All Bets Are Off: A Samantha True Novel

by Rose, Kristi

She eyed me. “Yeah, why?”

  “I’m looking for someone. It’s a shot in the dark, but maybe you can help.” I held up my phone and showed her the picture. I pointed to Carson. “I know this guy.” I pointed to the other guy. “But not this one.”

  “Why you want to know him?” She crossed her arms, and then her eyes darted to a corner of the room. I glanced that way. She was looking at the table that was in the picture.

  “And why not ask this guy what his friend’s name is.” She pointed to Carson.

  “Because he’s dead,” I said matter-of-factly.

  She gasped, then whispered, “So is his friend.”

  “What?” I said, even though I’d heard her. What were the odds? Maybe this guy had been in the car with Carson when the tree fell on it.

  She gestured for me to move down the line, and she did as well. “You need a drink carrier?”

  I nodded.

  “Listen, I don’t know you—”

  “I was married to Carson.” I rolled my eyes heavenward. “Well, I guess not really married since he had a wife he wasn’t divorced from but I believed I was married to him. But he left me a mess, and I’m trying to clean it up.” I figured the girl was the sort who could sniff out a lie and had her share of bullcrap from men.

  She narrowed her eyes, and with disgust, she said, “He did not!”

  I grimaced. “Which part makes you angrier? The wife or the mess? Because I’m kinda torn. Feeling them both with equal anger.”

  She shook her head. “The audacity of some people. I didn’t know Carson well. Met him when he started coming in and talking with Ben. That’s the other guy in your picture. Ben Fulton. He was a nice guy. Big on the environment. Always complaining to me about the waste the coffee stirrer and cups made.” She rolled her eyes but in a good-natured way.

  I connected another puzzle piece. “He’s Senator Fulton’s kid, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Big outdoorsman, too. You think Senator Fulton is right? About how there’s no way his kid could have fallen asleep with a lit cigarette?” My dad’s instinct for a story trumped again.

  “Yeah, totally. Ben’s only vice was coffee. Real health nut.” She pointed to some bars stacked on the counter. “I carry these gluten-free, preservative-free, only five ingredients health bars just for him.” She sighed heavily. “I’m gonna miss him.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “By chance, do you know why they were always meeting?” I was hoping she’d managed to catch some bits here and there.

  She shrugged and continued to make our drinks. “Not really. Something about land and wetlands and preserving. That was Ben. He wanted to preserve anything and everything. He could make a cup of coffee last hours.” She chuckled.

  I did as well. Ben Fulton sounded like a nice enough guy. Not that I was a good judge of such things. Regardless, how did he get mixed up with Carson?

  She glanced over my shoulder and said in a frosty voice. “Can I help you?”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. The ones on my arms, too. My inner alarm system was pinging madly.

  No doubt, something was about to go down, and I was going to be in the mix of it. I don’t know how I managed it, maybe from sheer nervousness, but I clicked on my photo app then slowly turned to see who stood behind me.

  Mad Dog.

  I nearly wet my pants. “Oh, no,” I said weakly. I raised my phone and pressed the photo taking button. Never looking at the screen, only at Mad Dog’s two differently colored eyes.

  “I knew you were too stupid to listen to good advice,” he said, his tone laced with distaste.

  “Stay away from me,” I said. I couldn’t believe he was confronting me like this in a public place.

  “Come with me,” he said and reached for my arm.

  I jerked back. “Oh, no,” I said, stuck in that same stupid goofy loop.

  From over my shoulder came Toby’s large Americana. Reflexively, I took it.

  “Toss it at him!” Tabby said.

  So, I did. The scolding cup of coffee splashed onto Mad Dog’s arm since he’d moved forward to block his face at the last minute when Tabby had shouted her instructions. The drink spilled over to his chest. He howled, his attention on pulling away his shirt.

  “Kick him in the dick,” Tabby shouted.

  So, I did.

  Mad Dog must have needed a moment to process what she said. As my knee was one second from making contact with his groin, he jerked his attention to me, and realization dawned across his face. Had the moment not been so scary, I would have called it beautiful. Using as much force as I could, remembering that this was the guy who’d flung me around like a rag doll, I sent my knee as high into his body as it would go.

  And I took pictures of the whole thing, too.

  Mad Dog doubled over. I stood stunned.

  “Run!” Tabby said. And I was propelled into motion.

  “Thanks,” I said. She was lifting up a phone, hopefully to call the police.

  I dashed out the door and ran up the street with no thought to what I was doing or where I was going. I was a block away when it dawned on me I’d done the opposite of what Precious had told me to do. I was running behind the SUV and not toward it. But there was no way in heck I was going to turn back.

  I whipped around the corner, not paying any attention to where I was going and ran smack into a tall, solid wall of a person.

  I screamed and covered my head with my arms.

  “Samantha!”

  I looked through my arms to discover it was Lockett I’d run into. I stopped screaming, but was panting heavily.

  “Come on,” he said and dragged me toward the building. “We need to get you out of sight.”

  We ducked inside a paper store, and Lockett pushed me away from the window against a wall of journals.

  Dear Diary, please don’t let me die.

  Lockett moved closer to me and peered through the window from the edge.

  “What were you thinking going into that coffee shop?” he asked incredulously.

  “I was thinking I could get some coffee and maybe find out who this guy was in a picture with Carson,” I whispered. Though I wasn’t sure why I was. I did feel like I might cry, though.

  “What guy?” His attention traveled between me and the window.

  Using the same dexterity a pig might with a smartphone, I was finally able to pull up the picture. “This guy.”

  Lockett glanced at the screen, his lips a thin line. He finally said, “That’s Ben Fulton. Senator Fulton’s kid.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad you know that. I, of course, had to travel here and get chased by Mad Dog to find that out.” I blew out a breath, then shoved him in the shoulder. “Why are you here?”

  “You’re in over your head,” he said.

  “Really? You think? No thanks to you.”

  “Why the coffee shop?” He glanced from the window to me.

  Should I share what I’d learn? Was he trustworthy? I hesitated, but he clearly knew more than me, and any information now would be a good thing.

  “Apparently, he and Carson were meeting a lot at this coffee shop.”

  Lockett nodded. “That explains a lot.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What does it explain? Enlighten me. It seems everyone in this game knows more than me, and I’m sick of it.”

  “Well,” Lockett said, hemming and hawing. “It’s hard to explain.”

  “Try me.” I crossed my arms.

  The store clerk walked up to us. “May I help you?” She appeared perturbed. Either that or the bun she was wearing was tight and pulling back her facial features, creating a put-out look.

  “No,” I said and waved her off. I didn’t want Lockett distracted.

  “Is there a back door out of here?” he asked.

  “No,” she said.

  He arched a brow. “Really? So you’re telling me that should a fire break out in the front of the store, you’re doomed because there are
no other exits?”

  “Yes,” she said looking down her nose, though her head was tilted back as if he was several feet taller than her.

  “I find that hard to believe,” he said.

  “Why do we need to go out the back? Don’t you know karate or something. You were wearing a black belt, remember?” I poked him in the arm.

  He faced me, his expression haughty. “We are not to use our skills on others unless justified and provoked.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Gosh, I hope that doesn’t happen. That would be horrible,” I said in mock horror. Then I pointed to my face. “I think this is justification and provocation.”

  Lockett sighed. “You might have a point.”

  I contemplated stomping on his foot. Instead, I called Precious. She answered on the first ring.

  “Where are you?” She sounded worried.

  “In a paper shop on—” I glanced at the clerk, wanting her to fill in the rest.

  “On fourth,” she said with bite.

  “On fourth. Middle of the block. It’ll be on your left.”

  “Okay, I’m rounding again. One block away. I’ll go slow on Fourth.”

  I ended the call and pushed Lockett aside to watch for Precious.

  Lockett said, “We might as well go stand out there. They’re probably following her anyway.”

  “Speaking of which, how is it you managed to come upon me at such an opportune time?”

  Lockett huffed. “I’ve been following you. And let me tell you, it has not been an easy task, which is a good thing I guess.”

  That explained the feeling of being watched.

  32

  Saturday

  Lockett and I made it to Precious’s SUV without getting shot. Not that I thought there were gunmen or snipers around us, I just wasn’t going to put anything past these crazies. Whoever they were.

  Leery of taking the ferry and getting trapped, we aimed for the interstate. With no specific destination in mind, we drove toward Kitsap County. Lockett wanted to see if we were being followed; odds were high. Once we were cruising at high speed, I turned to Lockett and pummeled him in the upper arm. Frustrated with getting no response, I whipped out my stun gun and made it crackle. “You better start talking.”

  Lockett’s eyes went wide. “What do you want me to say?”

  “I’d like the truth. Start there.” I clicked the stun gun’s button twice more, making it pop.

  “Can someone fill me in on what’s going on?” Precious asked as we cruised down the interstate.

  “And where’s my drink?” Toby asked.

  “Mad Dog popped up. He’s actually wearing your drink, Toby. Sorry. We can drive through someplace when we get off the interstate.”

  Toby pouted. “I was really looking forward to that drink.”

  “Oh, just puff on your vape pen,” I said in frustration and tossed him my phone. “Here, got some pictures of him. See if you can run the program and find out who he is.”

  “You could have used the RFID program,” Toby mumbled, messing with my phone. He looked at me, puzzled. “There’s no pictures on here.”

  “What?” Incredulous, I tried to stretch over Lockett, who was trapped in the middle, to look. Impossible! I’d pressed the stupid button one point five million times. There had to be one picture on there.

  Lockett leaned toward Toby and checked. “Nope, nothing.”

  I slapped myself in the forehead and plopped back against my seat, dejected. I was the world’s worst PI, and let’s not talk about my inability to take a picture. Of which I had been doing successfully for ten years.

  “But wait,” Toby said and held up a single, bony finger. “What you did do was access the RFID app.” He showed me the screen. “It’s right here next to the photo app. And you pressed the heck out of the button.”

  “Really?” Hope sprang eternal.

  “Totally. Give me a second to run it.”

  Lockett and I stared at him, waiting.

  “By a second I mean a few minutes.” He lifted his vape pen and worked his keyboard with a laziness that drove me berserk.

  I narrowed my gaze and locked eyes with Lockett. “Tell me about Ben Fulton.”

  Lockett sighed. “Ben Fulton is…was…Senator Fulton’s only son. Do you know who Senator Fulton is?”

  “Somewhat.” Thanks to my dad’s investigative prowess. “He’s been on the news, raising a stink about the manner of his son’s death. Police think Ben fell asleep with a cigarette in his mouth, but Senator Fulton said his son didn’t drink or smoke. Tabby, the barista I just met, confirmed that. Said Ben was a real health nut,” I said, bringing Precious and Toby into the loop.

  Lockett stared out the window. “Yeah, he was, which is why I’m inclined to agree with the Senator. Ben died in a fire a day before Carson died. I didn’t put it together at the time because I didn’t know Carson was meeting with Ben.”

  “But Carson drove into a tree that fell on his car and killed him. How can that be staged?” I asked.

  “Did he drive into a tree or was he driven into a tree?” Lockett asked, letting the implications hang there.

  Toby chimed in. “Our bad guy’s name is Vincent Ricci, and he works for Carson and Cooper Security. And get this. This is the same guy Carson asked me to look into right before he died.”

  I tensed. Two things came at me at once. The name of the company Mad Dog worked for and that Ricci had been on Carson’s radar. Lockett swore under his breath and buried his face in his hands.

  “Carson was his real name, his last name.” It made sense really. When I’d said Carson to Tabby, she hadn’t blinked.

  Lockett mumbled something.

  “What?” I asked Lockett. From Lockett’s reaction, I knew this wasn’t gonna be good. “Give me my phone, Toby.” I wiggled my fingers as if to say hurry.

  He tossed it to me. I pulled up the search engine and typed in Carson and Cooper.

  “Don’t do it,” Lockett warned. “You can’t undo it.”

  I chose to ignore him. Carson and Cooper Securities popped up on the screen, a longstanding firm that specialized in providing protection to some of the most influential and or famous people in the world. The firm offered security and threat assessment training to police forces and universities across the nation and had contracts with many governments, including ours.

  I clicked on the About Us tab and up popped a photo of ten people standing in a V pattern. Carson and the guy who had called himself Cooper stood at the point. I read the caption.

  Carson and Cooper was founded by Jake Carson (top right) and Joe Cooper (top left).

  After spending eight years in special forces, Jake realized he liked to play by his rules and left the armed services. He’s applied the skills he learned while serving by offering protection to some of the most influential people in the world. Jake Carson recently left his position of CEO at Carson and Cooper to pursue other interests.

  Joseph Cooper (top left) is a behavioral analyst who’s made it his life’s work to understand the dichotomy between good and bad. He graduated from Harvard and spent a decade working for the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit.

  I enlarged the screen to look at Carson. Jake, I guess, since that was his name. The picture was taken before we met. Here was a guy with a wife, a multi-million dollar company, and essentially the world at his fingertips. Why change his name? Why commit bigamy?

  “Explain,” I said to Lockett. My patience was thin, and time for digging around for the truth was gone. I wanted answers and I wanted them now.

  Lockett pressed his lips together in a thin line, as if he was contemplating what to say. His silence was infuriating. I was desperate for answers, and here was someone who had them. Withholding them was not an option. I whipped out the stun gun and stuck it in his side.

  “Times up. Maybe when you come to, you’ll be quicker to speak.”

  “Wait,” he said as I pressed the button. He twitched and slumped back against the seat. We rode i
n silence until the stun wore off him. It felt like hours, but was only a few minutes. In the meantime, I ate a slice of pizza.

  I offered him a water bottle.

  “That was unnecessary.” He snatched the bottle.

  “Was it?” I asked and looked at Precious. “Was it?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “Next time he wants to sit there and say nothing, you can stun him again and we’ll leave him on the side of the road. He is, after all, a man who could be disbarred for ethical reasons.”

  I looked at Lockett. “There’s an idea. And that’s what truth sounds like.”

  “Fine. I just want you to know I’m not withholding information because I want to. I’m trying not to further complicate your life.”

  I scoffed. “Let me be the judge of that.”

  “And the charges against me are trumped up by Cooper, my guess is to render me incapacitated.” Lockett looked away as if lost in a memory. “A little over a year ago, Joe Cooper engineered a coup of sorts. He had Carson kicked out of the company by using a no-confidence vote. Carson was allowed to keep his stock, but essentially was persona non grata at the company he and Joe started. He also found out that Cynthia, his—ahem—wife, was having an affair with Joe. When he filed for divorce, things became even uglier. That’s when Carson came to me and said he wanted to start over. He had a new identity and kept saying he wanted a fresh start.”

  I snorted with contempt. Learning Carson’s wife had cheated only made me feel slightly better because, ultimately, the selfish acts of these people changed my life forever. “And you helped him become Carson Holmes.”

  Lockett nodded.

  I shook my head. “No, there’s more to it than that. If he simply wanted to start over, then why is Carson’s partner trying to hurt me? Why is everyone looking for something?”

  “I wasn’t sure Cooper was behind this until right now,” Lockett said.

  “You mean you’ve had thoughts that he might be?” I wanted to strangle him but feared if I put my hands on his throat he’d stop talking, and getting information from him was hard enough.

  “I didn’t know. Carson—Jake—kept me in the dark. Likely to protect me.”