Chapter 13 #2
“Apparently your Gina”—Jace poked Sawyer in the shoulder—“has been brainstorming with Charlie and Aubrey on how to add to our side hustle here.” He gazed in the direction of the old barn and the construction project that would soon house the overflow of the women’s design business.
“She thinks we should approach Jimmy Ray and Laney about opening a sarsaparilla stand on the ranch.”
Cash nodded enthusiastically. “It’s not a bad idea. Their sarsaparilla is the thing of legends.”
Sawyer let out a long breath. “Not enough foot traffic. I’d hate to ask Jimmy Ray and Laney to be part of a losing proposition.
I agree with Cash, their sarsaparilla is fantastic.
A true original. But people aren’t going to travel miles for a spectacular glass of root beer.
At least I don’t think they will. And a design studio, furniture store, and flower shop won’t bring enough crowds to make it worth Jimmy Ray and Laney’s while.
What we need is a big draw, something that will make the ranch a destination. ”
“You think Macy’s would be interested?”
Cash laughed at Jace’s sarcasm.
“No, dipshit, something like a general store,” Sawyer said. “And if we really wanted to be ambitious, a butcher shop that carried specialty cuts of our beef, just like Harris Ranch. Wasn’t Harris Ranch your brilliant idea, Jace?” He knocked Jace’s hat off his head.
Cash cocked his hip against the fence. “Harris Ranch is a big name, a big brand. No one has ever heard of Dalton beef. We’ve never been that kind of operation.”
Grandpa Dalton had always sold his calves to large meat distributors, like Harris Ranch, who then slapped their own brand on the package. It’s the way most cattlemen did business.
“We’d need to reinvent ourselves,” Sawyer said. “In the long run, it could be more lucrative than the old way. And we could be our own destination draw for the Dry Creek Ranch roadside attraction.”
Cash reached under his hat and scrubbed his hand through his hair.
“Establishing ourselves like that would take a long time. We’d have to have some kind of marketing strategy, something that sets us apart from other meat companies.
We’re not organic. We’re not grass-fed. So what’s our claim to fame? I don’t know, I just don’t see it.”
“We don’t suck. That’s our marketing strategy right there,” Jace said.
Sawyer exchanged a glance with Cash and shook his head. “Yeah, that’ll go over big. I can just see the billboards now. Big splashy letters: Buy us because we don’t suck. Stick to law enforcement, dude.”
“What I’m saying is how many of these folks with organic or grass-fed, or non-GMO labels have superior beef?
I’m betting not many. Whereas our beef is fucking grain-fed delicious.
We could go organic. I’m perfectly good with that.
But I think we’re overlooking our bestselling feature. Taste. Why not market that?”
“We’re back to how again.” Cash threw his hands up in the air.
“Everyone says their product tastes better than the rest. How do you say it loud and effective enough to turn a butcher shop in the middle of nowhere into a destination? Marketing something like that would cost a fortune. A fortune we don’t have. ”
“No, but we are related to one of the top PR agencies in the country.” Sawyer didn’t usually take advantage of his parents’ position, but this was something for all of them.
Even though his father had never taken to ranching, keeping Grandpa Dalton’s legacy in the family was of paramount importance to him.
“And we just so happen to know a celebrity chef, too,” Jace said.
“A fallen celebrity chef?” Sawyer was pretty sure that right now her endorsement would be the kiss of death. “I wouldn’t count on Gina’s influence.”
“A butcher shop is certainly something to think about,” Cash said. “But until we figure it out, I’m with Sawyer. It wouldn’t be fair to ask Jimmy Ray and Laney to make that kind of investment. I know they’d do it if we asked. But it would be taking advantage.”
The couple was getting on in age and had enough work running the coffee shop. And it wasn’t as if they were desperate for money.
“Okay,” Jace said. “But I like this idea of a butcher shop. If we can make more money going retail than selling our beef on the hoof we should go for it. There are all kinds of possibilities there, including mail order. I bet Kansas City Steak Company is making a killing.”
Cash adjusted the brim of his hat. “Let’s take it one step at a time.”
Sawyer didn’t blame Cash for being conservative, but he was on board with Jace.
They were onto something, something that made sense.
“I’ll talk to my parents about it. They’ll have some ideas.
In the meantime, I like where this is going.
It’s a hell of lot better than turning the ranch into some kind of Disneyland sideshow. ”
The three of them pushed off the fence, ready to call it an evening.
“Hey, Jace, don’t forget to talk to Tiffany.”
“Will do.”
They walked their separate ways. Sawyer would’ve paid a visit to Gina, but because Cash was her neighbor…
he could do without the ribbing. He and his cousins generally stayed out of each other’s social business.
But now that Cash was married and Jace engaged, the two of them had relaxed that unspoken rule.
And because he had no idea what he was doing with Gina— besides enjoying mind-blowing sex—he didn’t want to face an interrogation by two skilled cops.
Clearly, they had an inkling that something was going on, but Sawyer didn’t feel the need to give them a front-row seat.
When he got home, he checked his email to find a message from Shooter. Call me, it said.
Sawyer found Shooter’s number and hit dial. “Hey, you got something?”
“Maybe. It’s hard to say without the original photo.
But, yeah, I think it’s been messed with.
Whoever did it is good. There’s none of the telltale signs.
No warpage in the background and no patterns left behind by an amateurish cut-and-paste job.
It’s something about the way DeRose’s body is turned.
It’s anatomically funky. I’m far from an anatomical scientist, but in my years of taking photos I’ve never seen a pose like this.
There’s something off about it. Her head isn’t quite sitting right.
And her skin’s a little too blended. It could be her makeup, but it’s usually a sign of fakery.
Well-executed fakery, though. Usually I don’t have to look twice to tell. But this one took a while.”
Sawyer’s pulse picked up. Now they were getting somewhere. “Is there a way to conclusively prove that the shot was photoshopped?”
“Not without the original. At least nothing that would hold up in court.”
Sawyer didn’t need it to hold up in the legal system, just in the court of public opinion.
“It’s going to be pretty damned near-impossible to get the original.
” Sawyer didn’t even know where it came from.
Like all things on the internet, it started floating around with no credit line.
“Is there anyone who’s an expert I can send the copy to?
Someone who’ll write me out an affidavit that it’s bogus? ”
“There’s a forensic guy who’s well-known, testifies in copyright cases.
I can’t begin to tell you how many people think a photo on social media or on Pinterest is free for the taking so some moron can mangle or photoshop it for a meme.
This guy has impeccable qualifications. But again, he’ll want the original photo.
And I don’t even know if he takes on individual cases or just works with lawyers. ”
“What’s his name?” Gina’s lawyer could contact him. Sawyer was sure she had legions of them.
Shooter gave Sawyer his name. “Do a clip search on him. He testified for the Times when those two society chicks stole Lance’s shot of Beyoncé and superimposed it on cheap T-shirts they then sold for a few hundred bucks apiece. Talk about nerve.”
Sawyer vaguely remembered the case. “I’ll do that. Thanks for looking at it for me, Shooter. Seriously, I owe you one hell of a solid.”
“Buy me a drink next time we’re in some shithole war zone, taking fire.”
“You got it.”
“I think your chef friend has a good case there. Something is definitely up with that photo. I’d be willing to put money on it.”
“I’ll contact this guy. At least now I’ve got more to go on.”
As soon as he got off the phone he did a quick Google search and found an email address for the forensic photo expert. The guy worked for an image-analysis consulting firm in Boston. After taking a few notes, he called his mother.
“Well, if it isn’t my long-lost son.”
“I’ve been busy, Mom.”
“Too busy for your mother?”
“Never too busy for you.” He rolled his eyes.
“I heard you had a little excitement this morning.”
“Nothing we couldn’t handle. We’re taking precautions.” If you counted precautions as telling Tiffany to keep her trap shut. “Mom, do you know where that photo of Gina and Danny Clay originated?”
There was a long pause, then, “Sawyer, you know I can’t talk about this with you. Why is it that you want to know?”
“I had a friend, a photographer buddy from the Times, take a look at a copy of the photo I found on the internet. He’s certain it’s a fake.
But it would help to have the original. If we had it we could send it to this forensic expert who is well-known for authenticating pictures.
Maybe he could write a declaration or at least go on the record that the picture is bogus. ”
His mother didn’t say anything, but he could hear her thinking on the other end of the line.
“Mom?”
“I really shouldn’t be talking about this without Gina’s permission. Do you have Gina’s permission, Sawyer?”
“Yep. Gina’s on board.” Gina hadn’t explicitly given him permission to discuss her case with his mother, but close enough. He was helping her, after all.