Page 139 of Nash Falls

When he eyed the scales of justice on his chest and abdomen his mood grew somber.

Will I ever get justice? Will Maggie?

The shields on his thighs made his skin look metallic. The dice on his calves seemed to shimmy as he walked or flexed his muscles.

He dipped his head slightly and then turned it side to side tostudy the chain and kinks in the mirror. They obviously represented him and his family, still tied together in love no matter what. With this thought tears leaked down his cheeks. He brushed them away, and went to do his work for the day.

He felt like a new man.

And damn if Walter Nash wasn’t.

CHAPTER

67

DUDE IS REALLY BRINGING ITlately,” said Jackson. “I mean, even more than usual. Think he can see the end of the tunnel coming. Maybe with a train coming, too,” he muttered under his breath.

He and Shock were in the kitchen of the training facility having their dinner. There was a TV show on to which they were only half paying attention.

“Must be the tats and the bald head,” quipped Shock. He rubbed his scalp. “Worked for me,” he added with a laugh.

“Seriously, though, he’s looking like a real weapon now.”

“Told you, man. He’s learned way more than folks I’ve been drillin’ for ten years.”

“But he’s never killed anybody, Isaiah. You and me know that’s the real deal. And I don’t think the boy’s there. I really don’t. He was hammering me today, but when I pretended that he’d really hurt me, he pulled back; probably didn’t even know he had, but he did. That ain’t good if he’s going to do what he needs to do.”

Shock sat back, his gleeful expression melting away. “I know. I saw that shit, too. And I’m not sure what to do about it. It’s not like I can call a friend and have him come here so Walter can kill him for real.”

Jackson shook his head. “Please don’t tell me that over a year’s worth of fifteen-hour days has been for nothing.”

“I can’t answer that. Not yet.”

“Where is he now?”

“Went for a run.”

“He worked his ass off all day. And he went for a run?”

“What did I tell you ’bout his daddy’s motor? See, I think that acorn fell right at the base of that mighty oak.”

“Well, let’s hope he can make it the last mile, which is the only one that matters.”

Shock nodded and glanced over at the TV when a news anchor abruptly interrupted the program that had been on.

When Shock saw the picture that was on the screen, he forgot about everything else.

Nash was running on the track that encircled the facility. One time around was half a mile. He had done it six times and didn’t really feel tired. He had never been in this kind of physical shape before, and it was like he awoke each morning with a sense of renewed purpose bolstered by a nearly inhuman amount of energy. He had turned forty-one months ago and he felt like he was twenty-one.

Each night he still diligently checked all the news feeds and social media platforms for any possible news about Maggie. He had also kept tabs on the investigation around Barton Temple’s death. He was now convinced that Rhett had been behind it. He had inherited billions from his father, and Nash had also learned that Rhett had gained control of the board and reinstalled himself as CEO after pushing Elaine Fixx out. She had then taken over Nash’s old position, or so the business news had dutifully reported.

He outmaneuvered his father and Fixx somehow. But then kept Fixx on for some reason.

He wasn’t speculating here about Rhett outsmarting his father. Barton had told him that at his death Nash would become the CEO with Fixx as the backup. Barton had then confided in Nash that he had taken pains to have the necessary legal documents drafted and executed to carry out that wish.

If Rhett had managed to undo all that, then Nash had to reevaluate his appraisal of the man. He clearly was cagier and more strategicthan Nash had given him credit for. If they were to meet up again, Nash would need to build that reevaluation into his own strategy.

Nash had, despite Shock’s warnings, communicated with Agent Morris on several occasions. He felt guilty about disobeying his friend’s wishes, but Nash was, if nothing else, a practical man. He needed information, and only the Bureau could provide it.