by Brenda Novak
A hand touched his shoulder, jolting him awake. He had fallen asleep at the desk. He looked upward, squinting, and tried to focus. “Mom. What is it? What’s wrong?”
She leaned over and kissed his unshaved jaw. “It’s past noon. Your sister and I are running to the store. I wouldn’t bother going, but yesterday I had told one of the men watching the house that we were going out this afternoon. I’m afraid if we don’t stick with the plan, they might grow suspicious, especially after last night.”
“Good idea.” He straightened in the chair and glanced around the room. Papers and files were scattered around his feet.
“Angela is downstairs.”
He relaxed.
“She’s a sweet girl. She seems to be very fond of you.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I’m sorry about last night…you know…the things your sister said. You know how prickly she can be. She’s been worried about me.”
“I know, Mom. It’s okay.”
“I’ll let you get back to your work. Don’t peer out any of the windows or move around downstairs too much. They might see you.”
“We’ll be careful.”
“I have another box for you—all the mail I’ve been collecting for you over the years. I brought it in from the garage. It’s downstairs.”
He stood so he could gather her in his arms. “I love you, Mom. You know that, right?”
She gave him another long squeeze before pulling away and walking out the door. She was trying to be strong, but he could see that his sister was right. Grayish circles framed her eyes. She was worn out.
A few minutes after he heard the door open and close, Angela joined him upstairs.
“Any luck?”
“The good news is, I got in.”
“But?”
“But there are more transactions than I imagined. This might take a while.”
She sat on the edge of the bed. It was clear that Angela was troubled by something. “What is it?”
“Your sister wants us to leave.”
“Yeah. She made that pretty clear last night.” Jason narrowed his eyes. “Did she say something to you?”
Angela nodded. “She was angry, Jason. She thinks it’s best if we were gone before they come back.”
“That’s too bad. We’re not going anywhere.” A tic began to leap in his jaw. “Anything else?”
“I overheard your mom trying to calm her down. She asked her to take a seat and concentrate on taking calming breaths. They counted to ten together.”
“Tracy always seemed a bit off growing up. I need to talk to her and find out what’s going on.”
Angela nodded. “Your breakfast is downstairs and your mom left a box of mail for you to sort through. Why don’t you go eat while I take over for a while, okay?”
“I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”
Jason stood.
Angela made her way to the chair in front of the computer and asked, “I’m just looking for any deposit or withdrawal over fifty thousand dollars, correct?”
“That’s right.” He kissed her on the top of the head, then headed downstairs. As he looked around the house, every object in the room flooded him with recollections: the bronzed statue on the coffee table, the tiled vase he’d broken and then secretly glued back together, the pictures lining the mantle.
He picked up one of the photos. Jason and his dad were sitting in a boat, fishing poles in their hands. Seeing the grin on his dad’s face made him smile. He missed him. His dad had passed away from heart failure before Jason was convicted of murder. For that Jason was thankful.
He ate a bowl of cereal, then settled into his dad’s favorite chair and began to look through the box of mail. His first inclination was to toss it all. But as he sorted through the envelopes at the top of the pile, a bank statement caught his eye. He opened it and pulled out the statement. It was for the account he’d set up before he left for prison. ACCOUNT CLOSED was stamped across the middle of the page in bold red letters.
Odd.
He sifted through the rest of the box, pulling out every bank statement he could find. The earlier statements, around the time of his imprisonment, reflected the correct balances. While Jason was incarcerated, Colin had made deposits just as he’d asked him to do. Jason had also given his mom full access to his account, so her name was listed beneath his.
Jason gave the most recent statement another look: ACCOUNT CLOSED. Zero balance.
He ripped open the rest of the envelopes, examining each statement hastily until he finally found one that showed a withdrawal of fifty thousand dollars. After putting the statements in order by date, he saw that the withdrawals were made every few months after that first one. It wasn’t until two years after the first withdrawal that another name was listed beneath his mom’s name: Tracy Caldwell.
His insides twisted.
Nothing made sense.
Without putting much thought into what he was doing or where he was going, he made his way up the stairs and into his sister’s bedroom. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he didn’t like the questions running through his mind.
Why was his sister’s name on his bank statement? What happened to millions of dollars? Who closed the account?
He found Tracy’s Smith & Wesson in the nightstand next to her bed. What was she doing with a gun, anyway? And why had she seemed so fearful this morning? Given her state of mind, he shoved the 9mm into his back pocket. He then went through every drawer and shelf in her room, rifling through her things.
Nothing. Not until he reached deep into the back of a bottom dresser drawer and pulled out a notebook. The pages were blank, but when he went to slide it back where he’d found it, a picture slipped out from the middle pages. It was a three by five photograph that had been cut at weird angles, so that only two people were left in the picture: Dirk and Tracy.
Jason remembered that day. It had been their first company picnic: Hot dogs, hamburgers, music. He and Colin had been posing next to them while Sophie took the snapshot.
Why would his sister cut him and Colin out of the picture?
He turned every page.
Stuck into the back of the notebook was an x-ray of some type. Upon closer examination, he realized it was a sonogram. The name Tracy Caldwell was printed on the upper left-hand side. Tracy? Pregnant?
His heart raced.
Dropping everything on the bed, he looked around, then headed for the closet, his mind whirling with speculation. He searched through coat and sweater pockets, then pushed clothes on hangers to the side so he could see if anything was on the floor. He glanced inside boots and shoes. On the shelf above his head were more clothes. He pushed them to the side, too. Shoved so far back on the shelf he could barely reach it was a shoebox. He brought it down and set it on the bed next to everything else. When he saw what was inside, he felt nauseated.
It was a portable voice synthesizer.
It took him a moment to find his breath.
He shoved the picture and the sonogram inside the box, tucked it under his arm, and headed downstairs. As he approached the landing, the front door opened, and Tracy walked in. His mom was right behind her. She quickly shut the door and said, “I hope they didn’t see you.”
Tracy was staring at the box under his arm. “Have you been going through my things?”
“Were you in love with Dirk Taylor?”
Tracy did her best to look horrified. “No!”
“I saw the sonogram. You were pregnant with his baby.”
His mom paled. “What’s going on, Jason? What are you talking about?”
“Remember the key witness and the attorney I told you about? The two people who were bribed?”
“He’s insane, Mom. Don’t listen to him.”
His mom went to Jason’s side, confusion in her eyes. “I don’t understand.”
“Both the lawyer and the key witness at my trial told me that they never met the person who paid them off. Whoever was trying to frame
me used a voice synthesizer.”
Mom shook her head. “I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s a voice changer like the one I found in Tracy’s room.” He handed her the box.
She looked inside, but pulled out the picture and the sonogram instead.
“I also found my bank statements in the box of mail you left for me. Millions of dollars are missing and the account was closed. Tracy’s name was on the account.”
“But how?” Mom asked. “I never pulled out any money.”
“I gave Tracy power of attorney to sell my condo. She must have used it to get access to my account.” He looked at Tracy.
“Is that what you did?” Mom asked. “Did you steal your brother’s money?” Her eyes widened. “That’s how you and Benjamin were able to buy that big house in Granite Bay.”
Tracy stiffened. “Why would you listen to a convicted killer, Mom? He’s a fugitive. He’s putting us all in danger by being here.”
“Why did you kill him?” Jason asked Tracy.
Tracy whipped about and rushed toward the stairs.
“If you’re going for your gun, don’t bother.”
She looked over her shoulder, saw the gun in his hand, then sank down onto the step and buried her face in her hands. “He told me he loved me,” Tracy finally managed. “He said that we would be together forever. I didn’t care about the other women because I thought he would eventually come to his senses. But then I found out I was pregnant with his baby.”
Mom stared at her daughter in horror.
“Don’t look at me like that. The bastard wanted me to have an abortion! He wanted me to kill your grandbaby. I refused, but in the end, I lost the baby anyhow.”
A phone inside Tracy’s purse began to ring.
Behind Tracy, Angela stood at the top of the stairs, holding the cell phone he’d taken from the man who had tried to kill him after he’d met with his sister.
Everything was beginning to make sense. He’d always written off his sister’s aggressive behavior as just the way she was. His friends had always considered his sister to be peculiar. Jason put a hand to his temple. “It wasn’t good enough that I spent eight years in prison. You wanted me dead, too. Why?”
Mom inhaled an unsteady breath.
Tracy came to the bottom of the stairs and set an accusing gaze on Jason, her chin lifted high in defiance. “Dirk was the best thing that ever happened to me. He understood me. He said I wasn’t the oddball everyone else made me out to be. He told me he loved me.”
Jason’s insides were in turmoil. Of all the scenarios he’d thought up over the years, this was one he’d never imagined. “So you killed him?”
The wild look in her eyes caused a chill to work its way through his body.
“Didn’t you hear a word I just told you? He wanted me to kill our baby! He said he loved me, but it was a lie. I started following him, and watched him having a great time with a perky little blonde. I wanted to kill her, but in the end I decided to kill Dirk instead.”
“And pin the murder on me, your own brother?”
“What was I supposed to do? I was at your house. You had just set the knife on the kitchen counter, and that’s when my idea began to take on a life of its own. So I figured you’d go to jail.” She sneered. “Mom and Dad’s perfect little boy. In jail!”
Mom pointed a trembling finger at Tracy. “Your father and I loved you both the same. You were always so, so…hard to please, though.” She put a hand over her heart. “I should have kept a better eye on things. How could I have been so blind to it all?”
“It’s not your fault,” Jason said as he slipped his arm around his mother, worried as she fought to catch her breath.
“Please tell me you didn’t hire anyone to kill your brother.”
Tracy looked at her mom then, her face a maze of angry lines. “You pushed me to this. You all did.”
Mom turned around, walked to the front door, and opened it wide. “It’s time for you to turn yourself in.”
Chapter Seventeen
Six Months Later
Montpelier, Vermont
The high-pitched sound of the alarm snapped Angela out of pleasant dreams of sandy beaches and warm sun. She thought about hitting snooze, but tapped the off button instead. It was Monday, and she had to be at work by eight.
As she waited for the coffee to brew, she scrambled an egg, then checked the phone for messages. No calls. She hadn’t heard from Jason in nearly three weeks.
After Tracy and Jason were both arrested, Angela had stayed with Mrs. Caldwell for a while. They drove together to the prison every few days and were vigilant about keeping the case in the media and pushing to get Jason out of prison.
Tracy was looking at life behind bars.
Jason had yet to be vindicated. His new lawyer assured Mrs. Caldwell that he would be cleared, but these things take time, he’d said.
Upon returning home to Montpelier, Angela learned that Rob and Christine were no longer together. When Rob found out she was back home, he repeatedly asked her out. Finally, she agreed to meet him for coffee and made it clear it was over between them.
Since then, she’d been keeping busy. Unfortunately for the people who had passed away, work had picked up at the morgue. She’d also applied for re-entry to medical school. Being on the run with Jason had made her realize how short life was. There was no time like the present to aim high and fulfill her dreams.
After locking up the apartment, she made her way toward her Volvo parked at the curb. She couldn’t look at the car without thinking about Jason. She missed being with him. It didn’t take much for her to remember his smile, or how she melted when he looked into her eyes and held her close.
She was afraid she’d gotten a parking ticket when she saw a slip of paper tucked under her the windshield wiper. The note said: “You look beautiful.”
She whipped around, and saw Jason standing a few cars away. His hair had grown. His eyes were bright—that haunted expression was gone.
“I was in the area,” he said, coming her way, “and thought I’d stop by to say hello.”
She jumped into his arms. He smelled so familiar, so good. She pulled away to have a better look at him. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
“I missed you.” He kissed her, his mouth a whisper on her lips until she pulled him closer and deepened the kiss. After she looked up into his eyes again, he retrieved an envelope from his back pocket and handed it to her.
“What’s this?” She ripped it open before he could answer. “Two tickets to Paris! You’re allowed to fly?”
“I’ve been fully exonerated, Angela. I’m a free man. I want to see the world, and I want to see it with you. I figured two weeks in Paris would be a good start.”
“How is that possible? I thought Tracy emptied your accounts.”
“I’m in the process of selling the house and everything else Tracy bought with the money. But that account only comprised half of my share of monies made from the sale of the company. Colin invested the other half in stocks, which happen to be doing very well.”
Stunned, unable to believe he was standing in front of her as a free man, she turned and ran down the walkway leading back to her apartment.
“Where are you going?”
“To call my boss. I think I need a day off.”
He laughed.
She laughed, too, and then ran back to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed his chin, his jaw, his lips. “I can’t believe this is happening.” Breathless, she looked into his eyes again. “You’re truly free. How does it feel?”
“Indescribable. For the first time in years, I have the power to choose…love, life, happiness…it’s all up to me.”
“I love you, Jason Caldwell.”
“I love you, too.”
About Theresa Ragan
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Theresa Ragan has garnered six Golden Heart nominations in Romance Writers of America's prest
igious Golden Heart Competition for her work. Since releasing her first book in March 2011, she has sold over one million ebooks. In 2012 she signed with Thomas & Mercer.
Theresa writes medieval time travels, contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and thrillers under the name T.R. Ragan. Click here for a list of all her books in the bestselling Lizzy Gardner series.
Join her newsletter so you don’t miss new releases and for a chance to win $50 each month! You can find Theresa on the web at www.theresaragan.com | Facebook: AuthorTheresaRagan | Twitter: @theresaragan | email: [email protected]
Random Acts
by Erica Spindler
“Don’t forget in the dark what you learned in the light.”
—author unknown
Chapter One
Noon
New Orleans, Louisiana
Detective Michaela Dee Dare’s stomach growled. Loudly. One of those deep rumbles that would’ve been heard clear to the back of church on a packed Sunday morning. If she went to church.
Micki had given up church and praying to an invisible father for help a long time ago. Now she put her faith in the tangible. Her own skills. The gun at her hip, the shield that gave her the power to protect herself.
These days, she would not go down without one hell of a fight.
Lessons learned the hard way.
Up ahead, the blue lights of a lone cruiser flashed in front of a big-ass mansion. She’d pulled a temporary assignment in the Second District. Uptown. Bounded by Louisiana and Orleans Avenues and the Mississippi River. The highest priced real estate in New Orleans. St. Charles Avenue, Tulane and Loyola Universities, Audubon Park and the Zoo.
Ritzy-titzyville.
She usually worked the Ninth District. Not quite down on its luck, not quite middle class. Which suited her just fine. People who dealt with real life everyday; people who knew who they were and where they belonged.
Here, the phony-factor ran high. Real high. Sort of like the crazy club she’d grown up in. Mama’s narcissism, Aunt Jo’s desperation. Grandma Roberta’s complete denial of reality.