Return to Dead Horse Canyon: Grandfather Spirits

SARA'S CONDO OFFICE

DENVER

Wednesday, July 4

8:43 p.m.

Sara rocked back in her computer chair, leisurely checking her email.

The first message to arrive following the KDVR interview was from a lawyer.

She scoffed.

How typical.

She laughed out loud when dozens more followed.

First come, first served, she thought, and clicked.

Kenneth Carlson, attorney-at-law, wondered if she was pursuing a wrongful death suit.

Interesting.

Such had never entered her mind.

It wasn't like she needed money. The punitive aspect of it, however, reeked with appeal. If she won, it would bring more publicity and implicate them in a different way.

The President failed to mention they'd been killing people to maintain their dirty little secret.

She clicked the link to Carlson's website. The header was an accident scene, ambulance in the foreground surrounded by a cadre of police cars, all lit up like Christmas trees.

An ambulance chaser.

Big surprise.

On the other hand, maybe that was exactly what she needed.

Furthermore, in addition to the wreck at Dead Horse Canyon, there was the eighteen-wheeler incident. If this guy specialized in vehicular accidents, he knew liability laws inside out.

However, the defendants in her case weren't identified personally.

That could be a problem.

The only official record of the one where Bryan died was with the Falcon Ridge cops. There was no record of the second one, much less the phony Highway Patrolman who pulled her from the wreckage.

Where did her car end up, anyway?

No one knew.

Which made the insurance claim a real pain. The only way to resolve it was to say it was stolen, which was a bit of a stretch, but not exactly a lie.

How could she file a lawsuit against an unknown party? Or could she go after the government itself?

From what her father said, you couldn't sue the government without their permission.

As if!

Whistleblowers got their butts kicked and that was about it.

But there had to be some way.

The more she thought about it, the better it sounded.

But was this guy the right one for the job?

Maybe she needed someone familiar with dealing with the government. Situations where the responsibility went higher than individuals who simply carried out orders. Her eyebrows lowered again at the adage about fighting city hall.

Was it pointless?

No.

This battle needed to be waged on as many fronts as possible. This seemed a viable approach. Otherwise, all those lawyers wouldn't be yipping at her heels.

Did such a lawsuit require a different specialty?

Maybe not.

PURF was managed by EMPI, a private company. Going after them might be easier, even if it did involve a government contract. No doubt the management firm was responsible for all aspects, including security. At the least, they could point to the contractor, whether company or individual.

Like Bryan always said, "turds roll downhill."

Her mind wandered among the possible options. Maybe her father would have some ideas.

She picked up her phone.

Set it down again.

No.

This was her battle, not his.

He claimed to be behind her, but she could tell he wanted her to give it up. Plus, she didn't want to be a pest, much less drag him into it. If she needed his help, that was one thing. When other professionals could do the job, that was the course she should take.

Except he knew a lot of people.

Could he refer her to a more suitable attorney? Maybe this guy wasn't the most qualified. By the looks of her inbox, there were plenty to choose from.

As much as she hated to keep running to "daddy," it was downright foolish not to take advantage of his knowledge and experience.

He promised to support her efforts.

It was also an open invitation to tell her what to do.

Okay.

She'd ask.

In an email.

It was less intrusive and if he thought it was stupid, she wouldn't have to listen.

Avoid that condescending tone she knew too well.

With that, she forwarded Carlson's email with a note asking what he thought. Not necessarily with this guy, but the concept.

The more she thought about it, the more she liked it.

Sue the bastards.

They deserved it.

She'd barely hit "Send" when her phone rang. She laughed out loud. Her father tended toward strong feelings with opinions to match. Did she want to hear them?

Maybe, maybe not.

But she'd thrown it out there.

She answered with forced cheerfulness.

"Hi, Dad. That was quick."

"That's an excellent idea, Sara. Maybe not with this one, though. You need a major law firm with plenty of capital to support an in-depth investigation. Let me do some checking and get back to you."

"That's great! I wasn't sure what you'd think, but wanted your thoughts."

"Money talks. Hit people like that in the pocketbook and it gets attention. It would certainly be satisfying to put the people who did this out of business even if we can't put them behind bars."

"Amen to that. By the way, did you ever get in touch with those Judicial Guardian watchdog people?"

"Yes. They were sympathetic, agreed it was outrageous, and put it on their list. But like everything else these days, it's all about funding. They're understaffed, so they're not in a position to take on anything else. Needless to say anyone fighting corruption these days has a target-rich environment. So it's doubtful they'll do you any good."

"Oh. That's too bad. I could give them a pretty substantial donation if they decided to take it on."

"I mentioned that. I think being understaffed is their biggest issue. It speaks to their integrity not to take the money, then do nothing."

"So, what did you think of my interview?"

"Nice job. You presented yourself very well. But watch your back. Messing with people of this caliber is dangerous. And along those lines, I'm hiring you a bodyguard."

She jolted upright in the chair. "Wow! Isn't that expensive?"

"You're worth it. And the more noise you make, the more you'll need one. It's possible you'll become quite a celebrity. And there are all flavors of nut cakes out there."

"No argument there."

"I'm looking for recommendations from some people I know. I assume you'd like to sit in on the interviews."

"Absolutely. If I'm going to be around this person a lot he needs to be someone I can tolerate."

"Right. Furthermore, like I told Connie, I'd hate for you to shoot him."

She laughed. "I might. Especially if he's annoying. Like some of those PIs on TV."

"I'll see if Thomas Magnum is available. How's that?"

"Now that I could handle."

"Figured as much. I'll keep you posted."