It won't be fast. Building a case like this takes time, gathering evidence, getting testimonies, finding witnesses willing to go on record. We're talking weeks, maybe months." " Evelyn has 5 days before they seize her house. Then we'll need to file for an emergency injunction, temporary restraining order to halt the seizure while we investigate.
Douglas straightened up, looked at William. I'm going to need use of the church office, computer, printer, phone, space to work. Done, William said immediately. Douglas looked at Garrett. And I'm going to need you to convince at least 10 of those families to testify.
10 separate incidents, 10 separate contracts, 10 separate cases of usury and fraud. That's enough to establish pattern and practice, enough to get federal attention. I'll get them. You don't know that. These people are terrified.
They've been threatened, intimidated, broken down. Getting them to speak up I'll get them, Garrett repeated. Because the alternative is watching Wade Kimball destroy another 43 families over the next 12 years. And I'm done watching. Douglas studied him.
Reading something. Deciding something. All right, he said finally. All right, we'll try. But Garrett, you need to understand what you're starting here.
Wade won't take this lying down. The moment he finds out people are organizing against him, he'll escalate. He'll get vicious. He'll come after you specifically because you're the one holding this together. Are you ready for that?
Garrett thought about it. Really thought about it. About his house, his savings, his quiet life of engines and solitude. Then he thought about Evelyn's face when those two men had cornered her. About the bruises on her wrist.
About 43 families crushed under Wade's heel. About Kate's voice. Don't let your heart get as hard as the bolts you turn. I'm ready, he said. Then we start tomorrow.
First Baptist, 8:00 a.m. Bring Evelyn's contract. Bring any other documentation you can get. We've got work to do. They left Douglas standing in his doorway. The old prosecutor watched them go outlined against the darkness of his house.
For the first time in 8 years, something in his eyes looked alive. On the drive back, William said, you know what you just did. Started a fight I might not win. Gave a broken man a reason to get out of bed. Gave him purpose.
Gave him redemption. William glanced over. Same thing you did for yourself, whether you realize it or not. Garrett didn't answer. Just watched the streets of Ridgmont slide past.
Familiar streets, safe streets, home. Except home wasn't safe anymore. Not for Evelyn, not for 22 other families, not for anyone as long as Wade Kimball operated with impunity. That night Garrett couldn't sleep. He lay in bed, Kate's side still empty, still cold, still a daily reminder of absence, and stared at the ceiling.
At 11:30, Sarge started barking. Urgent, continuous. The same bark he'd used when the intruder had broken in 5 years ago. Garrett was out of bed instantly. Shotgun from the closet, shells loaded.
Moved to the window. Outside a car was idling in the street, headlights off, engine running. Black sedan. Same one from this morning. Garrett watched, waited.
The car sat there for 5 minutes. Not moving, just present. A message. We know where you live. We're watching.
Then it drove away. Slow, unhurried, confident. Garrett lowered the shotgun. His hands were steady. No fear, no rage, just cold calculation.
Wade had made his first move. Sending his people to watch, to intimidate, to remind Garrett that he was vulnerable. But Wade had made a mistake. He'd assumed fear would work, assumed an old man would back down, assumed threats were enough. Wade didn't know about Desert Storm, didn't know about 7 months in combat, didn't know about the kind of fear that came from artillery fire and chemical weapon alerts, and the absolute certainty that today might be the day you don't go home.
A black sedan idling in the street. That wasn't fear. That was Tuesday. Garrett went back to bed. Sarge settled on the floor beside him.
Guard mode never quite turning off. Both of them alert in the darkness. Tomorrow they'd start gathering the families. Start building the case. Start the long process of taking down Wade Kimball.
But tonight, tonight Wade had shown his hand. Had revealed that he knew about Garrett. Knew he was a threat. Good. Let him know.
Let him worry. Let him wonder what an old mechanic with a dog and a sense of right and wrong could possibly do to hurt a man who owned a town. Wade would find out soon enough. The next morning, Garrett started making calls. The first number on William's list belonged to a couple named Patterson, Robert and Linda, both 74.
They'd lost their home 3 years ago to Wade's loan. Now lived in a small apartment on the south side of town. Robert answered on the fourth ring. Voice wary, suspicious. Mr. Patterson, my name is Garrett Holloway.
Pastor William gave me your number. I'm calling about Wade Kimball. Silence on the other end. Then I don't talk about that. I understand, but I'm gathering people who've been hurt by Wade, building a case, legal case, federal prosecutors involved, and I need The line went dead.
Garrett tried again. Same result. Robert wouldn't even let him finish a sentence. The second call went to a widow named Margaret Sterling, 68. Lost her husband to suicide after Wade seized their property.
She listened to Garrett's pitch. Then said very quietly, Mr. Holloway, my husband put a gun in his mouth because of what Wade did to us. Because of the shame. Because he couldn't face me anymore. If I testify, if I speak against Wade, he'll make sure everyone knows every detail of how we failed.
How we lost everything. He'll drag my husband's name through the mud. I can't do that to his memory. I'm sorry. She hung up.