“No shit,” I reply, not caring to watch my language or stay professional with the big boss. Not when I’ve been named in a lawsuit against Everlife.

Yvette Horne actually did it. Since Sheriff Barnes closed the case on Richard’s death, deeming it due to natural causes, a.k.a. a heart attack over his morning breakfast, Yvette’s beyond ready to get her grubby little hands on the claim payout.

And apparently, she’s done waiting.

I wonder if Barnes’s agreeing to look into the case again, however unofficially, has anything to do with the fire she’s lighting?

“Does she even realize that our standard process is three months? And that’s when cause of death is cut and dry. Something Richard’s most definitely wasn’t.”

“I told the lawyer that, but he kept saying, and I quote, ‘my client is entitled to these benefits, and Everlife is needlessly prolonging the process in an attempt to avoid payout.’ I swear it was like he was reading from a cue card or a teleprompter or something. Maybe he’s new?” He pauses, humming thoughtfully, “Or flipping it around, trying to make it seem like he is so we underestimate him?”

Frederick is twisted enough that he sometimes sees it in others well before anyone else clues in to it. Playing things smart and slick is how he got to the table of big dogs at the corporate office, so I respect his expertise.

“I don’t know,” I tell Frederick as I scan the court filings he emailed me that name Holland Monroe as Yvette’s attorney. “He’s local, but I’ve never heard of him. Want me to ask around?”

“No, we’ve got our legal team on it.” The threat is clear that Frederick expects our corporate team to outgun some local schmuck attorney easily. “Just be ready to testify next week.”

“Next week? How in the hell did she get a hearing that soon?”

Court cases usually take weeks of depositions, hearings, mediation, and getting court dates. Not a week.

“Guess the courts aren’t too busy out there in Hicksville,” he says snidely. “Not enough land disputes and baby daddy drama, I guess.”

“It’s not that bad.” I try to defend Williamson County, but he cuts me off.

“Just keep your paperwork and evidence tight, Blake. We can get a drink afterward and discuss your future in the company.”

I hear the truth. If this case goes well, I’m set. Maybe I’ll even get opportunities for bigger and better contracts that would mean I’m not constantly chasing new clients and business, filming commercials with Amy in corn fields.

If it doesn’t go well, I might as well let the children of the corn take me because I’m as good as dead either way.

“Sure, Frederick. Sounds great.”

* * *

The phone rings in my ear for the third time.

Why isn’t Zoey answering my calls?