Chapter 4 - The Wyoming Retrieval
The wind in Jackson Hole was cold enough to bite through wool.
Leo and I drove a rented four-wheel-drive SUV up a winding, snow-dusted road toward the ranch owned by Toby Henderson. The peaks of the Grand Tetons rose against the grey winter sky like jagged teeth.
"Are you ready for this, Nora?" Leo asked as he negotiated a sharp turn. "Henderson has a lot to lose if he talks. He’s been living on Voss money for two years."
"He has more to lose if he goes to federal prison for conspiracy," I said, staring out at the snow-laden pines. "Toby was always a nervous man. He had a family—a wife and two young daughters. He didn't want to cover up the fire, but Reginald Voss gave him a choice between a comfortable retirement and a career-ending scandal. I think he’s been waiting for someone to force him to tell the truth."
We pulled up to the rustic, log-cabin ranch house. Within minutes, we were sitting in Henderson’s warm living room, a roaring fire crackling in the hearth.
Toby Henderson looked like a man who had been sleeping with one eye open. He was fifty, his hair completely white, his hands trembling slightly as he poured us coffee.
"I knew this day would come when I saw the news about your wedding, Nora," Toby said, sitting opposite us. "Reginald and Julian... they think they can buy everything. But you can't buy a clean conscience."
"We have the wire transfer codes, Toby," I said, placing the document I had taken from the wedding on the coffee table between us. "We know the money came from Voss Industrial. We just need you to confirm who authorized the payments to the inspectors."
Toby stared at the paper, a deep, heavy sigh escaping his chest. "It was Julian. His father gave the order, but Julian was the one who physically signed the authorization forms for the shell companies. He wanted to prove to his father that he could handle the 'dirty work' of the family empire."
Leo leaned forward, his voice calm but filled with the authority of a former federal prosecutor. "If you testify before the grand jury, Toby, we can offer you limited immunity. If you wait for the subpoenas to force your hand, you will be indicted as a co-conspirator."
Toby looked out the window at his ranch, where his daughters were playing with a golden retriever in the snow.
"I’ll do it," Toby whispered. "I don't want my girls growing up thinking their father was a coward who let two men burn to death for a paycheck."
As we walked back to our SUV, the snow began to fall faster, a white curtain closing over the mountains.
"We have them, Nora," Leo said, turning to look at me before opening his door. "The grand jury will indict by the end of the week."
I looked at Leo, the cold wind whipping my hair across my face. For the first time in five years, the heavy, suffocating weight of the Voss family felt like it was finally lifting from my shoulders.
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"Thank you, Leo," I said.
"You did this, Nora," he said, his hand reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from my cheek. His touch was warm, a sharp contrast to the cold wind. "I just drove the car."
