Because the shop sat on a corner, both morning and afternoon light played a part in making the shop special.
Magical even. Touched with fairy wings.
“Here, take these to peruse, Jill.”
“What?” Jill jerked back to real life.
Anne held papers in her hand. “I warn you, they’ll put you to sleep at night.”
Jill took the pages and looked at them. “Oh, my gosh.” She squealed and not in pleasure. A sea of numbers ran together from the end-of-year printouts.
“Well, I want to make sure you know exactly what you’re getting into. You need to get this data to your accountant.” Anne’s tone brooked no disagreement.
“You’re right, of course.” A chuckle bubbled out. “Gary will have my head if I don’t talk with him first. So, will my attorney. Let me mull over them for a week or so at least.”
Jill slapped the pages against her thigh. How to handle this? “They’ll want to see them, but I—right now, I don’t want to return to Fort Worth.” She hoped the last showed it was no big deal, but doubted it came out that way.
Anne looked at Jill with a question in her eyes, but she didn’t voice it, just nodded. “I’m sure we can email anything either your accountant or attorney needs.”
Jill turned away feigning an interest in one of the exquisite glass pieces to hide her trembling chin and damp eyes. Anne’s kindness touched Jill. After a big gulp of air, and a quick wipe at the moisture, she turned around. “Thank you.”
TUESDAY, MAY 1
Greg Richardson paced back and forth in his Austin office like a lion looking for a way out of his cage. He’d done everything possible to cover his tracks. He’d kept his hands clean, not even a traffic ticket. Sid Cranston, the Las Vegas kingpin, and Greg had only met once many years ago in the gambling capital where they set up the deal.
They’d been successful. The Texas legislature first set up the lottery and then legalized gambling on horseracing, and the money poured in. The next prize was expansion to casinos. The state’s finances were in crappy shape, the perfect time to pass the casino bill. With Representative Bill Stevens dead, no one stood in their path. Greg rubbed his hands together, anticipating his riches. Except for one glitch.
Somehow, Stevens discovered documentation of Greg’s phone calls with Sid and had turned them over to an FBI agent in the Austin office.
Fortunately, for Greg, the agent was one he had in his back pocket, or Sid and he would have been toast. Greg once tagged Special Agent Franklin in a compromising situation with his boss’s wife. Because of that knowledge and the money Greg paid the agent, Franklin kept him well informed.
Greg fingered the flash drive on his key chain. Hell and damn. Franklin had reported that Stevens said he’d made a copy of the drive for safekeeping. Stevens had lived with his daughter Jill Barlow in Fort Worth when he wasn’t in Austin, and the two of them had been very close. If he shared it with anyone, it would be her. Greg had sent Slade to check out the Barlow home.
Greg lit his electric cigarette. Stupid city leaders had made Austin a smoke-free zone. He stared out the windows. Searching Barlow’s house could take a long time. He really shouldn’t expect to hear from the man for at least another hour. Greg puffed and waited. Not his strong suit.
“Mr. Richardson?” his secretary’s high-pitched voice interrupted his thoughts. “Yeah.”
“Mr. Slade is on line three for you, sir.”
“Okay.” Greg’s heartbeat accelerated. He punched the button. “What’cha got?”
“Nobody was there, Mr. Richardson.” Slade’s nasal voice always sounded like he had a cold.
“Should’ve made the search easier.”
“No, I mean, it looks like Barlow skipped town. Some pieces of furniture are inside, but a For Lease sign stands in the yard. I went through what was there, but didn’t find a flash drive.”
Greg snapped the electric cigarette between two fingers.
“I’ll be in touch, Slade.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. Greg mentally kicked himself for not starting the surveillance of Jill Barlow sooner. Stupid of him. He’d underestimated the woman. Her children had returned to their work in other states right after the funeral. Now, she’d taken off.
When did she leave? Despite using electric cigarettes, Greg retained a lighter, which he pulled from his pocket and opened.
Where did she go? He flipped it closed.
Why did she take off? Greg flicked his lighter open and closed.
Click. Click.
She couldn’t hide from them—at least not for long. Greg would order Franklin to track down the woman. Greg had to get his hands on the copy of the flash drive. His need to celebrate Stevens’ death warred with his cautious side. The information on the device couldn’t get out. Being poor wouldn’t matter then.
His Vegas “friends” would ensure he was very dead.
FRIDAY, MAY 4
“Jill, you’ve found yourself a solid business,” Gary Myers, her accountant, said in his folksy west Texas twang.
It had been a week since she’d emailed the statements to him and Michelle Smith, her lawyer. Gary’s good ol’ boy Texas speak misled many people into believing he didn’t know what he was doing. From Jill’s perspective, he held his own against the best in financial circles.
“The statements are in great shape. In my opinion, you’d be making a sound investment.”
“So, what’s the but I hear in your voice?” She clamped her hand around the cell.
“Hon, I’m concerned about you. What do you know about running a store?”
“Well, I—”
“And you want to buy one right after arriving in Vermont? Playing tourist during the fall or summer is one thing, but I hear the winters can be brutal.”
“Yes, but—”
“You intend to come back home, right?” His words sprang like a lion after a gazelle. Pounced on the subject she’d been avoiding with him and Michelle.
“I don’t know, Gary.” She hated the sound of frustration in her voice. “You’d feel better if I could tell you I was a hundred percent certain I should do this—”
“Yeah, I would.”
“I can’t. All I know is how desperately I needed a change.” She didn’t share her concerns about her father’s letter and the flash drive he’d sent her. “Nobody but Karen and her husband know me here or about George and Dad’s deaths.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve told people I don’t have any other family than the kids, and no one pushes for more. I like that.”
A long pause from Gary caused Jill’s damp palm to clench on the cell before she switched it to the other ear. “What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?” Despite her best efforts her pitch rose.
She paced to the window in her suite, seeking the peace she craved from the green grass, flowers, and trees outside. One hand moved to her chest to stifle the fluttering of her heart, whose beat grew faster the longer it took him to answer.
“Well, I’ve debated telling you this, because I didn’t want to get your hopes up. It appears the legislature is going to kill the gambling bill.”
“What?” She dropped into the straight back chair at the desk.
“A group of representatives is determined to stop the bill in your father’s honor. At this point, the legislators have focused on paying tribute to your father’s work. That must make you happy.”
Jill gripped the edge of the table so hard her knuckles turned white. Fear lodged a large ball of cotton in her throat, and she could hardly swallow. God, if the bill didn’t pass, the kids and she could still be at risk.
“Jill, are you still on? Did I lose you?”
She unclenched her teeth before she answered him. “No, you didn’t.” She cleared her throat. “I’m here and yeah, that makes me happy. Uh, listen, Gary, I don’t know when I’ll return.” She made a sudden decision. “I’m getting a new cell phone. I’ll call you with the number. Share it only with Miche
lle.”
“What’s going on? Are you all right? I can come up there.”
She expelled a long whoosh of air. “I’m fine.” She spoke louder than she’d intended. “And no, you don’t need to come now. If the sale goes through, you can come then. How about that?”
“All right. If you’re sure you’re okay. Michelle said to remind you to send a contract before you sign anything.”
“As if I’d do anything so foolish.”
“Hell, Jill. You’re looking at buying a store before you’ve been in town even a couple of weeks. How do you expect us to react?”
Jill recognized the tone of voice and envisioned the red face that usually accompanied it. He spoke to her like she was a pre-teen asking to drive. She ignored his dig, which was justified.
“Between my father and George, they had approximately seventy years of law. If I didn’t get Michelle to go over the contract with a magnifying glass, they’d both come back to haunt me.” She faked a chuckle and Gary joined in.
“You’re probably right. If you need me to come, I can, or we’ll handle everything by email and overnight express. Promise you’ll take care.”
“Of course, Gary.” Jill disconnected, warmed by his support. She set up the coffee maker so in the morning she’d only have to press the button. A habit of hers she started after George died. He’d always been the first one up and made the coffee. Afterwards. . .well, now. . .this seemed easier.
She stomped her foot.
“Damn. I want that bill to pass.”
She needed the bill to pass. The bill her father had worked for over ten years to defeat. Disloyal and weak. That’s what she was.
“I’m sorry, Dad.” She sank into the desk chair, dropped her head onto her arms and cried huge, gut-wrenching sobs. Her father had been a fighter. He’d be disappointed in her, but she’d do anything to ensure the children were safe, including praying the bill would pass.
The only sure way for her family to be safe was for Richardson and his bunch to get their damned casino gambling. Wanting the bill to pass went against everything her father and she believed to be good for the state, but if it did, then Richardson and his people would have no reason to hassle them. If it didn’t, she faced two more years of living with doubt and fear.
Was there any reason for them to suspect she had a copy of her father’s flash drive? Her stomach cramped, and she rubbed the palms of her hands against her eyes, trying to stop the tears, but they kept falling.
Had she made a mistake not looking at the information her father collected on the damn data storage device? Did she want to know the specifics? Knowing would maybe make her more vulnerable. She paced the confines of the suite. Should she take the information to the FBI?
“Yeah, sure. A lot of good that did Dad.” Her sarcasm sounded heavy enough to crush Austin limestone.
By the time she stopped the crying bout, it was almost one-thirty. The way her head pounded, she feared it might split apart. A sip of water helped her gulp down two aspirin. She hadn’t eaten supper, but at the idea of food, her stomach roiled. Not bothering to take off her clothes, she stumbled to the bed, yanked back the covers, clicked off the light, and crawled in. Doubts and questions rumbled through her brain like a train on a continuous loop of track. Clock hands sat at five. She ached for the release of sleep.
SATURDAY, MAY 5
The piercing ring of the inn phone by her bed penetrated Jill’s consciousness and shot lightning bolts ricocheting around inside her skull. She’d stopped using landlines. However, fearing the bombs exploding in her head more than whoever was on the other end, she snatched up the receiver in a shaky hand. “Hello?” God, was the scratchy sound her? She swallowed, and her raw throat indicated how much she'd cried the night before.
“Ms. Barlow? Jill?”
The deep voice on the other end startled her into sitting up. Her head spun, and her stomach threatened to pitch. Might as well haul her off to the funeral home.
“Who’s this?” She struggled to get the words out.
“Jerrod Phillips. If you have time, I’d like to visit with you.”
Jill cut her gaze toward the bedside clock. Ten. The meltdown last night had taken a toll on her. She never slept this late. She pressed a hand to her forehead.
This was Anne’s son. She had to make an effort. “When did you have in mind, Mr. Phillips?” She struggled from the bed toward the little coffee maker and flipped the switch.
“Please call me Jerrod, and how about now?”
“Oh, no. I couldn’t.” Desperate for caffeine, she glared at the pot to make it drip faster.
“You won’t call me Jerrod, or you won’t meet with me now?”
“I’ll call you Jerrod, but I can’t meet with you now.” She pulled out the scrunchy she’d forgotten to remove last night. God, she needed her brain to function without breaking apart. “Aren’t you still in Montpelier?”
Finally. The aroma filled the room. She poured the steaming dark brew into a cup, and took a too hasty sip, burning her tongue. The pain was worth it to get the caffeine into her system.
“The session closed a couple of days ago, but I only got back into town this morning. How about lunch?”
No way. She found him entirely too attractive. Something about his voice sent tingles to her middle. Her reactions, so soon after meeting the man seemed disloyal to George. And completely inappropriate. That’s what her mother would’ve said.
“Jill?”
She didn’t want to offend Anne. She had to respond.
“How about five this evening? They serve coffee and tea here in the solarium.”
JERROD WAITED IN THE Woodstock Inn library, pretending to read. He couldn’t stop thinking how Jill had hung up on him. Click. The noise rang in his ears. Her voice had been just-woke-up-croaky when she first spoke. It wasn’t until the end of the conversation she hit her I’m-awake-and-in-charge-tone.
“Jerrod.”
He glanced up and rose. The magazine fell to the table. Jill wore black pants and a matching long-sleeved sweater hinting at curves. For such a small person, she had a great build.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” She raised her chin just a touch. Every bit the lady and no trace of a hoarse voice. Her hair was pulled back into the low ponytail she seemed to favor. Simple gold hoops hung from her ears. She wore no rings and only a watch on her left wrist. Nothing flashy about her. Used to judging potential jurors, it only took seconds for him to take in the whole package. His groin tightened. What the hell?
He had trouble finding words. Finally, he said, “No problem.”
“Let’s get something to drink and then we can talk.” She led the way to the Solarium where they both ordered coffee.
Jerrod settled into one of the large leather wingbacks in the library. Jill sat on the edge of the chair next to him. He stared at her rose-colored lips when she took a tentative sip and her throat when she swallowed. He jerked his gaze away.
“I’m sure you must be busy. Why did you ask to meet? Frankly, I’ve had the feeling I’m not one of your favorite people.”
Well, she was honest about some things. “Let me apologize again for my behavior.”
“Apology accepted. Now what do you want to discuss?”
The woman was all business. Jerrod leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. “I don’t want you to buy Crystal Rainbows.” Her eyelids batted the way they would if a gnat attacked. Before she could respond, he went on. “I know who you are.” Color drained from her face. Her hand trembled when she set down her cup.
“Well, of course you know who I am.” Her words came out in a rush. “Your mother introduced us.”
Her voice rose to higher pitch than normal. He gave her credit for attempting the bluff.
“Did you assume no one would check up on you?”
She hopped up at his words, paced in front of the chairs. He went on. “You’ve had an interesting couple of years.” He stood, stepped in front of her. “
Did you leave Texas because you killed your husband and father?”
The sting from her hand slapping his jaw stunned him. He never saw it coming. She spun around and brushed past startled guests. She had quite a swing on her. He rubbed his face, and then rushed after her.
By the time he got to the stairs, she’d reached the bottom and pushed open the door. She headed for the gardens behind the inn.
No way out that direction, sweetheart.
The air cooled his stinging cheek. His beard helped cushion the blow, but she’d let him have it. Halfway across the gardens, he caught up to her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her around in front of him. Pain-filled eyes and streaming tears grabbed his heart, but he held on. After fumbling for a handkerchief, he offered it, and she swiped at her face.
“Let go of me.” She spat the words between clenched teeth. Struggled to pull away.
Jerrod tightened his grip and shepherded her toward the back part of the gardens to benches under tall oak trees. He needed privacy. When they reached the secluded grotto, he released her but blocked the path to the inn.
“What do you want with me?” Her breath hitched, and she rubbed her arm where he’d held her.
“Damn. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Are you—are you going to kill me?” She backed away, her gaze darted around. Probably looking for a way to escape. She put the bench between them, her arms extended in supplication. “Please, don’t hurt my kids. I’ll do whatever you want, if you leave them alone. I beg you.”
What the hell was going on here? He stepped away, his hands raised in front. “All I wanted was to talk you out of buying Mother’s store. Your reaction makes me more certain I don’t want you anywhere near her or settling in my town.”
“What?” She blinked and seemed to come out of trance. Gulped air. Her body shook.
“You better sit. I don’t want you fainting.”
She slumped onto the far side of the bench. “What are you talking about?” Her voice was shaky, but her lips formed a hard, straight line he’d seen on her a couple of times. No trace of her cute dimple.
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