“Why?”
More hesitation, then, “How can I trust you?”
“You can’t,” she replied simply. “As I said, if someone else was with me, they’d have taken you out by now. But that’s not the case. I’m alone, and I only want your help.”
She didn’t point out that he was back far enough that even if she did attempt to disarm him, she couldn’t without him firing on her.
His face was ashen, and he seemed to wrestle with what to do. Then he nodded at her.
“Tell me what happened at the bank.”
Taking as little time as possible, Jo told him about the robbery and how she’d been suspicious of a couple of the employees. She didn’t given names, but told him about the man who’d threatened Sabrina, and how that had led her to Trent Fontenot. She concluded with, “Was Trent working on something that might’ve gotten him murdered?”
“Why do you say that?”
He was good at playing nonchalant, pretending as if he didn’t know more. She pointed that out as well.
“Who are you scared of?” she asked. “There’s a reason why you’re not calling the police.”
“They can’t protect me. Look what happened to Trent.”
“Tell me what’s going on.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“Find who murdered him.”
Atchison’s mouth twisted as he again seemed to consider his options. Upon closer inspection, he looked weary. There were black crescents under his eyes, and his shoulders slumped. At last, he lowered the gun as well, as if defeated.
“Trent was my friend, and they killed him.”
“Who?” she asked softly.
“JD Babineaux.”
Jo’s mind raced, but she couldn’t place the name. “Who’s he?”
“You’re not from around here?”
She shook her head. “I got out of the military a while back, and I’ve been traveling the country. Not keeping up much on the news, either.”
“Babineaux’s a big oilman, a well-known figure in Texas. There’s talk he may get into politics.” He sneered. “Of course, the man’s power-hungry.”
“Why are you afraid of him?”
Atchison stared at her. “You wouldn’t be asking me all these questions if you were with him.”
“Right. Trent had something on Babineaux?”
It took him a moment to answer. “Trent had been researching Babineaux, long before he started working at the station. I didn’t even know he had any interest in the man until about six months ago. Trent asked me to go to lunch, and he told me he had stuff on Babineaux, something big that would ruin the man’s career. It was the kind of story that could change Trent’s career. Or threaten it.”
“What did he have on Babineaux?”
He shrugged. “Trent wouldn’t tell me much, said that the less I knew, the safer I would be. But Babineaux’s into some bad things, things that were being covered up.”
“You have to know something.”
“There’s some stuff with women that would ruin Babineaux’s squeaky clean reputation. But Trent had recently discovered more than that, proof of illegal activities, and he’d been verifying his sources. He told me to give him a little more time, and then he’d tell me everything.”
“You don’t know what this illegal stuff was?” she pressed.
Atchison shook his head. “I started doing some of my own digging. I didn’t find anything, except a lot of people who told me I should be very careful, that he was the kind of person who could ruin me. And a couple of weeks ago, I wondered if I was being followed, and Trent thought the same thing. We were both worried. I told him he needed to let me know what was going on so that we could figure out what to do. He kept saying he needed more time, that he was close. And then he was murdered.”
“By Babineaux?”
He snorted. “His people. There’s no way anything would lead back to him.”
“Any way to prove your suspicions?”
“I don’t have anything, otherwise I’d tell the police.”
“They talked to you about Trent?”
He nodded. “I didn’t tell them anything about what he was working on.”
“Why not?”
Another derisive noise. “I told you, they can’t protect me. Look what happened to Trent. If I told the police anything, I’d be dead.” He glanced toward the closed kitchen blinds. “Hell, I may be anyway.”
