Taken by the Foreman

I spent eleven months building a file against the Vega family. Then the file noticed me. They didn't send a lawyer. They sent a foreman. Wade Kessler runs their ranch like a business and their other work like a funeral. He has calloused hands and a locked jaw and a debt he's been paying quietly for years. He is supposed to keep me in a house until they decide what to do with me. He kept me. We don't talk about why. We don't talk about the money he skims, or the brother he lost, or the way he watches me when he thinks I'm asleep. We talk about feed schedules and truck routes and how to make two people disappear without a body. They're coming for me on Saturday. He told me that with his mouth closed. I know what he's going to do. I helped him plan it. The only thing I don't know is whether either of us walks out.