All Bets Are Off: A Samantha True Novel

by Rose, Kristi

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  Toby grunted. “Good thing I grabbed some tools from the office the other day. In my bag is a black puck. Basically it acts like a hot spot, gives us access and routes our location to the office in Wind River.” Precious picked up his bag and ruffled through it before coming out with a round black puck. She placed it on the center console.

  Toby continued, “Use it to stay in touch with us. Stay off your network. Keep your phone in airplane mode until you need to contact one of us and then use the puck.”

  I was speeding down the lanes, hoping no one was planning on backing out of their spot. The tires squealed as I took the curves hard and fast.

  “He’s following us,” Lockett said.

  I exited the garage going over thirty, which was really fast when you were in a parking lot with speed bumps. I hit one and our SUV caught air.

  Toby howled when we bumped hard back to the ground.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sakes,” Precious said. “You haven’t been shot. You’ve been grazed. Like a skinned knee. Stop being so dramatic.”

  “Why don’t you get shot and tell me it doesn’t hurt,” Toby said angrily.

  “Bring it,” Precious said. “Visualize the pain going away.”

  “Or I could visualize you going away,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “You can go into the ER alone if you want,” Precious retorted.

  Wisely, Toby said nothing.

  I fishtailed out of the parking lot, the ER a straight line ahead of me. The curved drive up to the ER had only one ambulance but was clear of other vehicles. A cop car sat outside the drive, the cop standing next to it. I sped toward it and came to a screeching, sliding stop at the entrance doors.

  “You drive,” I told Lockett and watched in the rearview mirror as the black SUV came up behind me. I jumped out of the car and ran around the front to the ER entrance pad that opened the automatic doors. Inside were the hospital staff and two more cops. Maybe one was a security guard.

  “Help,” I yelled. “My friend’s been shot.” I ran back out to the passenger side of the SUV and opened Toby’s door, hospital staff and cops following me.

  Mad Dog, AKA Ricci, got out of his SUV and narrowed his gaze at me. He was dressed in dark colors with a blazer. There was a bulk of something under one arm.

  I gave him a smile, pointed my finger at him, and yelled, “Gun!”

  People around me dropped to the ground. Ricci froze. The cop by the patrol car used it for cover and pointed his weapon at Ricci.

  “Hands up,” people in uniform were yelling.

  Toby and Precious low-shuffled into the ER with Toby’s laptop bag flung over Precious’s shoulder. I slowly stepped to our SUV and opened the front passenger door. Lockett was in the driver seat. Ricci had his hands up as the cops surrounded him. One patted him down and removed a gun from what I guessed correctly was a shoulder holster obscured by his blazer. Another man was being escorted out of the black SUV. Everyone’s attention was on them. I climbed into Precious’s SUV and turned to Lockett. He was my ally now. He better be on the up and up.

  “I need a destination,” Lockett said.

  “Senator Fulton’s house. We need some bigger guns on our side, and I’m thinking he’s our best hope.”

  34

  Saturday

  We drove to Bellevue, Seattle’s most expensive suburb. The senator’s home was on the water facing Lake Washington with views of Mercer Island, the Seattle skyline, and both the Olympic and Cascade Mountains. A small cottage in this area sold for over a million.

  Today’s “excitement” had me sweating something fierce, and there was a good chance I smelled. That with my bruised face were gonna make looking authentic tricky.

  Knowing Precious and Toby were in the ER, I accessed the Wi-Fi puck. Instantly, a text message came in.

  One from Toby had a video attachment. The message read. We’re doing nothing but waiting. Managed to get audio.

  I shared this with Lockett.

  Lockett pulled into the parking lot of a fancy pizza restaurant. “Let’s hear it,” he said.

  The video started.

  Bolt: It has to be this land. No other parcel offers access to the highway or river like this land.

  Cooper: The Indian is causing lots of trouble. You might have more problems and attention than you want.

  Bolt: Get rid of him and anyone else in our way.

  “Carson and Cooper didn’t run a legit firm?” I asked Lockett.

  Lockett looked puzzled. “Their company is legit. This is probably some sort of side hustle.”

  “A side hustle doing what? What does land have to do with protecting people?” I thought about Carson and Cooper’s security business.

  Lockett grunted in frustration. “Well, I could see their business protecting the landowners getting harassed.”

  Which Carson had sorta done with Graycloud and the security system he’d provided.

  I said, “But this meeting was clandestine and about taking out the landowner.”

  Lockett nodded. “Seems extreme to kill a landowner just so you can put up a fancy resort. There has to be more to it.”

  I recalled what Dad had said when I’d met him and mom for dinner. “Drugs maybe?” I shared the stories about how these resorts were going up in various towns near reservations and main interstates but were shells for drug running. My gut told me I’d hit the nail on the head.

  “That makes sense. And while it sounds good that Carson was trying to stop Cooper and Bolt, my guess is it wasn’t for altruistic reasons. When he came to me for a new identity, revenge was the only thing he wanted. I think I knew that then but didn’t want to believe it.” Lockett looked sad. It would seem that while I was learning the true nature of the man I married, Lockett was learning the same about his friend.

  Senator Fulton’s house clung to the side of a foothill and sported both a pool and a tennis court. The driveway was long and approached the house from the side. Several cars were parked along the drive. We were met by a beefy man in fatigues, standing outside a guardhouse next to a set of iron gates.

  “Senators don’t have government assigned security, do they?” I asked.

  “Nope,” Lockett and.

  So Fulton hired private security. I found that interesting, only because I was now aware of Carson’s original company. Was this beefy man an employee of Carson and Cooper? I was nervous about Senator Fulton being our white knight, and seeing this security guy added to my doubts. We were gambling that he was an ethical man, basing our assumptions on his actions in the Senate and the recent statement he made about his son.

  The man came to the driver’s door. His gaze swept through the car, assessing us.

  “Do you have an appointment?” he asked in a no-nonsense voice. His hand remained on his hip where his weapon was located. I’d seen enough movies to know this could go sideways fast.

  I leaned across Lockett. “No, we do not. My name is Samantha True. I need to speak to the Senator about his son and a person we have in common.” I didn’t want to give everything away.

  He blinked once. “The senator has had a lot of crazy people coming here to say they know things about his son.” Unspoken meaning, he thought I was another crazy.

  “Could you please call the senator and tell him that I have a video he might want to see that could prove his son was murdered.”

  Another blink.

  I clapped Lockett in the shoulder with the back of my hand. “This man was the best friend of Carson Holmes, I mean, Jake Carson. I ah…had a relationship with Jake. I have”—I held up the severed finger hard drive—“something here from Carson to give to the senator.”

  Something flickered in the guy’s eyes. Maybe it was the finger or mentioning Carson’s name. He said, “The senator is hosting a wake. Now isn’t a good time.”

  Our timing sucked, but I pressed on. “I’m just trying to do the right thing here,” I pleaded.

  The man h
esitated, then said to Lockett. “Don’t move this car an inch.”

  “No, sir,” Lockett said.

  At the guardhouse, the guy picked up a phone. He spoke with someone for several minutes then returned. “Let me see your ID,” he said to me.

  I dug through my purse with nervous hands and retrieved it.

  Guard man glanced at the ID, then passed it back. He pointed one finger at me. “You and only you can go in. The senator is entertaining, so you’ll only have a few minutes of his time.”

  “Wait, no,” said Lockett.

  “That’s the deal,” guard man said.

  “It’s okay,” I said. This was mine to handle anyway, without backup.

  “Park and wait for her over there,” guard man told Lockett while pointing to a turn-around spot in the long, wide driveway. I climbed out and gave him a parting look over my shoulder. While guard man was directing him to turn around, I turned on my phone’s voice recorder.

  Guard man walked me halfway up the drive and pointed to a door where guard guy two was waiting.

  The inside of the house was overwhelming. Overstated in some rooms, simple in others. Opulent and extravagant with TVs that came down from the ceiling. Built with traditional PNW flair, the motif was expensive lodge house with local granite and a tree growing in a room I assumed was the solarium. We walked by it on the way to the room where I was told to wait, the senator’s office I presumed.

  The walls were lined with shelves and books on local tribes, Tony Hillerman novels, Stephen Ambrose history novels, and several pictures of the senator’s family. Ben appeared to be the only child. A surge of grief coursed through me as I considered his loss and how hurtful what I was going to share would be. I held a picture of Ben standing next to the PCT southern terminus post. Two thumbs up, a sun-faded backpack at his feet, a full, scraggly beard on his face. Ben had nice eyes. And his desire to do right was what probably got him killed. We were all pawns in this game started by Cooper and Bolt.

  “Ben wanted to be a public servant as well. He loved the outdoors and felt they needed to be conserved,” a man behind me said. The senator had slipped into the room from a different door.

  “I’m sorry for your loss. I didn’t know Ben. But I think I would’ve liked him.” I sounded so lame.

  The senator, a tall, broad-shouldered man, looked haggard. He was dressed in casual slacks and a polo shirt but grief etched his face.

  I stuck out my hand. “My name is Samantha True. My dad covered you a few times for his paper. He speaks highly of you.” Credibility would go a long way with the senator. Even if it wasn’t my own, but my dad’s.

  Confusion ran across his face, then he said, “You’re Russ True’s kid?”

  I nodded and smiled slightly.

  The senator nodded once. “I read his sports stuff every day. Pick my fantasy football team based on his predictions. He’s never let me down.”

  I chuckled. “He takes his league seriously.”

  An awkward moment of silence hung between us.

  I cleared my throat. “Senator Fulton, I was…um…in a relationship with Carson Holmes, I mean Jake Carson. I believe you know who he is.”

  The senator nodded, leaned against his desk, and crossed his arms.

  I continued, “When Carson died, he left me a safety deposit box with some files and a video in it. There’s a picture of Carson and your son talking at a coffee shop called Daily Grind.” I pulled the photo up on my phone and showed him. “Carson also geo-tracked his own movements and those of your son’s. Over the past three months, I can show them meeting several times. I think Carson was trying to stop a land grab by his former partner, Joe Cooper, and Senator Bolt. Because of Ben’s work with #Conserve, my guess is Carson was trying to get development restrictions on the land.” I pulled up the video. “What I have here is upsetting.” I pressed play and handed it over to him. “I can’t speak fully about the conversation in the video. I only have pieces. But I do know that both Carson and Ben were killed a few days after this was shot.”

  He watched the video, expressionless. When it was done, he handed over my phone. “I’ve seen a different version of this video, Ms. True. The version I saw had a different audio track.”

  “Shot from a different angle?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  Man, Joe Cooper was good. All along he’d been looking for this video and, afraid he’d never find it, had preempted its viewing by creating a different “version.”

  “As far as I know, mine is the real deal. The guy who gave it to me is dead. I think that speaks to its authenticity as well.” Using my expertise in photography and my visual memory skills I pointed to the video. “Does your video have a full moon? Are the men dressed the same?”

  He thrust my phone back to me. “What do you want me to do with this?”

  I was stunned. Not by his lack of response, but by the heart of the question. Because if he didn’t know what to do with it, how could I be the one to guide him?

  “The right thing, I suppose. I mean, that’s what Ben was trying to do.” There was a small flutter in the senator’s blink. A tell. My dad, the poker king, had taught me that. Something I’d said had hit its mark.

  A knock came at the door, and the senator beckoned someone to enter.

  Joseph Cooper stepped into the room.

  With a whoosh sound, all the air left the room as panic flooded over me. Thankfully, he left the door open behind him because the urge to run was so overwhelming my knees shook.

  “I hate to interrupt, but the other guests are asking about you, Senator Fulton.” He nodded his head once at me. “Miss. True. Good to see you again. Though it looks like you’ve had some trouble.”

  Anger shot through me like a flare. “No thanks to you and that goon you hired. What’s his name?” I made like I was thinking hard. “Vincent Ricci? Tell him next time I’ll be more prepared.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Cooper said.

  I rolled my eyes. Disgusted by the simple fact that his greed had caused all this chaos in my life. “Shame on you. Once upon a time you were probably a good man. Carson was your friend. Your company gave people peace of mind. But I get that means nothing to you. Money is your master. I have what you want, and I’m taking it public. Let the chips fall where they may.” I faced the senator. “Thanks for your time,” I said and moved to leave, but paused to stand in front of Joe Cooper and looked him square in the eye.

  “What?” he said, clearly miffed.

  “I just wanted to know what a traitor looks like so that next time one sits down beside me and tells me lies, I’ll be able to recognize their brand of crazy.”

  Joe snorted with a smugness I wanted to knock right out of him. Spurred by anger, I stomped really hard on his foot. It was all I could come up with. I then strolled from the house, trying to look confident…but I was desperate to run.

  I walked past the gate with a wave to the guard, beelining straight for the SUV.

  Lockett jumped when I whipped open the door.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said and tucked my trembling hands under my legs.

  “So?” Lockett said, heading down the drive.

  “So the senator was entertaining Joe Cooper, who I just threatened. We’re on our own. The Senator has been corrupted or always was.” Though I found it hard to believe he’d be okay with sacrificing his only child to whatever cause.

  I’d just played our one hand. Now, Cooper knew everything I had. In my head I’d imagined a David versus Goliath situation, but in this story, the Goliath was going to win. They were too cunning, too powerful.

  “So where to now?” Lockett asked.

  “We need to pick up Precious and Toby. Then home,” I said. “Maybe Dad will run a story in his paper if he can verify facts. There’s going to be fallout. Now we just wait for it to come.”

  35

  Sunday/Monday

  By the time we made it to Wind River, it was Sunday morning. Lo
ckett was sticking with us, mumbling something about the adventures Carson forced him into and how he should be in Australia hanging ten. Toby and Precious were abnormally quiet. Toby wasn’t even puffing on his pen. My guilt about his injury and subsequent four stitches was massive. He made a point of saying he was still helping because he didn’t want there to be a next time, afraid if he were shot again, the bullet would do more than graze him.

  We huddled at the newspaper in Dad’s office and combed through the files Toby had decrypted. If Carson’s notes and stolen emails from an account that belonged to Cooper were to be believed, Cooper was diversifying into the drug trade. Apparently, he was using Carson and Cooper’s staff for murder for hire and protection of scumballs. Senator Bolt had been the first client. Who was the target? Carson hadn’t figured it out, but Graycloud’s name was on the list he’d started.

  Lockett explained that if Bolt, a senator who sat on the Appropriations Committee, Homeland Security, and a ton more, wanted to have someone rubbed out, Bolt could own the political climate. He would have politicians in his pocket and so much pull on the inside he would basically be creating his own wealth. Never mind the money he would make from the drug trade.

  It was hard to say definitely what Carson’s motives were. Initially, it looked like he was acting out of revenge toward Cooper for kicking him out of the company. Like he wanted to sabotage Cooper’s new business stream.

  The realization of this fact was sickening. Little comfort was found in the fact that somewhere along the way he had changed his approach. Emails to Ben Fulton showed Carson was trying to get the land my parents and the others owned protected through environmental measures. But this was just Carson’s newest approach to stop Cooper from getting what he wanted. Revenge. Spite. Retaliation. His hatred and anger were at the core of his actions.

  Of course, sharing all our information about Carson meant Dad learned about Carson’s real wife but had been gracious enough not to say a thing. He wrapped me in his arms and told me how much he loved me. I was under no illusion that we wouldn’t have the conversation about Carson’s other life, when the timing was better.