Foster Justice

by Colleen Shannon

  With a bitter little smile at his long silence, she turned away. “I get your drift. Good-bye, cowboy. Hope you love those gray days. You’ll build a strong case without my cooperation; you’re good at that.”

  Chad took two long strides and blocked her path. “Please, Jasmine, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going on with you and Kinnard, truly. Maybe you are innocent as you say. I know you’ve done a lot to atone for anything you might have done in the past—”

  “Atone?” Her voice rose in pitch, and he saw the flush of anger build in her cheeks again, banishing the lingering sadness in her eyes.

  He rushed on. “I only know that without your help it will be much harder for me to get enough evidence to convict him.”

  “And that’s the only reason you want me to go with you?”

  It was his turn to flush. How did he answer that? He wasn’t sure of anything else, but he wanted her; and if they’d met under other circumstances and she’d had a real job, he’d probably be on bended knee before her now. But he couldn’t take her to Texas on a lie. They’d met that way, and it had been disastrous. “For now, yes.”

  The satchel slipped off her shoulder, but she didn’t seem to feel it. “And where would I stay?”

  “The department has a fund for witnesses in major cases, and I’m sure the Feds would pay for a hotel—”

  She turned away, scooping up her bag. “Not interested. If you need me to testify at a later date, depending on the circumstances I’ll consider it. However, at this point the only compelling evidence against Kinnard is here in California, so that seems unlikely.”

  No shit, Sherlock. She knew the legalities, and he had to respect her for that. “Not if he’s apprehended in Texas and you help us build a case.”

  “I’ll leave my new contact information with Riley. Good-bye, Chad. Please go.”

  He tried to see her face, but she’d turned away, marched into her room and closed the door on him, literally shutting him out.

  In a quieter Amarillo, Mary folded her legs primly in the chair next to the captain’s desk as Sinclair continued to drill her. “I’m within my rights as a geologist to conduct studies on Trey’s half of the land—”

  “Yes, well, the Del Mar contract terms are questionable, at best,” Sinclair shot back. “The FBI task force investigating land swindles here in the Panhandle, with our office’s cooperation, subpoenaed the title company for a copy of the contract Trey signed. It was almost identical to several this Del Mar Corporation finagled over the last year with other landowners. They’ve all agreed on one thing: None have seen a dime in revenue despite the fact that pumpjacks are moving up and down like seesaws. Seems this Del Mar Corporation negotiates lower royalty rates than industry norms, and when they kick in it’s with huge exemptions. The contract even includes some working interest when it should be land royalty straight off the top. Working interests are often used to dilute investment returns, as I’m sure you know, but they’re very difficult to fight in court.”

  Mary leaned forward. “Look, I didn’t come here to debate contract law with you. I sent home all the rig crew working the Foster parcel yesterday. You can decide later if you want to charge me. For now I’d remind you I came forward voluntarily because of my concern for Trey Foster’s safety. Do you want to indict Thomas Kinnard for land fraud or don’t you?”

  Sinclair rubbed his somewhat puffy but still keen blue eyes. Mary realized he looked tired and wondered what else he was juggling.

  “Of course. Have you ever met Chad Foster, Trey’s brother?”

  Mary shook her head. “No, but Trey’s talked about him.”

  “Is there another redhead in California who looks like you that perhaps Kinnard introduced Chad to?”

  Oh . . . That was it. Now everything made sense. Mary leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes briefly. Kinnard had outfoxed them all by using Jasmine as her surrogate to keep Chad away from the homestead. She’d sensed the ruse, which was why she’d warned Jasmine to get rid of the tattoo. Mary opened her eyes and looked squarely at Sinclair. “Yes. Jasmine Routh. Let me guess. This Chad Foster is mad at Jasmine, thinking she’s me.”

  The rueful look on his face was answer enough.

  Mary’s concern for Trey only deepened. She’d known Kinnard would go to almost any length to complete his land deal, but with Chad Foster out there on his tail, Kinnard would be doubly dangerous if he felt cornered. Mary’s eyes stung with tears, but she managed to stay calm. “Can you call Chad and see if he’s had any luck finding Trey? And maybe set him straight about me and Jasmine? She’s a good friend of mine, but she’s done nothing wrong.”

  “We’ve tried him half the day, but now his phone is going straight to voice mail.” Sinclair looked at his desk, at a document with a Beverly Hills Police Department seal. “I do have another number to try. Would you excuse me for a moment?” He ushered her to the waiting room, and then used his landline to dial Riley’s cell number.

  In Beverly Hills, Chad was downstairs talking to Riley. At Jasmine’s cold dismissal, he’d collected the few things he’d left at her place, including his phone charger, but he hadn’t had time to charge his phone. He made a mental note to call Sinclair on a pay phone. He had to let his boss know Trey was gone, and that he was trying to bring their best witness back with him. “She’s not cooperating.”

  “Funny, she’s very cooperative with me.”

  Chad scowled. “Horseshit, Riley. She’s running away and you’re not doing a damn thing to stop her.”

  “Why should I? She’s done nothing illegal. In fact she’s been a big help to the department.” Riley’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID but stuck the phone back in his pocket with a slight smile as he looked at Chad. “Have you called in to Sinclair lately?”

  “My phone’s dead and Jasmine kicked me out, so I haven’t been able to charge it. I have to get to the hospital to pick up Trey’s body anyway. Then I’m packing Chester up and heading out. I’ll call Sinclair on a pay phone before I go. I want to get to Amarillo to help apprehend the son of a bitch. I’ll be in touch.” Chad turned on his heel, ignoring Riley’s “Wait!”

  As his dually rumbled away, Riley sighed and called Sinclair back. He hated being the bearer of bad news, but the Rangers had to know Trey was dead and Kinnard was in Amarillo by now. Not to mention that their golden boy was acting downright loco, as they’d say in Texas . . .

  In Amarillo, Sinclair frowned as he listened to Riley. The news about Trey was bad enough, but now he learned that one of the best Rangers he’d ever worked with had gone nuts and destroyed a parking officer’s mini vehicle. For Chad to be that angry, he had to be at the end of his rope. Sinclair knew how much he’d loved his brother. “And this Jasmine is the girl he’s been staying with?” He listened. “She paid his bail and even negotiated permission for him to leave the state and he’s still blaming her? Typical balls-to-the-wall MO for him. Can’t blame her for not wanting to come with him under the circumstances. You sure you can’t reach him?”

  He listened, nodding. “Okay, as soon as he gets back to the equestrian center, be sure he calls me and I’ll set him straight about her. We’ll expect him here in the next twenty-four hours or so. Knowing him, he’ll drive straight through.” Sinclair hesitated and then said sincerely, “Thanks, Riley. I’ve never worked with your department before, but I can’t thank you enough for your leniency and cooperation toward a fellow officer. All the good things I’ve heard over the years about the Beverly Hills Police Department are obviously true. I’m sure Foster will be thanking you, too, when he learns the whole truth. Keep me apprised. I’ll start a team to check out all the hotels in Amarillo. We’ll find Kinnard. We may have to flip a coin over who gets to try the bastard. Trey might have been killed there, but he was a Texan through and through, and I know how Chad will feel about this.” Sinclair hung up.

  He leaned his lean hips on his desk, debating what to do now. He went outside his office to the next room and told Co
rey what was going on, putting him in charge of the team that would search for Kinnard. Then he went to the waiting room to see Mary. What he was going to propose was dangerous, but she’d offered to help and this was the best way.

  In Burbank, Chad barely took time to toss his things, willy-nilly, into the back of his truck, though he was more careful with Chester. He had to be because the stallion was sharing his trailer with a long wooden box. His entire packing took about fifteen minutes, and then he was on his way. Because he was in a hurry and it was rush hour, he took a few side streets to avoid a freeway, unaware an unmarked car, lights flashing, pulled into the equestrian center lot five minutes after he departed. Riley jumped out.

  But when Chad wound his way past the blockage and reached the intersection with I-10 that split between east and west, he hesitated. He’d wanted to go east and keep going east since he got here, but somehow the dually stopped all on its own, engine rumbling. It wasn’t that far to Jasmine’s. The primitive urge to take her with him was overwhelming. He tried to picture Kinnard before a Texas jury, but the images of her laughing, making love to him on soft prairie grass, were stronger. She was a Texas girl, and he’d sensed her longing for the land of her birth, no matter what she said.

  No matter the right or wrong of it, no matter how he’d met her, no matter if she’d been Kinnard’s patsy or his accomplice, he wanted her. No, beyond that, he needed her. She made him laugh, she made him cry, but most of all, she colored his gray days with a brilliant palette of possibility. Trey had recognized it immediately and given his blessing.

  If he left her now, they might never see one another again.

  That disembodied hand appeared in his vision again. It turned the truck west, toward Beverly Hills.

  CHAPTER 18

  In Amarillo, Sinclair eyed Mary’s calm face, wondering how to tell her about Trey. He hated this part of the job. Delaying, he said, “So you think Kinnard will go out to the drilling rig?”

  “Yes, and he’ll be angry with me for ending the drilling.”

  “Angry enough to let something slip?”

  “Maybe. He’s always talked to both me and Jasmine about his deals, but why are you asking me this now? I told you, we need to contact the California Highway Patrol and get them to look for Trey!”

  Sinclair sighed and moved in front of her to take her hands and pull her to her feet.

  She started to jerk away, shocked at his unexpected move, but then she went very still as her big blue eyes fixed on his sorrowful expression. “It’s Trey, isn’t it?”

  “I’m so sorry, I just found out. He passed a couple days ago. Chad’s bringing him home.”

  “Oh God, no . . . This is all my fault.” Mary covered her face with her hands, her slim shoulders shaking as she wept.

  Sinclair patted her shoulder, feeling helpless, but he didn’t know her well enough to pull her into his arms. Anyway, nothing he could say or do could possibly make up for the loss. If he’d doubted the depth of her feelings for Trey, he didn’t any longer.

  When her sobs subsided to sniffles, he offered her a Kleenex from the box on his credenza.

  She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. When she looked at him again, her mellow blue eyes were igneous rocks. “I’ll give you any information you want, sign any confession. I want to help catch Thomas. Just tell me what to do.”

  In Beverly Hills, Chad had to park his rig in front of Jasmine’s place, blocking the small lot. He was relieved her car was still there. He pulled the handcuffs from his pocket. He’d gotten them at a security supply store when he’d first arrived, hoping to use them on the men who took Trey, but so far the local police had taken care of the niceties. He certainly didn’t want to have to use them on Jasmine, but she was a stubborn woman. She’d already refused to accompany him, but for both professional and personal reasons, his mind was made up.

  He walked up the steps and saw the boxes he’d moved earlier, still on her stoop. Thinking he’d help her make the right choice, he carried them down to his truck and put them in the truck bed, wondering what he’d say to coax her into the truck with him.

  A short time earlier, inside her place, Jasmine had sat in the chair where they’d made love, wishing she felt some residual warmth. What did she do now? She’d given notice at the club, the gallery had been closed, supposedly for renovations, and her best friend was in Texas already. She’d picked up the latest copy of her transcripts and canceled the few classes she’d begun this semester, intending to transfer her credits when she got back home.

  Home . . . That was a word she hadn’t used in a long time. Maybe because she always associated home with family, and since she and her father were estranged, she hadn’t had one of those in years. Until she’d met Chad. That one day with him at her place had proved Trey’s instincts were right. They were good for one another. Compatible in so many ways that mattered. If only Chad could see Mary, he’d realize how wrong he’d been. He’d forgive Jasmine for whatever misguided actions she’d unknowingly taken that might have helped Thomas in his scam. And she’d forgive him for being so judgmental when she’d actually risked her life to collect evidence against her former benefactor.

  There was nothing keeping her here. She’d packed everything, hoping, no, determined, to go back to Texas with him. She’d been so sure that after the passion they’d shared, all the evidence he knew she’d collected on Thomas, even paying his bail, Chad would finally soften toward her. He’d realize she deserved at least a fair hearing while they worked on establishing some kind of relationship.

  Instead, by his own admission, Chad intended to stick her in a hotel and keep things strictly business. That passionate coupling that had been so meaningful to her had meant no more to him than a lap dance with a happy ending. She’d always be damaged goods to him, even when he realized the truth about Mary. Tears flooded her eyes again, but she angrily wiped them away. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need anyone. At the age of sixteen, she’d run away from all she knew to a future she was determined to forge herself. And so she had, and so she would, again.

  At least the roller coaster ride with Chad had made her see the mistakes she was making in her life.

  She’d been increasingly dissatisfied with LA’s shallow, frantic lifestyle for a long time. After the way Trey had been brutalized, she truly did want to help catch Thomas, and Chad was right about one thing: She could best do that from Texas. Riley knew how to reach her and had promised to keep her posted on the investigations from both jurisdictions.

  Which left only one destination, the same choice she’d made years ago, but in reverse. Jasmine stood, wrapping the long strap of her satchel over her shoulder, and reached for her cell phone to call the airline. She debated calling her father first, but instinctively she knew it would be best to surprise him. She had to see the look on his face when he saw her again, with no time for artifice. Only then would she know if he still loved her.

  When the reservation agent came on, she asked, “Can you tell me when your next direct flight to Houston is scheduled?”

  After she booked her flight, she went into her room and moved the rest of her luggage into the tiny entry. She’d have to come back for her car, or hire someone to drive it to her because she had to get out of here in case Thomas sent someone else after her. She didn’t want to make that long, lonely drive by herself.

  When she heard steps outside on the front stairs, she froze. The bat. Where was the bat? She’d turned toward her bedroom when a firm knock came, along with a voice she recognized. “It’s Chad, Jasmine. Can we talk? I don’t have much time. Chester gets restless if I stop too long.”

  Just hearing his voice took some of the starch out of her spine. She debated not answering, as it would be even harder to tell him good-bye again, but reluctantly she opened the door, keeping the chain on as she worked to stay expressionless. “What do you want?”

  In that endearing way she’d noticed when they first met, he took his hat off and twisted it in his h
ands, as he did when he was searching for exactly the right thing to say.

  “Where are you going, Jasmine?”

  “None of your business. Why have you come back?”

  “I left something. Can I come in?”

  Refusing to unhook the chain, Jasmine looked around at the boxes and empty shelves, stepping back from the door to skeptically peer over her shoulder. “What did you leave?”

  The splintering of the door frame as he kicked the door open, unseating the chain, brought her surging forward, but she wasn’t quick enough. By the time she tried to press her weight on the door to hold it closed, his strong hands pushed it open, forcing her to stumble backward. At that point she had two choices, the same choices he’d given her almost from the beginning: fight or flight.

  She darted behind the couch. “You have no right to do that, especially after I put you up. I would’ve gotten all my deposit back and now—”

  “I’ll reimburse you. I don’t like leaving things behind.”

  “You’re lying, you didn’t leave anything!”

  “Yes, I did.” He circled the couch. “You.”

  They played the circle-the-couch dodge game, their tempers soaring with each blocked move. “I’m not going with you!” Jasmine finally screeched, so angry she scratched his reaching hand. “All I am to you is a witness for the prosecution, even after I risked my life to help you find Trey, even after I paid your bail, even after—” She broke off, but when she looked at the leisure chair and back at him, his eyes darkened.