Joe shook his head and crossed his arms. “At the scene you said there was a guy in the passenger seat next to you, but you couldn’t remember much about him. Has anything else come to you?”
Mason sighed, looking exhausted. “Yeah, I was pretty out of it. It’s still a little fuzzy, but parts are coming back. He was fumbling around on the floorboard, but he took off when a woman approached the driver’s side door. He had shaggy dark brown hair and was wearing an army jacket.” Mason closed his eyes. “I don’t remember much about his face besides that he was clean-shaven.”
“Anything else?”
Mason glanced up at Joe, hesitating. “I got a pretty good knock to the head, so I can’t be sure I saw this part correctly. It came to me while I was having my CT scan.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you remember, and let me deduce if it was something you hallucinated?”
Mason shot a look to me, then back to Joe. “I’m fairly certain he had a gun.”
“Do you think he intended to use it?”
“Yes.”
Joe exhaled and ran his hand through his hair. “So Plan A was to run you off the road in the hope the crash would kill you, making your death look like an accident. Which was incredibly stupid,” Joe grunted. “You’re the ADA. They were overlooking the fact that we’d do a thorough investigation. Unlike the Henryetta Police and Rose’s—” Joe stopped as he realized what he was saying.
“Unlike how the Henryetta Police handled Dora’s accident,” I finished, feeling light-headed. My birth mother had died as the result of a car accident. The Henryetta police hadn’t put much effort into an investigation, despite speculation her brakes had been cut.
Joe nodded, not looking happy about it.
“What was Plan B?” I asked. “You said Plan A was to have him die in an accident.”
Joe hesitated, uncrossing his arms. “The gun. He was going to shoot him.”
“So that’s why he was in the car with Mason?” I asked, trying not to freak out. We were discussing Mason’s attempted murder as though we were talking about the chance of rain at a church picnic. “So what was he looking for on the floorboards?”
“Mason’s phone.”
“Why would he want Mason’s phone?”
Neither man answered.
“They didn’t finish the job. So they’re going to try again, which is what I just saw in my vision,” I said.
“Rose,” Mason said, determination in his eyes. “I could use a cup of coffee. Could you get me one?”
“No.” I shook my head, glaring up at him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Rose . . .”
“Does this have to do with the breakin at the farm last night?”
Joe hesitated before answering, “Possibly.”
“What were they looking for? Who’s doing this?”
“Rose,” Joe said, apologetically. “It’s official business. It would be easier for all of us if you took a short walk.”
“No. It’s official business that could get Mason killed. I have a right to know.”
“I’m sorry.” His eyes softened. “Not this time, you don’t.”
I stood, so furious I could spit. I turned to Joe. “Did your father do this?”
His eyes widened. “What?”
“Did your father try to have Mason killed?”
His face lost all expression.
“Mason was gathering information on your father to stop him from hurting me. Did J.R. find out and try to stop him?”
Joe’s body stiffened. “My father isn’t this sloppy. If he wanted Mason dead, he’d be dead already.”
I put my hands on my hips, anger singing through my blood. “That’s reassuring.”
Fury lit up Joe’s eyes. “This is official Fenton County business, Ms. Gardner, and despite your delusions of being a super sleuth, you are not on the Fenton County payroll.” He pointed to the door and yelled, “Now go.”
“That’s enough, Simmons,” Mason barked.
I stepped closer to Joe, clenching my fists at my side. “I’m not giving up, Joe.”
Joe stood his ground. “No, you never do.”
I stomped out the door and into the hallway, pacing outside the door and straining to hear what they were talking about. It didn’t take a minute before they started arguing.
“. . . knew this was a possibility!” Joe shouted.
Mason said something I didn’t understand, followed by Joe’s low voice.
“What about Rose?” Mason’s voice boomed. “How can you be so short-sighted?”
Their voices were too low to understand. What were they talking about?
Soon after there was more shouting, this time from Joe. “I’m the chief deputy sheriff! Let me do my damned job!”
I tried to hear more, but their voices lowered again. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out, surprised to see it was Skeeter. “I told you to text me.” I moved farther down the hall, keeping my eye on Mason’s door.
“This is too important to leave to a text. Meet me in the hospital chapel.”
I shook my head, glancing around. “What? How do you know I’m at the hospital?”
“I know someone tried to kill Deveraux and that he’s at the hospital. It makes sense that you’d be here.”
“How did you know someone tried to kill him?”