by Simply BWWM
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You were scared, and you barely know me. I don’t blame you for being suspicious. We need to be vigilant, and you were doing just that.”
“I could have shot you,” she said miserably.
“I wasn’t worried.”
The TV played on as they sat there, running through the same news stories over and over. She turned her head and watched while he stroked her back and just held her. They were going through the same story as they had earlier. But this time when she listened, Deena could hear what Jake was talking about. They kept using words like “speculation” and “developing” and “updates as we learn more” while they spoke in absolutes.
They were making it seem like Jake was already a suspect in the murder when the most recent video showed the detective leaving the scene just minutes before. It didn’t add up, and Deena was furious. She’d let them get in her head, and she’d pointed a gun at the only person in this world that was willing to pull her out of the path of a murderer and put his own life at risk.
“They shouldn’t do that. It looks like you’re a murderer, and what that detective said didn’t help. Are they even going to look into anyone else?”
“Let’s hope so. Detective Ferris is the one who worked my parents’ death, so I’m not sure how this will pan out. I know it looks bad now. But the truth will come out.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I have to be sure. That’s the only thing that’s keeping me going.”
“Did you meet with that man?”
“I did. There’s a lot more corruption involving Oakfield than I thought, but it’s going to be hard to prove. He’s going to work on it.”
“How?”
“I didn’t ask. But he’s a private investigator known to be a little unorthodox in his approach.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’s been in jail a time or two, but always for the right reasons.”
“Oh man. Shouldn’t you hire someone who can investigate without getting caught?”
“No. I need someone who’s willing to take risks, and Frank Moore fits the bill.”
“If you trust him, then I trust him.”
“That’s good, because he’s the only chance we have right now. I can’t walk into Oakfield’s office myself and-”
“He’s breaking into Oakfield’s office?”
“Something like that.” Jake laughed.
“Man, this is some next level ish. I feel like I’m trapped in someone else’s life.”
He kissed the top of her head.
“I’m trying to get you back to your old life as quickly as possible. I promise. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you got caught up in all this.”
She shrugged.
“My life is far from perfect.”
“How is that?”
“I’m tired of renting a chair at someone else’s salon. I found a place I could afford, but the location sucks, and I can’t make money without customers.”
“Where would the perfect place be?”
“The perfect place?”
“If you could pick any place, and money wasn’t an object, where would you have your salon?”
“Highland Park Village.”
“Now that’s a dream. But a smart place. And the Dallas Country Club is right across the road from the shopping center.”
“I would rent my chairs out to high-end stylists of all types. I just want somewhere for all women to go to get their hair done without having to live in my car to survive.”
“You live in your car?”
She laughed.
“It’s a figure of speech. But to lease something nice that would pay the bills would mean I would have to give up my apartment. Even something Highland Park adjacent costs so much.”
She sighed, shaking her head a little. “It is what it is. I’m going to make it, even if I have to start at the bottom and claw my way to the top.”
They sat in silence for a long time, both watching the news cycle through without really paying much attention, both lost in their own thoughts.
“I have one question for you,” she finally said after a long, comfortable silence wrapped in his arms.
“Anything.”
“How did you know I wouldn’t shoot you? You were so calm.”
He laughed, nuzzling her cheek and squeezing her tight.
“What?” she asked, feigning indignation. “Is my aim that bad?”
“No,” he laughed. “You left the safety on.”
Chapter14
“So, it’s my turn,” she said sometime later.
“Your turn for what?”
“If money was no object, what’s your dream life?”
“Money is no object,” he said wryly. “But to be honest, it isn’t everything.”
“Only people who have money say that stuff. Having enough money to do what I dream of doing would change my life. You have life-changing money and what are you doing with it? I mean, besides altering your Corvette to look like the bat mobile.”
“You’re right. But in my case, having money didn’t keep my dream from being crushed.”
“What dream was that?”
“Being Army Special Forces. I made it through training, and I was about to graduate, but I turned wrong coming out of the obstacle course, and I wasn’t able to hide my old injury after that. The doctor wouldn’t pass me on my physical, so I finished my contract out training other recruits, and when they offered me an Honorable Discharge, I took it.”
“High school football injury?”
“College. How did you know?”
“My brother blew his knee out in high school. It was the final game of his senior year, and he was showboating. He lost all his scholarships, and he really struggled to find his way after that. I saw what having dreams crushed can do to a man who’s planned out his entire life. For what it’s worth, I know that there’s nothing that can ever make that better. I don’t want to diminish your pain just because everything else in your life is made a little easier by being rich. What you’ve been through is proof that anyone can lose anything at any time. I get that. I’m sorry.”
“Wow,” he said quietly. “You know, I haven’t shared what happened with many people, but my friends know what happened. They know better than anyone how much my dreams meant to me, and everyone said the same thing: “you have money; find another dream.” They told me I couldn’t have it as bad as anyone else because I could buy another dream. I didn’t lose any sleep over it, but it pissed me off to hear it. As if my goals don’t matter because I just became a real estate investor instead.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Not at all. And truth be told, I only started investing in real estate when it became clear that I was going to have to beat Oakfield at his own game.”
“So, shattered dreams aside, what would you do if you could do anything?”
“Promise not to laugh?”
“Of course not.”
“I don’t need to work. I have more money than one man could spend in a lifetime. But there are things that money can’t buy, and those are the things I want.”
“What are those things?”
“A family. Kids. A simple life where we live the way we want to live, travel when we want to, and use our free time to give back to the community and change lives. I never understood why my parents put so much energy into philanthropy. They earned their riches, and I didn’t see why they couldn’t just donate to an organization during the holidays and let them do the heavy lifting. That’s what a lot of the elite do. They donate to public broadcasting, so their names come up on commercials, and they give astronomical sums to organizations that put their names in brochures and use a tiny percentage of that gift to actually help people.”
“It’s all for show.”
“It really is. The tax write-off and all the loopholes make it so they almost break even. For pennies on the dollar, they make sure that
everyone knows how good they are. But my dad told me that we humble ourselves by serving those less fortunate. That men who pay others to serve in their place rarely give with good intentions, and they learn nothing.”
“Did you get a chance to go with them?”
“I did. I helped them pass out food at Thanksgiving. Not in a building with cameras like some of their friends did, but on the street. To people who couldn’t make it somewhere warm to share a meal in front of the cameras so that people with the means to do more could pat themselves on the back and declare that they were better than them. We cooked all night, then we loaded up the food and hundreds of divided containers and bottles of water and juice. We served people where they were, and I got it. It wasn’t about the praise or the photo-ops. It was about doing everything to give of ourselves and our wealth.”
“Your parents sounded like amazing people.”
“They were,” he said, his voice sad. “I’m glad I realized that before I lost them.”
“I know this is still so fresh for you.”
“It is. Losing them right after Christmas seemed to make it worse. And I really wonder if that’s part of the reason that my belief that they were murdered was brushed aside. No one wants to work extra during the holidays, and I’m sure they’ve had people too grief-stricken to accept that people can die from an accident at the worst possible time.”
“Is there ever a good time for death?”
“Not really,” he said, chuckling at the irony. “And it’s always too soon.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. I’m so sorry that your parents haven’t gotten justice. I know what it’s like to lose a parent without justice being served.”
“Thank you.”
“I can see why you would want a life like they had. It sounds like they were happy together.”
“I was a very lucky child. I had no idea how lucky until I was much older. I guess they didn’t find your father’s killer?”
She shook her head.
“He was killed at a traffic stop. It was back before they had dashcams on every car. It was a long time ago, and I don’t know much about what happened. I just know what I overheard. He pulled someone over on a long stretch of back country road. He was so far out he even lost his radio signal. They sent someone to his last known location, and when they found him, he was already too far gone.”
“But he didn’t die alone?”
“No, he didn’t. His friend was there with him until the end. That’s the only thing that really comforts me: knowing that he wasn’t alone.”
“I feel the same knowing my parents were together. I know it’s not the same as what happened to your father.”
“We focus on the good things.”
“Exactly.”
Deena leaned against him again, letting everything they’d shared sink in.
“It feels good to share that with someone who understands,” she said. “I’ve only ever told my best friend about all this.”
“Tamika?”
“You remember everything, don’t you?”
“Only when it’s important,” he said, sitting up and untangling himself from her.
Jake sighed, stretching his arms, then looked out the window.
“The sun is up now,” he said. “We can go grab breakfast in the lobby if you want.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be seen together,” she said. “They’ve flashed both our faces on the news since they figured out who owned my car. I need a shower anyway.”
“I’ll grab food for us, then. Any requests?”
“Vodka and orange juice,” she said, laughing. “I’m kidding. Coffee. Definitely coffee.”
“Alright. I’ll be right back.” He kissed her cheek. “I hope this time when I come in, I won’t be staring down the barrel of a gun.”
“I’d say sorry, but I’m really not,” she laughed, jumping up from the couch when he growled in response and tickled her.
“I’m joking, I’m joking,” she said, laughing. She broke away from him, but not before planting one more kiss on his lips. “I’ll see you when you get back.”
She was still laughing when she walked into the bathroom, hurrying to undress and get into the shower. She needed to wash it all away and start fresh. They were in a holding pattern now, but Deena knew that things could change in an instant. She wanted to be ready for anything.
By the time she was out of the shower and dressed, Jake was sitting on the couch with a fresh cup of coffee from the lobby in his hand, and another on the table for her, next to a plate piled high with fancy pastries.
“Hurray for Sunday,” she said. “This is much better than what they’ve been having.”
He handed her the coffee.
“Two sugars, right?”
“Thank you,” she said, wrapping her hands around the warm cup with the protective sleeve and taking a sip. “This is perfect. I don’t know what they do to the coffee here, but it’s wonderful.”
“It’s freshly ground,” he said. “By hand.”
“Is that all?” she laughed.
The TV was still on, repeating the endless cycle of news, sprinkled with political ads.
“There are so many political ads on,” she said. “I hate election years.”
“It’s only going to get worse. The election isn’t until November.”
“It’s going to be a long eight months,” she groaned.
Another ad flashed onto the screen that had Deena scrambling for the remote to turn the volume up.
“This has got to be a sick joke,” she muttered, staring in shock at the television.
“Wow,” Jake said. “Suddenly, it all makes sense.”
“He can’t be running for governor, can he?”
“It looks like he is. That explains a lot. He can’t risk any turmoil in his life right now. If word gets out about the pipeline, he’s done. That’s not to mention the fact that he has had people killed for it.”
“So, what are we going to do now?” she said. “Is Frank going to wait until dark tonight to break into Oakfield’s office?”
“Are you kidding? Of course not. It’s Sunday. Carter Oakfield is running for office, so naturally, he’s making sure that he and his wife are front and center at Dallas Baptist.”
“The mega church?”
“Yep. They live-stream their services, and he makes sure he’s in clear view of the cameras every week. He’s had this planned for a while.”
“So, until lunch time when everyone gets out of church-”
“There’s no one there to stop Frank from finding out what he needs to,” Jake finished.
“What about building alarms?”
“I didn’t ask. He knows what he’s doing. I haven’t met an alarm yet that’s been able to stop him.”
“I hope he does.”
“I’m not the only one who’s interested in taking down Oakfield.”
“Do you think it will be enough?”
“If being able to prove that he’s hired a hitman to eliminate anyone who stands in his way isn’t enough, I don’t know what is. There’s not much Texans take more seriously than the rights to their land and their cattle. My parents might have been rich, but they were respected in the community and well-liked. They gave back so many ways it would be a challenge to find someone who didn’t at least know of who’d been touched by their generosity in Dallas and the surrounding areas.”
“I remember hearing about them showing up with a sandwich truck in Forney after a tornado there.”
“They did,” Jake said, smiling. “What they didn’t mention was the money they tucked into the wrapper of each sandwich. Everyone working, helping, and surviving that day walked away with enough for a hotel and dinner while they waited for the insurance to get the ball rolling.”
“They were amazing people.”
“They were, which is why I can’t just run away from this.”
“Would you leaving actually change anything?”
“But you would still have to give up the rights to dig on your land?”
“I would. And there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell of that happening. But I can’t walk away even if there was a chance. My parents deserve so much better than that. They gave their lives fighting for what was right. The least I can do is make sure that their deaths stand for something.”
“I understand.”
“If you want out, I can get you on a plane. It’s a longshot, but they’re not looking for you. Pick a place; anywhere you want to go.”
She shook her head.
“No. There’s no way. I’m not going to let some corrupt political wannabe run me out of Dallas. This is my home, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Even for a little while?”
“If I run, you know that means I can never come back. The problems will always be here. I’m not leaving and hoping this just blows over.” She shook her head. “Nope. There’s no way.”
Jake smiled, cupping her cheek and kissing her warmly.
“You are something else,” he said. “They don’t know who they’re up against.”
“And don’t you forget it,” she said, kissing him again. “We’re in this together, until the end.”
Chapter 15
Tom Ferris pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath and trying not to fall asleep. The stack of files from the Berrington deaths sat in a teetering pile in front of him, dull and dry as case files often are. Grace sat at her desk across from his, poring over the stack she’d grabbed and feverishly writing notes. She’d been at it for over an hour, and she’d gone through almost the entire stack while Ferris was still perusing the first file folder. He had the photos spread out, recreating the scene in as much detail as he could, but he was frustrated.
“Are you almost done with the photos?” Grace said. “That’s all I lack.”
“I see that. I’ve never seen anyone read that fast.”
“My brother and I used to challenge each other to see who could read faster.” She smiled, a single dimple showing up when she did. “I like to win.”