by Carolina Mac
8:30 a.m.
Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.
TYLER was quiet through breakfast and he picked at his food.
“You nervous about meeting with the DA in Santa Fe today?” asked Bobby.
Tyler shrugged. “A little, I guess. My lawyer says it’s the way to go and Jesse said that’s what we’re paying him for—his expert legal advice.”
“That’s true,” said Bobby. “Wish I could go too, but I can’t be away today, because Annie went somewhere. We can’t both be away from the safe-house.”
“Where did she go?” asked Tyler and that drew a glare from Jesse.
“She didn’t say. Somewhere on business. Probably San Antonio to Powell Corp. She has to run over there when there’s a problem, or she could be going to an antique auction.”
“I went to a few of those with her,” said Tyler. “It was fun bidding on all the old relics.”
“Relics?” Jesse laughed. He finished his coffee and lifted Charity out of her highchair. “We better wash your hands, little girl. You’re a messy eater.”
“Mess,” she repeated and showed Jesse her hands.
9:00 a.m.
Pete Salvatore’s Residence. Santa Fe. New Mexico.
ANNIE and Luc were welcomed into the foyer with hugs. Pete and Jean Salvatore were Jackson’s grandparents and Jean managed Annie’s Santa Fe antique store. They were family. Jackson had been staying there since the fated trip the week before with Tyler.
“Do I have to go home, Mommy?”
“I think it’s time, don’t you?”
“I guess Lucy is going bonkers without me to tell her what to do,” said Jackson.
Annie giggled. “I never heard her put it into words, but she’s probably missing you.”
“Do I have to go right now? Me and nana are baking a carrot cake in the kitchen.”
“No, you don’t have to leave yet. I have to talk to Pete for a few minutes. Our flight isn’t until after lunch.”
“Let’s go into my study,” said Pete. “Jean and Jackson are so noisy a person can’t think.” He winked at his wife when he said it. Pete was rarely serious.
But he could be. A retired attorney he was influential in the Santa Fe legal world and he had powerful friends in high places.
Luc hung back until Annie took his hand. “You want to come with me or drink coffee with Jean?”
“I watch Jacks bake a gateau.”
“I’m good at baking, Luc,” said Jackson. “Watch me.”
10:00 a.m.
District Attorney’s Office. Santa Fe. New Mexico.
DARYL Cruickshank smiled when Annie and Pete walked into his office. “Annie, so wonderful to see you, and of course, you’re as beautiful as ever.” He shook hands with Pete. “Mr. Salvatore, we miss you in the courtroom.”
“Thanks, Daryl,” said Pete. “Some days I miss it too.”
Cruickshank pointed to the leather club chairs in front of his desk. He wasn’t too tall and had put on a little weight since Annie had last seen him. “Wonderful to receive your phone call, and I’m sure I can help you with your little problem.” He opened the file folder in front of him. “These are the pictures from the first incident in Las Vegas?”
Annie nodded. “He’d been drinking, and he’d never hurt me before.”
Cruickshank raised an eyebrow. “So… you let it go thinking it wouldn’t happen again?”
“That’s right.”
“I’ve been over the new charges and with all the evidence against him we’ll have no trouble getting an indictment from the Grand Jury. Tyler Quantrall should go to trial.”
“The lawyer handling my divorce, Warren Radway, found out that Mr. Simic, Tyler’s defense counsel, doesn’t want to go to trial, but you already know that. They’re coming today to talk deal.”
Cruickshank nodded. “And the minute I knew you were involved it became crystal clear why they want to avoid a trial. You realize when the media finds out you’ll be testifying against your husband there will be an explosion of interest in Mr. Quantrall’s trial.”
“I don’t need or want publicity,” said Annie, “but a fine and probation isn’t enough for what Tyler did to me. “If the paramedics hadn’t revived me, I wouldn’t be sitting here today.”
“I read the report, Annie. You weren’t breathing when they got to you.”
“I’m sure you’ll make the correct decision when you speak to Tyler and his lawyer.”
“Of course, I will, Annie.” Daryl said, then gave her a wide smile. “This case will go to trial. A high profile trial with tons of media coverage. An easy win for me—and in an election year too.”
10:15 a.m.
LBJ Building. Austin.
LILY and Rob waited fifteen minutes for their ten o’clock appointment at the State Comptroller’s office. Geoffrey Barnes’ secretary had been unhappy that Lily had insisted on having fifteen minutes with her boss when his schedule was so crowded.
When it was their turn she showed them into his office with a scowl on her face like it was a personal affront to her. Lily felt like giggling.
“Miss Duke, Deputy Vicars, what can I do for you this morning? As my secretary told you, I’m tied up in a series of meetings so I can’t spare you much time.”
“Then we’ll be as quick as we can and get straight to the point, sir,” said Lily. “The question is, what were Arlie Theriault’s duties in this office and what State finances did he have access to?”
“Arlie was our budget wizard and he pretty much had free rein in that area.”
“But of course, y’all had auditors?” asked Lily.
“Yes. All budgets and proposed spending of public funds have several levels of approval and every penny has to be accounted for. There is no room for error.”
“Is there any way Arlie would have been scamming any of the accounts?”
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re positive?” asked Rob. “Who was his superior besides you, sir?”
“Arlie answered to me. He was one of my best employees. Model employee. Above reproach.”
“And yet he murdered Congressman Flaherty,” said Lily. “Why would he do that? You must have some idea of your model employee’s motive.”
“A horrible accusation and I can’t bring myself to believe Arlie would murder anyone, much less one of our own esteemed members of the legislature. I think it’s all a terrible mistake.”
“How can you call it a mistake?” asked Lily. “We have solid evidence that Arlie Theriault hired a contract killer and paid him to murder a Congressman.”
“It’s not true. It can’t be.”
“When was your last audit?” asked Lily.
“About a year ago, I’d say. Time flies.” Mr. Barnes nervously fiddled with papers on his desk, then checked his watch.
“Did Congressman Flaherty come here to your office to see Arlie Theriault?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Did you know Congressman Flaherty?”
“No, I never met the man.”
Lily got to her feet and smiled. “Thank you for your time, sir. We’ll be in touch if we need to talk to you further.”
In the elevator on their way down, Rob said, “He seemed antsy, didn’t he?”
“Damned right.”
As soon as they were in Lily’s Mustang she called Blaine. “Hey, boss. See what the Cat woman would have to do to order an audit on the state bucks.”
“You got it, Lil. Doing it now.”
10:30
City Fitness Center. Downtown Austin.
BLAINE parked the truck in the ample parking lot at the rear of the building.
“This whole complex looks new,” said Travis, eyeing the new fencing around the parking area and the newly planted saplings in the flower beds. “Wonder if the Russians built it?”
“Could have, or they might have bought it or rented it from the builder.”
Inside the double glass doors, they were greeted by a tall bl
onde, her toned body accentuated by super snug black workout togs. Her makeup was perfect, and she looked like she’d never broken a sweat in her entire life.
Travis raised an eyebrow and let Blaine do the talking. “I’d like to speak to Mr. Sokolov and Mr. Lebedev, please. Are they here?”
“They are both here, sir. Vad is with a client, but I can show you to Alexi’s office—Mr. Lebedev.”
“Thanks,” said Blaine.
She took off at a jogging pace down a long hallway to the back of the building. She tapped twice on a door and opened it. “Alexi, a couple of gentlemen are here to see you.”
“Thank you, Natasha.”
Perfect English.
“Sit, gentlemen. What can I do for the Texas Rangers? I recognize you from your many TV appearances, Ranger Blackmore, in case you’re thinking I have psychic abilities. I don’t.”
Alexi Lebedev was about thirty-eight or nine, tall and handsome and definitely athletic.
“I’m not going to beat around the bush, Mr. Lebedev,” said Blaine. “The truth is, we’ve busted the Cobras for human trafficking. They’ve been abducting females from shopping malls and selling them and several of the gangers said you and your partner, Mr. Sokolov, were the buyers of the girls.”
He laughed. “Ridiculous. You place your faith in the word of a gang member?”
“It’s my job to investigate leads,” said Blaine. “Some prove false and some prove true. I have to follow all of them to see where they take me.”
“You can be sure, that the thread you are following now, is false. We are in the business of improving people’s health and that is all.”
Blaine stood up and offered his hand across the desk. “Thank you for your time, sir, but before I leave could you show me your facility? I should work out more than I’ve been doing.”
“Of course, and I’d be delighted to offer you a complimentary membership. Follow me.”
After a short tour of the well-equipped gym, the spotlessly clean locker room and the sumptuous lounge, they left.
“Did you have time?” Blaine asked.
“Sure, lots of time,” said Travis. “But I’m thinking it will be useless if they talk to each other in Russian.”
Blaine nodded. “Might have to get the tapes translated. Take longer, but it won’t be useless.”
“Good thought.”
“I’ll tell Luke and Fletch to get set up somewhere on the next street over or in one of the office parking ramps close by.”
11:00 a.m.
Santa Fe. New Mexico.
JESSE, Tyler and Tyler’s attorney, Dorsay Simic, arrived in Santa Fe and Jesse nixed the idea of a car rental for the short time they’d be there. “We’ll take a cab.”
“Sure,” said Tyler, “we won’t be here too long.”
As they entered the District Attorney’s office, Simic said, “When I spoke to Mr. Cruickshank on the phone yesterday, he seemed receptive to the idea of negotiating.”
“Good,” said Tyler. “I want to get this over with as soon as possible. I feel like my life is on hold.”
Jesse rolled his dark brown eyes wondering when Tyler had become so cold and unfeeling.
Daryl Cruickshank’s receptionist greeted them when they entered the office. “I’ll show you gentlemen into the meeting room down the hall.” She led the way, opened the door and showed them in. “There’s coffee on the sideboard. Help yourselves to the pastries too, and Mr. Cruickshank shouldn’t be more than a couple of minutes.”
“Thanks,” said Jesse. He walked over and poured himself a cup of coffee. He added a splash of cream, picked up a napkin and a cruller and took a seat.
The room was plainly decorated in beige and pale green tones and the furniture was minimal. A large highly polished oval walnut table, ten chairs and a walnut sideboard. A blank whiteboard sat in the corner next to the watercooler. A couple of sepia posters of old Santa Fe decorated the walls.
They were settled in their seats when Daryl Cruickshank came through the door with a woman in a navy suit. “I’m Daryl Cruickshank, the DA for the city of Santa Fe, and this is Barbara Paisley, my assistant.”
Handshakes all around and they were ready to talk.
Tyler’s attorney started the ball rolling. “Mr. Quantrall is truly sorry for what happened with his wife. He has been under a great deal of strain going through a divorce he didn’t want. He loves his wife and admits he made a few mistakes in their marriage, but he certainly had no intention of ending his wife’s life. That was an unfortunate moment of passion that he regrets and has to live with.”
Tyler nodded.
Simic kept on trucking. “Mr. Quantrall is not a danger to his wife, or to anyone else. He’s a rancher and a horse breeder and to make up for past mistakes he’s undertaken to open a shelter for battered women in Giddings, Texas.”
Cruickshank listened, nodded his head from time to time and jotted down notes. His assistant also took notes.
“What do you propose, Counselor?” asked Cruickshank.
“I would ask that Mr. Quantrall be put on probation for six months and that he be fined for his actions in a manner you find appropriate.”
Cruickshank peered over his glasses. “Mr. Quantrall’s wife was not breathing when the paramedics arrived, sir. Your client choked the life out of his wife. To equate that with a fine would be an outrage, and to a man of considerable wealth like Mr. Quantrall, the paying of a fine would have no impact whatsoever.”
“We’re open to negotiate,” said Simic. “What do you suggest?”
“I suggest you and Mr. Quantrall go back to Texas and prepare for his trial. You’ve been notified of the date.” Cruickshank stood up, picked up his notes and left the room. His assistant scurried after him.
Simic looked at Tyler and said, “That didn’t go well.”
Jesse stood up and placed his coffee cup back on the tray. “Let’s go home.”
On the way to the airport in the cab Tyler said, “Annie did this. She talked to that guy. I know she did.”
Simic said, “No, I don’t think so. Cruickshank thinks he can win and he’s going for it. Happens all the time.”
“No.” Tyler insisted. “I’d bet a million bucks Annie bent that guy.”
“Tyler, don’t talk foolish,” said Jesse. “You committed a crime and if the DA spoke to Annie before he decided, so what? She was the victim and the victim has rights too. You can’t make what you did disappear.”
“My own fuckin brother is against me. What chance do I have?”
“Shut up, Tyler. Just shut up.” The pain in his chest worsened and Jesse closed his eyes hoping it would go away.
Noon.
Travis Heights. Austin.
BLAINE parked in front of Kim’s loft and took the elevator to the fourth floor. He’d been busy with work and neglecting her badly. “I’m such a shit boyfriend,” he mumbled to himself as he jogged down the corridor to her door.
He knocked and heard Banchu growl. Then Kim opened the door with a paint brush in her hand and smiled when she saw him.
“You didn’t call, sweetheart. I would have made food for you.”
He took the brush from her hand, laid it on the easel tray and picked her up in his arms. “You are my food, Kimimela, and the air that I breathe.”
He carried her down the hall to her bedroom and left the wolf outside the door.
12:30 p.m.
Saint Michael’s Hospital. Austin.
FARRELL picked Quinn up from her apartment and drove to the hospital to pick Roy up and take him home. Kamps had already dropped off a change of clothes for Roy to wear home. The clothes Roy was wearing the night of his encounter with Florin Moffatt were torn and covered in dried blood. Not worth saving.
Roy was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved navy blue sweater when they arrived. He sat stiffly in the one easy chair in the room watching the tiny TV with one eye. His other eye was still swollen shut. He glanced at them when they came into the room but couldn�
��t smile.
Quinn leaned down and kissed his black and blue face. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Roy.”
Roy reached for her hand and held it for a moment and a tear trickled down his cheek.
“Ready to go home, bud?” asked Farrell and Roy nodded.
1:30 p.m.
City Fitness Center. Downtown Austin.
LUKE and Fletcher set up in the parking ramp one block away from the gym. The dark green surveillance unit was backed into a spot in a full line of parked vehicles and no one passing by would have the slightest idea they were in the camper on the back of the truck working.
Fortified with coffee and a bag of high carb snacks, the hard part began. Waiting for something to happen.
2:00 p.m.
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
HIS little time-out with Kim calmed him down and Blaine felt better than he had in days. He had to make more time for Kim, there was no way around it.
She’d never move in with him—no point in asking—because she needed that huge loft space for her studio. Some of her paintings were on four and five foot canvasses and she needed space and good light for her art.
He grabbed a coffee and a pecan tart from the kitchen and hunkered down in his office to find something for Farrell on Florin Moffatt. Farrell said the guy was a weasel—a filthy rich weasel—but a weasel all the same. He had to find a way to make Moffatt pay for hurting Roy the Toy.
4:00 p.m.
Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.
DISAPPOINTED that he’d spent a whole day in Santa Fe for nothing, Jesse, tromped up the front steps and went into the house to grab a beer and change his clothes for chores.
Marnie and Charity were waiting for him with hugs and smiles and he forgot all about Tyler’s problems, at least for the moment.
“We missed you,” said Marnie.
“Miss you, Daddy,” said Charity. She held her arms out and he took her from Marnie. She snuggled her dark curly head into his neck.
“How did it go with the DA?”
“It didn’t,” said Jesse. “I’ll fill you in on the details later. Best not to mention anything to Ty.”