“Trust me, I know.” He paused and took a sip of his coffee. “You know as well as I do, we’re a private company. We don’t have the big government backing, but we’re almost there. So very close. People believe in this project and have put their money where their mouth is.” His fingers flexed around his glass. “I can’t fail, Lewis, I won’t fail.”

“I hope not. I’ve got a lot invested in this myself. Even more so now that Dustin is gone. Just like you can’t fail, his death can’t be in vain.”

“Of course not.” Marshall blew out a slow breath and Lewis could feel the man’s passion in an almost tangible way. “Enough about that. How’s Rochelle? Is she recovering?”

“Physically.”

“Mentally?”

Lewis shook his head. “I don’t know. She still won’t speak to me. I haven’t seen her since she was released from the hospital. Caden keeps me updated about once a day.” He sipped his coffee. “And if she knew that, she’d probably smash his phone and leave his house.”

Marshall frowned. “That’s not good.”

“She’s always been able to hold a grudge, but she’ll eventually come around.” Maybe. “At least she always has before.” But he’d never done anything quite like this to her. “We’ve never been close, though. She was a mama’s girl. And after Tara died, Rochelle just went wild. Did everything she could to destroy her reputation—and mine. She wouldn’t listen to a thing I said.”

“When you were around to say it?”

Lewis scowled, and his friend held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Don’t shoot. You said yourself that you weren’t really around.”

“Trust me, I know.” Lewis cleared his throat and glanced at the two men who sat close by. His security detail. “Gavin said someone tried to run them off the road yesterday. Shot up his truck.”

Marshall stilled. “What?”

“Local police were called in, but CID’s taking over the investigation since there’s the possibility it could be related to the threats against me.”

“I see. So, when are you headed back into the fray?”

“My leave is up in another week. I’m using the time to do a little investigating of my own, since Rochelle won’t have anything to do with me.”

“Investigating what? The shooting?”

The general shook his head. “Dustin’s supposed suicide.”

“Supposed?”

“It’s just a theory. A crazy one probably.”

“Want to share?”

Lewis hesitated, then filled him in on Caden’s last visit with Dustin. Marshall listened intently. “But he jumped.”

“I know.”

“Is there the possibility he was pushed?”

“No. The security footage is very clear—and it’s not doctored, according to CID.”

“Then I’m confused.”

“Join the club.”

Silence fell between them. “So, what are you going to do?” Marshall finally asked.