“Why?” Getting a substantive answer out of Charlie was like pulling teeth. Also, what deep, dark secret could he have?

“Graham had an investigator talk to my ex-wife. She’s not my biggest fan, and she’s looking for a reason to deny visitation rights.”

“Why would Graham do that?”

“There’s a doctor in my department who expected to get my job. He’s trying to prove he’s the more qualified candidate, and that I got the job through nepotism.” Charlie had moved back to Kansas City to run a department at St. Mark’s Hospital. “It’s ridiculous. But Adams hired Graham. If he wins, I could lose my job. Maybe my kids.”

“When did you threaten him?”

“Last night.” Charlie shifted in his saddle. “But it was just a threat. I’m in the business of saving lives, not taking them.”

“What happened?”

“Graham told Charlie the lawsuit and investigation weren’t personal,” said Libba. “He said Charlie needed to lighten up.”

We’d reached the trees and riding abreast wasn’t possible on the narrow path through the woods. We slipped into a line. Charlie went first, then me, then Libba.

“The lawsuit and investigation feel damn personal to me.” Charlie twisted in his saddle and gave me—no, Libba—a look. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew the Landinghams would be here.”

“I didn’t know.” She sounded aggrieved, as if she’d heard that complaint already.

“Who exactly put this weekend together?” I asked.

“Liz and Willa,” Libba replied. “I never dreamed they’d invite Graham and Sumner. Graham was trying to oust Thatch as managing partner and he stole Perry’s biggest client. Why would they include them?”

It didn’t make sense. Not unless…Nope. My mind wasn’t going there.

“Charlie, what did you say to Graham?”

“I told him what I thought of him,” he replied.

“Graham replied that if he hadn’t taken the case, another lawyer would have,” said Libba.

I had yet to hear a threat. “And?”

“I told him he’d get what was coming to him.”

“That’s it?”

“I did not tell him I’d knife him in the back. Which is what he did to me. I’ve known the man my whole life, and he betrayed me for a quick buck.” Charlie’s horse tossed its head.

“Ease up on the reins,” Libba advised.

Charlie ducked his chin and loosened his hold on his mount’s mouth.

Dappled sunlight pebbled our path. My saddle creaked. Charlie’s horse whinnied. The morning seemed almost perfect—except for the dead lawyer and the man ahead of me, who’d threatened said lawyer. The night before the murder.

“How long has it been since you’ve ridden trails?” asked Libba.

“Too long. Don’t change the subject.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Ellison. Charlie got mad at Graham. He said something foolish, but he didn’t mean it—”