by Becky McGraw
“I look forward to it, Mama,” Trace said, but Ronnie saw in his eyes and face that he was just placating his mother. He fully intended on leaving town. He hadn’t changed his mind about that. His mother must’ve seen it too, because her smile wobbled. “We won’t be long. Save me a plate,” he said pushing her away.
Without another glance at her, he and Dave left. Ronnie watched them leave with a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. If she didn’t get something figured out quick, Trace would take off and she’d probably never see him again, and neither would his mother.
That wasn’t happening. Like those women they rescued, his mother had been through enough. Between her son being falsely imprisoned, her being married to Leland Rooks for so long, and him faking his death the woman should be up for sainthood.
“Let’s get busy,” Ronnie said taking a chair at the table.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“I need to talk to Carrie,” Trace said staring down at the cold metal box in his hand. The last effects from his best friend’s career as a police officer. Sean had asked his wife to give it to Trace if anything ever happened to him. It was locked and probably would stay locked. Trace didn’t know if he’d ever have the heart to open up those old memories.
“You’re dead, man,” Seth reminded him. “Carrie thinks you’re dead too. We heard the broadcast on the news this morning that they’ve stopped searching for your body, while I was at her house.”
So he was presumed dead now. That meant the feds and Leland would stop looking for him. As long as he kept his head down, he would be good. After being the scum of the earth for the last three years, the feeling of being nobody now, of being able to reinvent himself into anyone he wanted was a little intoxicating. But it was damned scary too. He sure hoped he could make himself a better man this next go round than he had before.
His ex-partner’s wife was probably happy to hear that news. “That’s ironic it came on while you were with her,” Trace said and sadness settled in his chest.
“It is, but she was pretty torn up about it. She had already given me the box and told me to keep it, or throw it away. She couldn’t face opening it herself. It’s locked, so I didn’t open it either. She said she thought it was just the ball from our championship game in there and a key to his old locker at the station.”
“Is Carrie moving?” Trace hoped like hell she was moving out of the house she had shared with her dead husband. Maybe that would help her start healing and moving on.
“Yeah, she’s almost all packed up. She pulled the kids out of school already, and she’s moving to her daddy’s ranch next week.,” Seth said with a huffed breath.
“I still haven’t talked to my Mama about fronting the money to her for a ranch.”
“Don’t. She needs her family right now. I think moving out to the country to live with them for now is the best for her and for the kids. Maybe later, once all this is settled, you can help her.”
Trace nodded, and grabbed the handle on the box in his arms to swing it at his side. “Thanks for bringing this to me,” he said wondering at the rattle he heard inside of the box as the contents moved from one end to the other.
Dave cleared his throat. “We’re going to try and capture Ray Brown tomorrow night. Just so you know,” he informed. “He’s expecting those men we’re holding to deliver the women to him then. We’re going to turn him over to Beau Bowman with the Rangers once we have him.”
Seth looked surprised, but relieved too. He glanced at Trace. “You going with him with your gut sliced open?” he asked.
“No, Dave is handling it. I wish I could go with him.” Trace would like nothing better than to be the one to take down Ray Brown, because he had a feeling that might lead to taking down Leland Rooks. But if someone saw him, especially Ray, that wouldn’t be conducive to remaining dead so he could reinvent himself if things didn’t work out. He just hoped Dave could get answers out of Ray before he turned him over to the Texas Rangers.
Not that he thought any information Ray gave them would lead to taking Leland down, any more than he thought Ronnie going through all those files she had was going to do that either. Leland was slick. He covered his tracks well. And he had no problem taking out whoever was a threat to him. Even his own son.
The radio attached to Seth’s belt went off and he shook his head, and twisted the knob to turn down the volume. “I’ve got to go,” he said. He met Dave’s eyes. “You be careful tomorrow night, and good luck.”
“Don’t need luck,” Dave said cockily. “I don’t have to follow the same rules you do. I think Ray Brown will figure that out and cooperate like the men we captured did.”
Seth’s eyebrows lifted, and a small smile kicked up the corner of his friend’s mouth. “Well, maybe I need to talk to you about a job. Sometimes I’m handcuffed more by the rules than the prisoners I take into custody. It’s frustrating.”
“I’ve been there, man,” Dave replied with a laugh. He stuck out his hand to Seth and they shook. “It’s nice meeting you, and if you need a job call me.”
“After all this is over, I very well might.”
The thought of working with Dave flitted through Trace’s mind too, but he shoved it back. Who the hell was he kidding? He was an ex-con, and he was on the run from the feds. Dave rode the fence with the law, but he served his purpose to them, so Trace would bet they left him alone. If he hired ex-cons they wouldn’t be so accommodating, he was sure. That would buy trouble the man didn’t need. And besides Trace was a dead man now. That was going to take some getting used to.
He looked rougher now than he had when his picture was plastered all over the television four years ago. That photo they used then had been from the police academy when he was only twenty-three years old. Because of his status as Leland Rooks son, his story and that photo had become national news. When they formally announced his death, they would probably use the mug shot from his arrest instead. He definitely looked older and rougher in that photo. Much closer to how he looked now, not considering the scar he’d picked up in prison. Someone could definitely recognize him from it.
His own country probably wasn’t going to be big enough to hide. Maybe he’d just sneak over the border into Canada somehow. Or Mexico. It was warmer, and he spoke a little Spanish, he could get along there. He definitely needed to be planning his exit strategy, because he didn’t have an ounce of faith that Dave would get anything out of Ray Brown, or that Ronnie would find anything in those files.
“Trace?” Seth said, probably not for the first time, because he spoke pretty loudly and Trace realized his hand was out to him.
Trace took Seth’s hand and shook it. “Thanks again, man…if I don’t see you again…”
Seth’s face flushed, and his grip on Trace’s hand tightened. “Be seeing you man. Leave me a message if you cut out,” his eyes darted to Dave then back to Trace. “But you never know, things might work out.”
Trace snorted. “Not likely, and you know it. Like I said, thanks for everything,” he said pulling his hand back. Trace cleared the lump of emotion that blocked his throat, then said, “You’ve been a good friend, Seth.” Next to Sean, the best friend that Trace ever had.
Seth growled, then took a step forward to give Trace a man hug. He slapped his cheek, before stepping back. “You are such an asshole, how could you not be my friend? We’re just alike.”
“Assholes of a feather?” Trace asked with a laugh.
“Damned straight,” he agreed then looked down at his radio which went off again. He sighed and turned toward his truck. “Call me if I can help.”
“I’m not dragging you into this mess any more than you already are,” Trace replied. “Take care of yourself, Seth.”
He nodded and walked toward his truck and Dave and Trace walked back to the van. When they were inside the van, Dave put the keys in the ignition, but hesitated before he turned the engine over. “Don’t’ take off yet.”
Trace had been in his own head again
, and looked over at him. “What?”
“I said don’t take off yet. I’m going to help Ronnie figure things out. If we can’t figure it out, I’ll help you disappear. She and I talked this morning, and I think I can help you. She told me what happened to you four years ago.”
“Did she tell you Leland paid her off to send me to prison?” Trace asked with a dry laugh.
“He didn’t pay her off. But he paid someone off, or several someones, and we’re going to find out who that was. You just hang tight.”
“I can’t promise you that, but if I do take off, do me a favor and take care of Ronnie. Leland could see her as a threat, and she could be in danger.”
“Nobody is going to have to worry about Senator Leland Rooks very soon,” Dave promised darkly. “But if you take off, I’m out of it. I’m not stepping off into that for no reason.”
“Ronnie is your reason,” Trace replied. “Taking him down isn’t going to solve my problems. The feds are after me, if she didn’t tell you. I shot an agent.”
“That can be explained.”
“Tell Susan Whitmore that. I shot her boyfriend, and she’s not going to be a happy woman. You think Ronnie is tough? Wait until you meet that woman.”
“I’ve met her,” Dave said with a chuckle, as he cranked the van. “I worked with her on an op a while back, and you’re right.”
“Then you know I’m not joking.” That woman could probably kick both of their asses and tie their dicks into bows, before they could blink. She wasn’t a woman to mess with. Trace had done a lot more than that.
“You have bitten off a chunk there, I agree,” Dave replied. “But she’s reasonable too. Once we have enough evidence, I’ll help Ronnie talk to her.”
Trace had a feeling Dave could talk until he was blue in the face, but Susan wasn’t going to be listening to anything he had to say. He’d give it a few days, but he was still going to plan on leaving with or without Dave’s help.
***
Ronnie looked up from the file she was going through when Allison Rooks walked into the dining room with a tall, blonde woman beside her. She had been having a hard enough time focusing with the loud group of women in the living room, laughing and talking while they watched television, without another interruption. Conner seemed to be having the same trouble, so she sent him upstairs a few minutes ago for a shower and a nap. He had been useless to her in the condition he was in.
“Who are you?” she asked with a groan. All they needed was more players in this mess. Trace was going to have a bird. At least he wasn’t here for her to see him. Maybe Ronnie could get the woman out of here, before he and Dave got back.
“I’m Lou Ellen Wells, Allison’s best friend. I’ve come to help,” she informed stepping around Allison.
“You can’t stay here,” Ronnie told her setting her pen down beside the pad where she was making notes.
“I can do anything I damn well please,” Lou Ellen replied with a lifted brow. Ronnie liked her attitude, usually appreciated a strong, outspoken woman, but not right now.
“You can’t stay here,” she repeated as she scraped her chair back to stand.
“I needed her help to get Leland’s bank records,” Allison informed, pushing her friend aside. “I called the bank this morning, but had no way of picking them up.”
Ronnie lost her breath. “You have Leland’s bank records?”
“Of course, I’m his wife. I have access to them all,” Allison said with a smug smile. “My name is even on his campaign fund account. I organized all the fundraising parties.”
“Holy crap,” Ronnie said with a smile herself. “How far back did you go?”
“Four years.”
“Perfect.” That was the missing piece of the puzzle here. Going over Leland’s campaign records weren’t getting her anywhere. He reported what he wanted to report. Probably just enough to convince people he was above board with his campaign funds. If she could reconcile these files with his actual bank records, personal and campaign, maybe she would get somewhere. What they needed was a CPA though, or forensic accountant. This fine accounting was way beyond Ronnie’s area of expertise. “Now, I just have to ask Conner if he knows a good accountant.”
“You’re looking at one,” Lou Ellen said smugly.
“Lou Ellen is a stock broker in Dallas, and a CPA. I thought she could help us,” Allison said with a glance up at her friend.
“What the hell are you standing there for then?” Ronnie asked with a laugh. “Grab a box and a chair, Lou Ellen. I’ll see if I can locate a calculator.”
Lou Ellen lifted the lid on the box in her arms and tilted it forward. “I brought my own.”
“You are a woman after my own heart.” Ronnie shook her head and smiled. The moon, the sun and the stars must be aligning, because she thought maybe, just maybe, they might be able to pull a rabbit out of hat here.
“I didn’t know you had one of those,” Trace said gruffly, as he walked through the doorway to stand beside his mother. His eyes flew to Lou Ellen. “Mama, what is Lou Ellen doing here?” he asked with a frustrated sigh. His mother’s best friend, his aunt, was a good lady, but aggravated the hell out of him most of the time. She was a busybody, always into other people’s business, and a smart mouth just like Ronnie Winters..
“I called her,” his mother said with a tilt of her chin. “She’s here to help us, son. Now shut up and go find something to do other than bother us. We’re busy,” she informed walking over to pull out a chair at the table. “Make yourself useful, and get someone to bring in the boxes from Lou Ellen’s car.”
Other boxes? His eyes moved around the dining room to the boxes stacked four deep against the walls. Going through all of that paper could take year. He didn’t have a year, but if it kept these women out of his hair, he would go bring in more boxes.
“Where do you want me to put them? I shouldn’t be lifting, I’m hurt, but—“
“I’ll get the damned boxes,” Lou Ellen said scraping her chair back to stand. Cutting him a look, she breezed past him.
“I was going to say I’m sure Dave wouldn’t mind bringing them in,” Trace said with a frustrated breath. “She’s always flying off the handle.”
“She’s trying to help you, Trace,” his mother replied with a glance at Ronnie, who was sitting at the table tapping her pen. “We’re all trying to help.”
With all the help people were trying to give him, they were going to help him right back into prison. Someone was going to find out they were here, and that they were digging into those records. “Mama don’t tell anyone else we’re here. You shouldn’t even be here.”
“Neither should you.”
Truer words had never been spoken. But he was. And so were they. He might as well just accept it and stay out of their way. If he could find something to occupy the women sitting in the living room talking like they were holding a quilting bee, he’d be golden. Maybe he could. “I’m going to take the women out to the other house and get them to clean it and fix it up so they can sleep out there tonight.”
“But they’ll be out there alone,” Ronnie said with concern.
Since when did the Shark Lady care about anyone other than herself? It was amazing to him, but Ronnie Winters seemed to be getting attached to the women they had rescued. Well, he was getting them out of the big house. It was full enough, and he wanted to make sure she had her own room tonight, so he didn’t find her in bed with him again. Those women would be fine out at the cabin by themselves.
“They’ll be fine out there for a few days. I’m going to call the lady in charge at the safe house again, and beg her to come sooner than the end of the week. Or maybe she can meet me halfway to Dallas, so I can hand them off.” Once he handed them off, maybe Trace would just keep going. Not come back here. After Dave captured Ray Brown tomorrow night, depending on what he said, Trace might very well decide do that.
The sun was almost down when Trace left the women at the cabin in the woods and
walked into the big house. He could hear conversation coming from the dining room, and almost took the stairs instead of walking into the dining room.
Dave had left with Caleb and Jamie an hour or so ago, without a word to him. He’d also taken their captives with him. Trace had seen them cleaning and reloading their weapons at the van, but before he could break away to go talk to them they were gone. He had no idea when they would be back.
Maybe Ronnie knew, he thought, as he walked to the dining room door.
“What’s going on?” Trace asked, and all three women looked up at him. Conner Lucas poked his head up over the dining room table. He was evidently digging through boxes there.
“You wouldn’t believe the things we’re finding,” Ronnie said excitedly. The small smile she wore widened when she looked at him. “How’re the women doing?” she asked.
“Snug as bugs in a rug out there,” Trace replied. “What did you find?” he asked walking into the room to sit in the chair at the head of the table.
“Unexplained cash withdrawals, large withdrawals, from the campaign account that coincide with dates fundraiser parties were held at Leland’s mansion. Your mother is compiling a guest list from memory, so we can see who all was there.”
Trace laughed. “What’s that supposed to prove?”
“I think Leland made the pay offs at those events. It makes sense. All the players were in one place at one time, and nobody would question why they were together. Those parties provided the perfect place for them to conspire.”
“Come on, Ronnie. How do you think you’re going to prove that money went anywhere other than Leland’s pocket? I’ll bet you he has receipts to prove that money went toward campaign expenses, even though we know better.”
Her face fell a little. “He does have receipts, but it would be easy enough to prove he didn’t spend ten thousand dollars on flowers. Your mother said that was ridiculous.”
They were looking for a needle in a haystack. He had a feeling Ronnie knew that and was grasping at the straws that made up that haystack. “Red, I don’t have the time for this. Proving that could take years.”