by Debra Webb
“Of course. I apologize,” Roland said. “You’re aware of our high standard of patient care.”
Annette nodded, wishing like hell the woman would get to the point.
“We pride ourselves on safety, first and foremost.”
The anxiety pressed against Annette’s chest, fisted in her stomach, but she kept quiet. Allowed the woman to get to her point without interruption.
“Somehow, Paula got her hands on a pair of scissors.”
“Did she injure another patient?” If Paula was fine physically, doing damage to someone else was an equally disturbing concern.
Roland shook her head. “She cut her hair.”
Relief and confusion reigned for a long moment, rendering Annette unable to respond appropriately. Paula had the same blond hair as Annette, only far longer. Paula loved her hair, played with it like a child with a favored toy. Most of the time it stayed in one long braid. She would be devastated at the loss of her hair.
“How did this happen?”
The Magnolia Individualized Care Center was one of the finest in the country. The staff specialized in low-functioning autism. Paula had never been happier.
“Believe me when I say we’ve investigated every possibility and we’re at a complete loss.” Roland turned her palms upward. “There simply is no explanation. Regardless, we take full responsibility, of course.”
No explanation? Calm. Stay calm. “I’m certain every precaution was taken to avoid an incident of this nature.” Annette closed her eyes a moment to regain full control of her composure, then met the doctor’s relieved gaze. “Things do happen despite our best efforts. Still, I would hope that nothing like this will happen again.”
Dr. Roland nodded adamantly. “You can rest assured it will not happen again.”
Annette cleared her throat of the rising lump. What Paula could have done with scissors chilled her blood. “Can I see my sister now?”
“Certainly.” Roland stood, clearly breathing easier. “But, as I said, she’s heavily sedated.”
Annette pushed to her feet. She felt so tired suddenly. So very tired. “I understand.”
As she walked alongside Dr. Roland, Annette considered the murals on the walls of the corridor. She’d seen them many times before, but she never ceased to be amazed by the detail. Each was designed to lure the minds of the patients who roamed the halls. With autism, most were inclined to retreat to that world in their heads that they alone knew about. The murals and sensory rooms were created specifically to draw them out, to entice them to another place. The whole center was set up in such a way to induce intellectual stimulation or to soothe an outburst in quiet rooms where pale blue was the sole color of walls, floors, and furnishings. Each member of the staff was trained specifically in dealing with the patient’s unique needs.
The place was worth every penny of the hundred grand it cost each year. Paula was safe and happy, at least to the degree possible. She received the finest care available, and all new medical discoveries were hastened into trials here.
Annette didn’t care what she had to do; she would ensure that her sister received this level of care for the rest of her life.
Roland paused at the door to the room. “Let me know if you need anything or if you have any additional questions.”
Annette thanked her before stepping into the room.
Paula lay on her back, arms at her sides, sheet neatly draped over her. Definitely medicated to the max. Paula preferred curling into a ball when she slept.
Annette’s eyes burned when she touched her sister’s hair, which stood like bristles on a brush. How on earth had this happened? Paula lay absolutely still, breathing deep and steady. Annette kissed her cheek and whispered softly in her ear. “I’m here, baby.”
Though her mind was like that of a toddler, sometimes an infant, Paula was three years older than Annette. There were moments when Annette would see recognition in her eyes. Sometimes happiness. But more often than not all Annette saw was that emptiness that left her feeling so utterly desolate and completely inadequate. And alone.
Annette kissed Paula’s forehead and settled into the chair next to her bed. The wrist bracelet she wore identified her as Paula Anderson. Annette disliked the deceit when it came to dealing with Paula. No matter, the step was without question essential to her security. Annette would never take chances with her safety.
Scissors. How could such an oversight have happened? The staff were highly trained and meticulous in their work. Not once in all the years Paula had stayed here had anything like this happened.
The notion that it had now, at this particular time, roused Annette’s anxiety once more.
Could someone have made the connection?
She never allowed the FBI or anyone else to tail her here. Annette was too good for a careless mistake like that.
No need to overreact. Paula was basically unharmed. If Annette’s enemies had wanted to hurt Annette or send her a warning, there were far worse things they could have done.
Like that black sedan that had attempted to follow her when she’d left the courthouse. But she’d given him the slip. And the driver had definitely been male.
Annette shuddered at all the possibilities. She had been protecting Paula since they were little children. Some of the brats in the trailer park where they had lived as kids had liked being mean to Paula. Annette had busted heads. She had grown up tough as nails. At least she had thought she was tough, until, at age twelve, her mother had deserted them at the Walmart. Their father had disappeared years before that. And the only other man in their lives, the bastard who’d lived with them for three long-ass years, had been dead. Murdered. But he’d deserved exactly what he’d gotten.
The foster care system had taken them in. At first Annette had dreamed of a nice home with two loving caregivers. That dream had shattered in a hurry. What she had gotten was shipped from one household to another. No one wanted to bother with Paula, considering the courts had concluded that she had violent tendencies. Guilt assaulted Annette. She couldn’t count the times she had come home from school and found Paula tied to the bed they shared or locked in a closet. Finally, the system that was supposed to rescue children had dumped Paula in a state institution. Annette had been placed in a home where rebellion wasn’t tolerated on any level. Then another and another after that. The endless stream of so-called caregivers had forced her into one abusive situation after the other. She was fully aware that there were good foster families out there, she had just never been placed with one.
At sixteen Annette had succeeded in running away and staying out of the system’s reach. She’d jumped from the frying pan into the fire. Living on the streets had been brutal. She’d learned to survive on her wits and her physical attributes.
Then one day her manager had sent her to a swanky hotel as part of a group of escorts to visiting businessmen for the night, and Otis Fleming had noticed her. He’d taken her in and taught her how to make something of herself. She owed him everything. He had given her the skills to gain considerable wealth, and that wealth had allowed her to find Paula and place her in the perfect environment for her condition.
No one was going to take that away from her. Annette would do whatever she had to do, stop whoever got in her way, to keep Paula safe.
Images of barbaric sex with Carson Tanner intruded but Annette cast them out. Having sex with Tanner had been part of her strategy, not for her physical pleasure. She didn’t care for sex. It had been years since she had been forced to use it as a tool. She hated that she had to now. But if that was what it took to keep Carson Tanner off balance, then so be it.
She wasn’t afraid of the local authorities. She wasn’t afraid of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. But Carson Tanner suddenly scared the hell out of her. She thought of the way he had looked at her today.
If he knew about her sister...no, he had to be bluffing.
Annette needed to maintain control as long as possible while divulging the lea
st amount of information. Information was power, but once released it became impotent. The time had to be right.
Timing was everything.
Her cell vibrated. Annette inhaled a deep, bolstering breath before answering. It was Daniel, her assistant. “Yes, Daniel.”
“Representative McGrath has requested a consultation with you at three. I told him you were unavailable, but he refused to take no for an answer.”
A potential new client. Interesting. At least it wasn’t another retainer withdrawal.
Wainwright and Drake were powerful. Dwight Holderfield was dead. Half her client list was pulling out. She had dirt on nearly all of those bastards. Control represented her most valuable asset. Someone was methodically taking it away from her, leaving her powerless.
Were Wainwright and Drake really this influential?
“Shall I tell him you’ll get back to him?”
Annette took a moment to gather her composure. “Tell him I’ll meet him at five.” She gave Daniel the usual protocol and put her phone away.
In the beginning, her work had been more of an intelligence-gathering mission. Otis sat her up as a fundraising coordinator. Over time she had developed an in with the most powerful people in Birmingham. Otis gained insight to those he needed to manipulate, and she grew financially secure. As time went by, the services she offered expanded into problem solving. She provided a service no one else could. Kept the ugliness away from those the community trusted and looked up to. Someone had to do it. Otherwise there would be bedlam.
She wasn’t a monster.
But the world, her world, considered her just that.
He considered her that.
Carson Tanner thought he was better than her despite the reality that his job dictated he do things far worse than she. He made deals with hard-core criminals. But it was different when he allowed a killer to get less than what he deserved. The law was on Tanner’s side. Just as it was on Wainwright’s and Drake’s.
If the naive citizens of Birmingham only knew.
The fear she inspired in those who knew her, knew what she did, ensured that she would never be anything but evil in the eyes of all those law-abiding citizens.
They just didn’t know.
That sense of doom crowded in on her, banded around her chest. She stood, steadied herself. She would get through this.
They would not win.
Annette smoothed her palms over slacks. The look, the attitude. All of it was part of the job. Part of what made her who she was. She would find a way to regain her power.
No man would keep her down for long.
Carson Tanner was hers already, he just didn’t know it yet
5:00 p.m.
Oak Mountain State Park
At least someone still asked “How high?” when Annette said jump. State Representative Bryan McGrath had not balked once at the short notice or the change in location. New clients were never given the actual location of the meet until the last possible minute.
McGrath parked his Mercedes alongside her Lexus. Annette watched as he got out of his vehicle, removed his jacket and cell phone, and tossed both back into the car. Then he walked to the passenger side of hers. She never met with a client on his terms. Always on her own. And only for the initial meeting so that she could assess his motives and his nature. After that, there was rarely any personal contact.
When he had opened the door and settled into the seat, she placed a jamming device on the console just in case he’d worn any transmitting bugs.
Never trust anyone, that was her motto.
“Nice to see you, Representative McGrath.”
“Can we get this over with?”
McGrath was a relatively young man in the political arena; he’d only recently turned thirty. He had a lovely wife and three precious children, as he so often said in the media.
Evidently he also had a dark side. Something for which he needed her expert assistance. This was the part of her work she always found the most fascinating. It never failed to amuse her just how stupid those who had it all could be.
“Of course,” she assured him. “Keep in mind that I need all the details. Don’t leave anything out.”
He swallowed hard. “I have a problem with sex.”
She didn’t say anything to that. Didn’t most powerful men?
“I like,” he went on, “having sex with exotic dancers. It’s like gambling, I can’t resist.” He made a sound, like a sob stuck in his throat. “My wife would be devastated if she knew.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve tried to stop.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I just can’t.”
Annette would bet he had tried. Giving him credit, according to what she knew of the man, other than that one dirty little flaw, he was extraordinarily upstanding. Fine husband and father, dedicated churchgoer. The works. It appeared that if he could just keep his cock in his trousers when his wife wasn’t around, his life would be perfect.
“I need to know exactly what happened. If you leave out anything, I can’t do my job.” Annette settled back in her seat and watched the man’s profile. He wouldn’t want to look at her as he spoke, but she needed to analyze him as he did so.
“I made a mistake. I always go out of town when I...I can’t bear it any longer.”
How thoughtful of him.
He shook his head again as his mouth quivered. “I didn’t know she was seventeen. She said she was twenty-one. It was a mistake. Just a mistake.”
Annette wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. “Forgetting a meeting is a mistake, McGrath. Fucking a seventeen-year-old girl who looks twenty-one is just plain stupid.”
He turned to Annette then, his face contorted with fury, but it was the fear in his eyes that kept him seated in her car and taking her shit. “I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t. She was working at that club.” He looked away, shook his head. “I just assumed...”
Ah, well. She wouldn’t bother telling him what happened more often than not when one made assumptions. “I’ll need the name and address of the club and the girl’s name.”
He gave her the information. She committed it to memory. That was something else she never did. She never, ever wrote down anything she was told or entered it into a database of any sort. Only she had access to the information her clients shared.
“What happens now?” he asked, defeated.
“Now I find her weakness, then I make her a deal she can’t refuse.”
He moistened his lips. “How much is this going to cost me?”
The bottom line in all her transactions. “Depends upon how much trouble the girl gives me. I’ll try to keep it under fifty grand. I’ll need half of that deposited into this account.” She wrote the number on his hand. “Today.” This was an account the feds wouldn’t know about. Her business account. Unfortunately it was only a temporary holding account that automatically transferred all moneys to one or more of her foreign accounts.
He blinked, then nodded.
“Once the situation is resolved, you’ll pay the balance. My work is guaranteed. I doubt that she will give you any trouble in the future, but if she does, I’ll take care of it at no additional cost.”
His gaze collided with Annette’s once more. “You won’t hurt her? It won’t go that far, right?”
Annette smiled. Hardly. “If you’re asking me will I do physical harm to her, the answer is no. That’s not the way I do business.”
“So that’s it? I pay you and it’s done? That completes our business.”
“It’s not quite that simple.” This was the part no one ever liked. “You will be in my debt. At some point in the future I may need your assistance. When the time comes, I’ll call in the marker. Until then, you should go on with your life as if this incident never happened. As if we never met.”
A frown marred the smooth, classic features of his face. “Marker?”
“You needn’t concern yourself with that now.”
He nodded jerkily.
“But be aware, if you ever discuss this meeting or me with anyone-—and I mean anyone—I will ruin you.”
Another halting nod. “I understand.”
Yes. She was quite certain he did.
“Very well, Mr. McGrath.” She arranged another smile into place. “That’s all. I’ll contact you when the situation is resolved. If possible, I’ll take care of it in the next twenty-four hours.”
He reached for the door handle, but hesitated. He searched her face. “You’re that sure you can take care of this?”
Her smile broadened into the genuine article. “Trust me, Mr. McGrath. I have never failed a client.”
Strange, she realized as McGrath got out of her car: That was something else she and Carson Tanner had in common.
Neither liked to lose.
Chapter Twenty-Two
8:00 p.m.
Festive Fundraiser, Historic Richard Erwin House
Annette stood in the background, watching the elite of Birmingham mingle and smile as if they owned the world. Every city commissioner was in attendance, including tonight’s host, the distinguished Thomas Schmale, as well as a slew of other honorary event sponsors. The rich and famous gathered in their little cliques based on zip code and financial portfolio. Gossiping and bragging, partaking of food from the hottest restaurants the city had to offer, and drinking the finest wines imported from around the world.
Not a one paid the slightest attention to her. She was simply another fixture, the woman who had organized and set the stage for tonight’s hefty donations to the Birmingham Historical Society’s Museum Endowment Fund. The extravagant gown, champagne in color so as to blend in, she’d selected and the sophisticated French twist in which she’d arranged her hair were of no consequence. These people had no desire to know who Annette Baxter was even had she been inclined to offer herself up to such scrutiny. They didn’t want to know. She performed with great success the services required, and that was all that mattered. Annette merely orbited their exclusive worlds.