the modern conveniences.
Looking down the hallway directly in front of him, Chavez saw three doors, which he could only assume led to the two bedrooms and a bathroom. Taking one more glance at the décor and despite the welcoming atmosphere, he couldn't help but suspect the scene before him was staged and didn't represent the reality of life on the farm.
"Why don't you men go sit at the table and I'll bring out the drinks," Mary said interrupting Chavez's line of thought.
Once the drinks were served and Mary was sitting at the table with the men, Chavez began the conversation, "Mrs. Johnson, you have a very nice home here. My mother and sister always took pride in their homes and I can see that you do, too."
"Thank you, I enjoy decorating. Most of the furniture in the house came with us from our old home when we moved here. The rest we were able to get at the store right here on the farm. We find that we can buy everything we need at the store. There's a monthly shipment from Cheyenne that is used to stock the store. All the farmers are notified when the shipment is coming in, and you have to get there early if you don't want to wait in a long line."
Derek glared at Mary and cleared his throat before explaining, "One of the benefits to leasing land at the farm is that it entitles you to store discounts, and during harvesting and planting seasons, discounted labor services."
Jones took over from Derek, "Compared to independent farmers, these farmers have it made. In addition to discounted goods and services, RJ Land guarantees to buy all the crops grown on the farm."
Chavez looked between Derek and Mary and said, "It certainly sounds like you have it good here," while at the same time thinking of similarities between what he had just heard and what he heard from Eric Green and Stanley Richmond when they called Jericho the other day.
"We're very happy here," Mary said as she stood up from the table and started to collect the empty drink glasses.
The three men rose and Derek said, "Let's go outside, I'll show you around before you leave."
Forty-five minutes later Chavez and Jones were sitting in the administrative offices. "Seems like you have a good operation going here."
"Yes, it's profitable," Jones replied.
"So what's the problem?"
"My accounting supervisor came to me the other day. It seems like things aren't adding up. One thing you have to understand is that all people living on the farm are required by the terms of their lease to buy all goods they need at the farm store. This not only benefits them, because everything in the store is sold at a discount, it benefits the FEMA camp as a portion of the store profits goes directly to the camp to help finance their community services."
"I see," Chavez said encouraging Jones to get to the point.
"Bottom line, Mr. Tyler came to me and said he was unable to reconcile the amount of the purchases made at the store with the amount paid to the farmers for their produce.
"And you're worried that produce not accounted for are being embezzled out of the farm," Chavez finished for Jones.
"Yes, there's a big demand on the black market for them. I think we might have some kind of smuggling ring in operation here."
"Makes sense. How often do you have trucks coming in and out of here?"
"Twice each week, except for the last week of the month when we get the delivery for the store. Shipments arrive and leave on Tuesdays and Thursdays."
"All vehicles require permits?"
"Yes, in addition, standard procedure dictates that searches are performed on all vehicles entering and exiting the farm."
"Good. There's a fence around the perimeter of the farm, right?"
"Yes, and the entrance gate is locked each night."
"Seems like you're taking all the necessary precautions. Everything points to the fact that there's someone on the inside involved. I'm gonna send over a few men tomorrow to have a look around and to inspect the fence. I want to make sure that no fence wires have been cut which would allow access into and out of the farm. I'm also gonna want to see a report of all the goods sold back to the store compared to the money spent at the store for each farmer since they've signed their lease. Can you send that to Ravenwood headquarters to my attention on Monday morning? I'll be coming out on Tuesday to have another look around, and it will give me a chance to review the report before I get here."
"No problem, I'll have the report sent to you Monday morning by eleven o'clock. What time will you be here and how long do you plan to stay?"Chavez raised an eyebrow and gave Jones an incredulous look that wasn't lost by Jones who then added, "I need to block out the time on my calendar."
"I'll be over early and plan to spend at least half a day, but I'll only need an hour of your time. Shall we say eleven o'clock?" Chavez said as he got up to leave.
"No problem. We usually don't let visitors go around the farm unescorted, although with your credentials you have free reign of any facility owned directly or indirectly by Jennings & Rall."
‘So RJ Land is owned by Jennings & Rall. Another piece of information I wasn't aware of that might come in handy,' Chavez thought as he walked out of the office.
An hour later Chavez was sitting in Mike Collins' office. Chavez had just finished telling Collins about his plans to investigate the purported embezzlement at the farm and wanted to gauge his reaction when he told him about the tour.
"I have to tell you I was really impressed with the operation. Jones took me on a tour of the farm and we met with one of the farmers, Derek Johnson. It seems like RJ Land takes very good of its farmers. Makes me wonder why anyone would jeopardize that by engaging in illegal activities."
"Don't tell me you fell for that dog and pony show!" Collins said before laughing.
Chavez wasn't surprised at Collins' reaction; it just confirmed his suspicion that they were trying to cover up something. Keeping his expression neutral he asked, "What are you talking about?"
Collins laughed again, "Ever hear the saying that things are not always as they seem? The show you saw today was for the benefit of Tomarchio and his staff. Though it's good to know Jones is still practicing. He didn't do so well the first time."
Chavez stared out Collins for a few seconds, before taking a calculated risk by saying what was on his mind. "What are you saying? Things aren't what they seem? Practice? I need to know what's up if I'm gonna do my job."
"All in due time, Joe. All in due time," Collins said before changing the subject. "Hey, I have something for you, a gift of sorts. I thought you might enjoy it."
Knowing that he wouldn't get more information if he continued to press the point, Joe snorted and said sarcastically, "Aww . . . you shouldn't have."
Collins smiled and reached down to pick up the box next to his chair. "I'm sure you'll appreciate this," Collins said as he placed a case of Coors on the desk.
Chavez couldn't hide his surprise. He smiled before saying, "You're right I certainly do appreciate it. I don't remember the last time I had a cold beer."
"Well, now you have twenty-four. Enjoy them."
"You bet I will." Chavez said and then looked at his watch. "I think I'm going to shove off now. Is there anything else you needed?"
"No, all set. I'll see you at Monday at nine o'clock. Your office is going to be the one on the right as you leave my office. It will be ready for you when you come in."
"Thanks," Chavez said as he stood up and reached for the case of beer. "And thanks for the gift. Have a good weekend, Mike."
"You too, Joe."
Chavez left the Ravenwood office thinking that for his first day on the job he had gathered quite a bit of information to report back to his team. He couldn't help but smile when he thought of what Jake's and Hawkins's reactions would be when he offered them both a cold beer when they met the next day.
Jericho; Friday Afternoon, Town Hall
Eric was furious as he hurried into Jericho Town Hall for the second time that day, his fingers just itching to get themselves around Gray's neck. No more than ten minutes ago Darcy had stopped him on the street and had told him what she had overheard Jim O'Leary telling one of the other agents in the office.
‘This shouldn't surprise me one bit! At least it answers my question as to whether or not Gray is incredibly corrupt or unbelievably inept. He's both!'
As he approached Gray's office he saw Jim O'Leary leaving it. They nearly collided in the hall before Eric begrudgingly moved aside, all the while casting a ferocious glare at the man passing him.
Jim O'Leary couldn't help but notice the look on Eric's face as he passed by. The look confirmed his impression of Eric from the meeting . . . he was going to be trouble.
Eric reached the mayor's office just as Gray was walking out of it. He blocked the exit forcing Gray back into the office.
"Gray, I want to talk to you now." Eric said angrily.
Completely missing the disgust clearly written on Eric's face and in the harsh tone of his voice Gray said frantically, "Eric, I'm so glad you're here. I have a problem you need to help me with."
Eric crossed his arms and planted his feet firmly on the ground. "How could you, Gray? How could you sacrifice the town's needs for your own gain? How could you abuse your position that way?" Eric asked, his voice getting louder with each question.
Too wrapped up in his own problems, Gray wasn't even listening to Eric. Instead, his own concern came tumbling out in a rush. "They're twisting my arm, Eric. They want me to contract for services for the salt mine." He shook his head slightly, his mouth agape, and his eyes wide. "I don't want to, I don't trust them. You're a lawyer, you can help me. If you don't they're going to take away my . . . .," Gray said his voice trailing off.
Eric's eyes narrowed. Until now, he'd always thought the expression ‘seeing red' was merely a cliché but as he examined the ineffectual man standing in what had once been his father's office, Eric saw more than red. He saw treachery, selfishness, and stupidity.
"They're going to what Gray? Take away your new SUV with an unlimited gas supply? Take away the electricity that will allow you to light your house 24/7 Take away the fuel they promised you to keep your house toasty warm this winter while everyone freezes in those worthless winter parkas that you say you worked so hard to get included in the incentives for the town? " Eric replied angrily, pointing a finger at Gray each time he asked a question.
"You...you don't understand. I can't sign the contract. It's too risky. I could lose the salt mine!" Gray practically sputtered.
"I understand that you sold out this town for your own gain and you're worried you'll have to give back your thirty pieces of silver!"
Gray clasped his hands together, his stance vaguely reminding Eric of a begging man. "Eric, you have to get them off my back. I can't sign their contract. You have to help me out!"
"You want me to help you out? You have got to be kidding me!"
"I don't know where else to turn. You're the only lawyer left in town!" Gray pleaded, his concern for his problem overriding the frustration the he felt for having to depend on a Green to solve his problem.
The corners of Eric's lips curled upward, but his smile did not reach his eyes. The effect sent a cold chill down Gray's spine
"No way in hell. Lots of luck, you're going to need it," Eric said derisively before storming out of the office.