'He did. I've learned that Billy Bob Barnett was the client he referenced.'

'Professor, I don't know what Nathan thought he found, but it wasn't evidence of groundwater contamination. Frack well holes are encased in redundant layers of steel and cement. Billy Bob doesn't cut corners with his drilling.' He chuckled. 'h.e.l.l, Billy Bob's a walking Aggie joke-he's too dumb to be a crook.'

'But he's rich enough to hire your firm. How much does he pay you each year?'

'That's confidential, Professor.'

But he couldn't restrain a thin smile.

'Eighteen million last fiscal year.'

'That buys a lot of loyalty from a lawyer.'

'Part of the job description.'

'Nathan said in his letter that he brought your client's contamination to your attention.'

'He didn't.'

'Wonder why he said he did?'

'I don't know.'

'May I look in his office?'

'You know better than that, Professor. Client confidentiality.'

Tom Dunn stood and walked to the window. He was a tall, gray-haired man who seemed as hard as the land. He gestured at West Texas beyond the plate gla.s.s.

'See all those pump jacks pumping oil out of the ground twenty-four/seven? You know what that means around here, Professor? Jobs. MidlandOdessa, we're booming again. One hundred and fifty thousand producing wells in the Permian Basin. Thirty-six billion a year in revenues. That pays a lot of wages to a lot of workers. But not that long ago those pump jacks were still, the wells shut in, workers sitting idle, oil field equipment rusting on the side of the interstate. Old wells and low prices, couldn't produce enough oil to make economic sense. Billy Bob changed all that.'

'How?'

'Fracking.'

'On oil wells?'

'You bet. See, he grew up in Odessa, his dad was a roughneck. Billy Bob decided he wanted to own the oil not just work the oil. So he went to A&M, got a degree in petroleum engineering. Learned about hydraulic fracturing. Fracking's been around sixty years, but no one thought about reworking these old oil wells with fracking, going deeper, going horizontal, to open up the reservoir to let more oil out faster. Billy Bob did. Now everyone is. Then he started fracking for natural gas before anyone else. He knows more about fracking than anyone in Texas, which means anyone in the world. Fracking started right out there.'

He turned from the window.

'Point is, Professor, folks around here are real happy to have work again. They need the jobs. They're not going to take kindly to some liberal law professor messing with their livelihoods.'

'Is that a threat?'

'An observation.'

'I'm not liberal.'

'You're sure as h.e.l.l not conservative.'

'What's Billy Bob?'

'Rich.'

'He's taking people's land for his pipelines.'

'Which is perfectly legal in Texas, as you well know.'

'Legal doesn't mean right.'

'Please, Professor, this isn't first-year law school.'

'I heard the landowners aren't too happy.'

Tom Dunn shrugged. 'h.e.l.l, I wouldn't be either.'

'Nathan was handling those lawsuits. Think one of the landowners might've run him off the road because of that?'

Dunn shook his head. 'Too much trouble. If they wanted to kill Nathan, they would've just shot him. This is West Texas, Professor. Everyone's got a gun. Or ten.'

'Mind if I meet with your client?'

'Yes, I do mind.'

'Well, since we're not opposing lawyers in litigation or a transaction, I guess I can meet with him whether you mind or not.'

'I'll let him know to expect you.'

Book stood. 'Thanks for your time, Mr. Dunn.'

'Professor, why do you care so much about Nathan Jones?'

'I owe him.'

'Must be a big debt, to come way out here. That's why I avoid owing anyone.'

'Even your biggest client?'

Book walked to the door; Nadine followed. But Book stopped and turned back.

'You know, Mr. Dunn, if a lawyer aids and abets a criminal violation of the federal environmental laws, he gets to share a prison cell with his client. Most lawyers aren't willing to go to jail for their clients. I wonder how much money a client would have to pay a lawyer to get him to risk prison time. What do you think, maybe eighteen million a year?'

Dunn fixed Book with a searing glare, as if he were a young a.s.sociate who had failed to bill his monthly quota-for the second consecutive month.

'First, I'm not in your Con Law cla.s.s, Professor, so don't lecture me. And second, I hope that's a law professor's hypothetical fact situation and not an accusation because if you're accusing me of a crime, I'd have to pick up that phone and call the UT law school dean and express my displeasure, which might have repercussions for the professor making those false and defamatory accusations.'

'I'm tenured, Mr. Dunn.'

'I'm p.i.s.sed, Professor.'

'And Nathan's dead.'

'I didn't kill him, and neither did Billy Bob. The sheriff said it was an accident.'

'Then neither you nor your client has anything to fear.'

'From what?'

'Not what. Whom.'

'From whom?'

'Me.'

'I thought that went well,' Nadine said. 'Is that what you call stirring the pot?'

'It is.'

'Do you do that often?'

'I do.'

'Has anyone ever taken offense?'

'Define "taken offense."'

'Attempted injury upon your body.'

'They have.'

'Was there gunfire?'

'On occasion.'

'How many occasions?'

'A few.'

'Define "a few."'

'Seven.'

'People shot at you seven times?'

'Maybe eight.'

His intern sighed heavily. 'So in the newspaper reports, I'll be the "innocent bystander caught in the crossfire."'

'I promised to protect you, Ms. Honeywell.'

Sit on a bench in downtown Austin for five minutes and five panhandlers would've already hit on you. Not so in downtown Midland. Law and order-mostly order-prevailed. They sat on a bench outside the Dunn Building, taking a breather before riding back to Marfa. The West Texas wind funneled between the buildings and threatened to blow them over. Pedestrians leaned into the wind, making it seem as if the earth had tilted on its axis. Young men in suits and women in dresses walked past and into the building, apparently lawyers returning from lunch.

'Thomas A. Dunn,' Nadine said. 'The "A" must be for a.s.shole.'

'Fortunately, it's not a crime in Texas, or we'd have a lot more lawyers in prison.'

'Professor, why didn't you ever practice law? You could've been another Tom Dunn.'

'That's why.'

Book pointed up, as if to the corner office on the twentieth floor.

'I knew that life wasn't for me. Working inside. Wearing suits. Counting my life away by the billable hour.'

'He looks rich.'

'I'm sure he is. Each lawyer chooses the life he or she wants, Ms. Honeywell, just as you will have to choose. I chose a life on a Harley instead of in a Mercedes-Benz.'

'You ever regret that choice?'

'Only when it rains.'

She smiled.

'You could've worked at a nonprofit.'

'It's called teaching law school.'

'Hey, I read about those forgivable loans.'

'They made Twitter?'

'Oh, yeah.'

'Well, I didn't get one.'

'You could've done legal aid for the needy.'

'That's why we're here-to use our legal skills to aid someone in need.'

'But the person in need is dead.'

'So he is.'

'Professor, Tom Dunn is an a.s.shole, but he's right: Nathan's death was an accident.'

'Are you just saying that so I'll take you home?'