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slashed. Angry notes and phone calls. This case has stirred up some hard feelings in town.”
    Jared felt his stomach churn. “Why all the emotion?”
    “The bank’s causing it, far as I can tell.” Mort huffed. “Seeding the local paper with articles about how the case could break the bank. Saying if the bank collapsed, farmers’ loans would be picked up by tougher managers who’d be more aggressive on foreclosures; hurt the local economy. That kind of thing.”
    Jared tried to shut off a rush of memories and emotions. Why would he step back into that morass in Ashley again? Ten million reasons, he told himself. At least he had to take the next step.
    “Can I come pick up the file on my way to Erin’s place?”
    “Sure. I’ve got a legal intern who’s taking a year off from Hamline Law School to get some experience. Great young gal, quite sharp. Rachel Langer. I’ll have her pull it together for you.”
    Jared thanked Mort and said he’d be there soon.
    “Listen, Jared,” Mort continued before he hung up. “You know these Paisley jerks, so maybe it’ll be different for you. But if you’re gonna jump into the middle of this war, be forewarned. These guys are working the case like it’s very, very personal.”

    Mick Elgart’s cell phone rang, waking him from a nap on his living room couch. He rubbed a hand over his face and blinked his eyes to read the number. Clearing his throat, he answered. “Yeah.”
    “Hello? Hello? This is Rachel.” Her voice was a low whisper.
    “Okay, Rachel. Speak up. I can barely hear you. Are you somewhere you can be overheard?”
    There was a pause. “No, I guess not.”
    Mick shook his head. “Okay, then stop whispering. What is it?”
    “There’s a guy picking up the file from Goering’s office. The Larson file.”
    “All right, Rachel. Who is it?”
    “His name is Jared Neaton.”
    “Is he taking over the case?”
    “I don’t know. I just know he’s picking up the file.”
    “How soon is he coming?”
    “Hmm? Oh, he’s here. He’s loading up his car right now.”
    “Do you know where he’s going after he’s got the file?”
    “I heard him tell Mr. Goering that he was heading up to Ashley to meet the—to meet Erin Larson.”
    Mick was trying to think, but Rachel went on. “So, am I done here? Because I want to be done here.”
    The whine irritated Mick, and he leaned back on the couch. How to respond? Rachel had been a necessary pain since she’d answered his Craigslist ad for a legal assistant last spring. He’d offered her five times the wage any law clerk could ever earn if she would “volunteer” at the Goering firm. The whining had grown more shrill as he’d pressed her to report deeper confidential information each week about the Larson case. It didn’t matter: by then he knew she was addicted to the cash.
    Could he set her free now? If he did, was there a risk she’d turn on him—talk to Goering or the police?
    Yes, he concluded, he could set her free. And no, she wasn’t a risk. If the Larson file was leaving Goering, there was little point in keeping her on the payroll. As for her turning—that wouldn’t happen. He knew her type well enough. She’d convince herself that he was the evil in the equation. In a month or two she’d also convince herself that nothing she’d done was serious and push it out of her mind.
    “Yes, Rachel, you can quit now. Your final cash will be in your mailbox next week. Good luck with law school.”
    The line went silent. She was headed for the right diploma, Mick thought as he turned off his own phone. She’d make some lawyer.

6

    E rin was not what Jared had expected. She met him in front of the farmhouse wrapped in a white ski jacket, wearing jeans and a baseball cap. She was slim and pretty, with curly auburn hair bunched in a ponytail. It took a few seconds before he realized what it was: There was too much “city” about her, standing in the shadow of the silo. She didn’t fit against the