Benjamin Monroe shifted stacks of papers, searching for his phone. His desk cluttered, his life had fallen into utter chaos in a matter of days. Rubbing his face roughly with his right hand, he clenched the left into a tight fist, then slammed it down on the mess before him. I have to do something, but what? He was in deep, and the odds of getting out were mounting against him.

Locating the device, he lifted the receiver and made the call. “Yes; Gerald Ford, please.” Listening to faint music, he waited. “Hello? Yes, I need to speak to Gary, please.”

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Ford is out for the afternoon,” Agnus explained over the line.

“Oh,” Ben gasped, slapped by the news. “Will he be in tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say,” the older woman replied. “He wasn’t feeling well, so maybe tomorrow, but I’m not sure.”

“Ok, I’ll try back in the morning,” Ben agreed, ending the connection and dropping the phone into the cradle. Pushing back from his desk, he picked up his coat and slid his arms in while exiting the inner office. Pausing to speak to the young woman seated in front of the portal, he smoothed his hair and straightened his tie.

“Can you get me Gerald Ford’s home address?” he asked in as casual a tone as he could muster.

“Yes, sir,” his new receptionist, Diane, replied with a smile. Printing the page, she presented it to her boss. “Would you like to set up an appointment with him?”

“No,” Ben clipped, studying the information. “I gave him a call, but he’s out for the afternoon.”

Looking up at her employer, the young woman had only held her position a few days, and she had her doubts about certain things. She felt confident interrogating her benefactor about his intentions would be crossing the line, so she left it at that and returned to her work. Ignoring her, Ben walked slowly towards the front door and out to the street, while folding the page in half a few times and tucking it inside an inner pocket.

At his vehicle, the middle-aged attorney slid behind the wheel of his shiny black BMW. His mind turning his options, he felt sick; sick of the mess he had created for himself. Will dragging Gary Ford into this do any good? he quibbled mentally. He isn’t part of the community at the city offices any longer. But the man had the knowledge and skills that could save Ben’s ass, if anyone could.

Making the necessary turns, he arrived on a narrow street half an hour later. Rolling slowly past the large, stately structure that had been in the Ford family for generations, he glared at it, as if he could see through the walls. Diverting his attention back to the road, his heart leapt into his throat as Gary’s SUV glided past, with Caroline Baker seated in the passenger seat. “What the hell?” he muttered out loud. Pulling over to park against the curb, he grabbed the rear-view mirror and twisted it to watch the vehicle turn into the familiar drive and disappear. Blinking a few times, as if the scene would change, his breaths came in quick, shallow pants.

“Caroline knows,” he mumbled. “She has to. That’s why she quit all of a sudden.” But how, he couldn’t be certain. He had only caught on that something wasn’t right a few days ago, and his former secretary had already pulled her little disappearing act. “Maybe she’s working for them,” he surmised aloud.

Moving up the street, Ben swung the car around and parked facing his target. He couldn’t knock on the door, not knowing why Gary and Caroline were together, but he could wait for a chance to get the other man alone and confront him. Either way, there wouldn’t be any point in going back to the office until he had done a bit of hardcore thinking about a few of his clients; the ones he knew were shady at best, and most likely to kill him just to shut him up.

Laying the seat back a bit, Ben leaned against his arm and closed his eyes. Slowly, he replayed the discovery he had made only four days ago; the discovery that had meant his life would never be the same. He had always suspected that some of his clients were not on the up and up, but he had never intentionally helped anyone commit or even cover up a crime.

Intentionally. He scoffed at the word. Fat lot of good it does me now. He had been helping one of his clients last week with filing some paperwork; claims about a fire that had destroyed one of his buildings. That in itself wasn’t unusual; there had been several such instances over the years and dealing with such unfortunate tasks were part of the job.

Shuddering, he recalled the instant the name on the official report sank in; Harvey Waters. He had seen the name before. Pushing the recognition aside, he had finished the filing and had the case completed. For all practical purposes, the matter had been settled on Thursday; but on Friday, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

That’s when he started digging. Locating three other cases he had filed, all involving fires over the last two years, he had found the name Harvey Waters attached to all of them. Son of a bitch.

Opening his eyes, Ben stared down the road in the fading light. “This isn’t getting me anywhere,” he mumbled, sitting up straight in his seat and biting his knuckle for a moment. “I should just suck it up and go down there. Hell, it’d be better than sitting here waiting.”

Half an hour later, he cranked the engine and eased down the road, making the turn into the private drive and cutting off the lights as he parked behind Gary’s ancient house.