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a curt nod. “Good day.”
    The reporters continued to throw questions at her back as she made her way inside the main office. Behind the tinted windows, Deacon Wynn paced the polished floors. “They’re pouncing on us, Sadie. Profits are down. I’m losing money hand over fist right now. Over two hundred of my oil rigs have no facility to produce into. Every day they’re down, I’m losing hundreds of thousands of dollars.”
    She let out a sigh and gripped her leather appointment book tighter. “It’ll bounce back up, Deacon.” Lord, please let it be so.
    â€œYou sure about that? The damage to the facilities is costly. That’s cutting into our operating costs.” He ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “We can’t afford for another to go down. Especially not to sabotage. They’ve knocked out almost a quarter of our top-producing rigs. I can’t afford to stay in business at this rate.”
    Sadie’s heart twisted. Deacon Wynn was a hard and cunningbusinessman, but he was also a good man. He was one of the few men who’d never made a pass at her, despite her reputation. He appreciated her talent in public relations, giving her chances that no other business owner in Lagniappe would have ever provided her. She owed him. Big-time. She’d have to make him take her suggestions this time—to save his company. “We need to bring in some independent investigator to look into the sabotage, sir. Someone who’ll take this situation very seriously and hopefully can make progress where law enforcement seems to be stumped.”
    Deacon stared out the window at the departing press. “You think an independent could do anything more than what law enforcement is doing?” Deacon shook his head. “We need a miracle. I need answers. And fast. If we leak anything into the waterways, it’ll cost me millions for cleanup, which will put the company in bankruptcy.”
    â€œWe have to do something, Deacon.” She glanced at the cars leaving the parking lot. “We know some of the laid-off workers have an ax to grind with us. I’ll start working on that angle.”
    He nodded, but didn’t take his gaze from the windows. “Whatever it takes. We can’t afford for anything else to go wrong.”
    â€œDad.”
    Both Sadie and Deacon turned as Lance Wynn strode toward them. His hair had been trimmed since the last time Sadie had seen the young man. He wore jeans that hung low on his hips and a T-shirt that needed a better washing. But his face appeared clear. Maybe rehab had done him some good.
    He reached his father. “I’m sorry to hear about this latest incident. What can I do to help?”
    Deacon’s brows formed a firm line. “I’m surprised to see you here. Thought you were no longer interested in the company or me.”
    Lance’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Personal differences aside, you’re my father and this is your company. When someone lashes out at you, I take it personally.”
    â€œLike you have with Candy-Jo?” Deacon shook his head.“Never mind. Like I told you last week, I don’t want you here, Lance. We’ve said all there is to say between us.”
    â€œBut, Dad, I can help. I’ve hung around these outfits since I was ten years old. I know the business from the ground up. Let me try to help.” Desperation hung in the kid’s tone.
    Deacon’s brows formed a firm line. “I thought I made it perfectly clear that you weren’t welcome on any Vermilion Oil property. Do you want me to call security?”
    Sadie took a step backward. Ever since Deacon had married Candy-Jo two years ago, there’d been conflict in the family. Candy-Jo was a much younger woman, and Sadie had heard the tension in the family had gotten so bad that eighteen-year-old Lance had gotten into some sort of mess with drugs and checked into a rehab