Dirty Money

by Denise Grover Swank

  I got out of the car and a shiver ran down my back, partially from nerves and partially from the chill in the fall air, which kept even the insects silent. It didn’t help that the quarter moon slightly above the horizon provided a limited amount of light on the completely dark property. I walked to the trunk, terrified to see what she was doing.

  She didn’t disappoint. She was loading a handgun that hadn’t been in her bag when I’d searched it. “Don’t worry,” she said when I approached. “I don’t plan to shoot you.”

  “But you do plan to shoot Ronnie.”

  “No,” she said, turning her head to glance at me. “I meant what I said. It’s up to you if you want him dead.” Then she offered me the gun.

  I took a step back, refusing to take it. “I don’t want to play games anymore, Kate.”

  I agree,” she said. “It’s time to end this one, which is why you need to take this gun and end it.”

  Stepping back, I shook my head. “No way. I’m not going to shoot him, and you’re not going to either.”

  The grin on her face wobbled. “Wait until you talk to him before you make that decision.”

  I swallowed, fixated on the gun in her outstretched hand.

  Kate released an exaggerated sigh, then stuffed the gun into the back waistband of her jeans. She grabbed a bolt cutter out of one of the bags, then walked toward the front of the garage, leaving the trunk open.

  I stood by the trunk, second-guessing my decision. I should have taken it, then demanded the keys and driven off to meet Jed. That would have been the sensible thing to do, so why hadn’t I done it?

  Because there was no way I was leaving if Ronnie was on his way.

  I told myself I was staying to protect him from Kate as much as I was staying to get answers, so why hadn’t I taken the gun from her? I wasn’t about to shoot Ronnie, no matter how furious I was with him. Besides, I wasn’t angry with him anymore. No, scratch that, I was angry he’d played me and stolen from me, but I wasn’t angry that he’d left. Even before I’d found out he was already married, I’d come to realize that I’d railroaded him into marrying me. Maybe I didn’t know the real Ronnie, but I didn’t believe he’d physically harm me. I suspected part of the reason he’d run off was because they’d expected him to.

  “Neely Kate,” my sister called out, her voice lilting playfully. “If you want your answers about the money, you better get in here before our guests arrive.”

  Guests? Plural? Was Ronnie bringing his wife?

  I expected some sort of jealousy to appear, but all I felt was anxiety. I really needed to finish this chapter of my life, but I was terrified about what Kate had planned. After the last two spectacles she’d orchestrated, both of which had ended in bloodbaths, I doubted this would go well. Had my need for answers overrode my common sense? Obviously, I’d answered that question the moment I’d agreed to come with her. Although I’d told myself I might be able to sway or control her, that had been little more than wishful thinking.

  Why hadn’t I taken that gun?

  “And bring the money,” she said. “We’re gonna need it.”

  That worried me, but I looped the bag’s strap around my shoulder. Making a snap decision, I quickly unzipped Kate’s bag, grabbed my phone, and stuffed it into my pocket. Seconds later, the bag was zipped and the trunk was shut, and I marched over to Kate as she cut the chain securing one of the garage doors.

  I put a hand on my hip and said with plenty of sass, “What’s so special about this place that you feel the need to drive here in the middle of the night and break in?”

  She pulled the heavy metal chain free and tossed it aside, the thump and clink louder than it should be in the silence of the night.

  Kate paused, his gaze holding mine, her previous seriousness returning. “This is part of your story, Neely Kate. The reason Carson wants his money so badly. You wanted to know, so I’m showing you. Isn’t ‘show’ so much more fun than ‘tell’?” Then she put her weight into lifting the metal garage door and shoving it up enough to walk into the darkness.

  Like a fool, I followed.

  I only walked a few feet in before pausing to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. I could barely make Kate out toward the back of the large space, big enough to house multiple large pieces of farm equipment or six or seven cars.

  A flashlight clicked on, revealing a work table in the back. There was an old-fashioned lantern on it, and Kate set the flashlight down, flicked on a lighter she retrieved from her pocket, and lit the lantern. When the wick caught fire, she turned off the flashlight.

  Everything she did spoke of a familiarity with the place.

  “You’re tellin’ me the secret to the money is in this garage?” I asked as I took a few steps toward her.

  She grinned. “Perhaps.”

  “For heaven’s sake, will you just quit it with the games?” I snapped.

  “Don’t sound so snippy, little sis. I don’t have to tell you any of this, you know. I could leave you hanging in the dark.”

  She was right. I’d do best to play along, but I was daggum tired of the games. “You got me into this mess, Kate. You were the one who sent Hardshaw to Fenton County out of your need for revenge. You’d already given them my scent when you sent Ronnie to woo me, and you made it worse when you started pokin’ around in Ardmore. You owe me answers.”

  She took several steps toward me. “I don’t owe you anything. I’m doing you a favor with this little field trip.”

  “Is that how you really see this?” I asked, taking several more steps toward her. “Because I thought part of this was about growing closer. Becoming sisters.”

  “You got yourself into this mess the moment you buried Pearce Manchester’s body instead of going to the police. This is firmly on you.”

  A small part of my soul agreed, but the rest of me raged. “Do you really think the police would have let me off? A stripper and prostitute versus Pearce Manchester’s father with his limitless funds to help the prosecution? I’d be rotting in jail for the rest of my life!”

  “Then you shouldn’t have killed him in the first place. You should have just run.”

  “It was me or him,” I said in disgust. “He would have killed me if I hadn’t killed him.” And for the first time, I believed it.

  She moved closer with an evil glint in her eyes. “That’s right, Neely Kate. You or him. Who deserved to live and who deserved to die? He thought it was him, but you decided otherwise.” She stopped and cocked her head. “Survival of the fittest, NK. You’re a Simmons. Embrace it.”

  The coldness in her eyes scared me. “What does that mean?”

  Her posture loosened as though I’d flipped a switch with my question. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  “I’m not killin’ Ronnie.”

  She chuckled. “No one asked you to.”

  Yet. I knew she wanted me to kill someone. This had all been one big windup to another bloody finale.

  Spinning on the balls of her feet, she then headed back to the workbench. “Do you want to know about the money or not? We don’t have much time.”

  I sucked in a deep breath. “What’s so special about the money?”

  She walked around the table before turning to face me. “Six years ago, Carson formed an association with Derrick Smith.”

  “Okay,” I said, moving closer.

  “Carson needed a great deal of cash for a South American drug deal, and his funds were short. He’d met Derrick Smith and knew he had talent.”

  “What kind of talent?”

  “Producing counterfeit bills. Derrick told Carson he could produce a large amount of money with multiple serial numbers, but he needed funds to set up the production. So Carson funded him, but not through Hardshaw. He went through Roberts Venture Capital. He called it a startup.”

  “Why would he do something so stupid?” I asked.

  “Arrogance,” Kate said, looking pleased that I was taking her bait. “And Derrick had a legit bus
iness as an artist. The money Carson gave him was to start his own gallery, with plenty of money for additional expenses, which actually went to Derrick’s more profitable business.”

  “Making counterfeit money,” I said.

  She moved to the open space at the center of the garage, carrying the lantern with her. “As you can probably guess, Derrick rented this farm through his own business, with the full knowledge and approval of Carson, although you’d never find a paper trail confirming it. Carson may have been arrogant, but he wasn’t completely stupid. Derrick used his slush fund to get the equipment he needed to make the counterfeit twenty-dollar bills. But unfortunately for Derrick and Carson, somebody talked and the Secret Service and the FBI caught wind of what Derrick was up to. One early summer night six years ago, they busted this very building and found a bunch of worker bees printing money. Derrick was arrested the next day, and while the authorities were sure there was a tie to Carson—given the timing of Carson’s investment and all—they couldn’t find proof. Carson denied any knowledge of the counterfeit operation. He claimed to be just as duped as everyone else and was out several hundred thousand he’d never recover since Derrick was going to prison. The agencies couldn’t touch Carson because everything was circumstantial. Derrick knew better than to talk.”

  “Lucky Carson,” I mumbled.

  Kate laughed. “Only there was evidence and it was in Carson’s house. Derrick had given Carson the first batch of counterfeit money. He’d used the majority of it in a drug deal, and, much to his delight, the drug lord never figured it out. But he’d kept some of it in a black bag in his home office. And there it sat until Pearce Manchester dropped by for a chat. Pearce resented the fact that Carson had his own spot in Hardshaw. It didn’t help that Carson loved to rub it in his face. In any case, the two had an argument and Carson told Pearce to leave. His big mistake was not walking to Pearce to the door, because days later, he realized he was missing something—a bag of money.” Her eyes sparkled. “Guess where the bag is right now?”

  I shot a glance down at the bag at my side then back up at her.

  “Carson was pissed, especially when Pearce disappeared soon afterward. Then Derrick was arrested, and Carson freaked. His fingerprints were all over those bills, and it was the evidence the Secret Service needed to connect him to his scheme. But Pearce never resurfaced, and neither did the money, so Carson decided he was in the clear.”

  “Until you started pokin’ into my past life like you were poking a beehive with a stick,” I said. “You got everyone riled up and buzzin’.”

  She made a face. “True. It was an unfortunate, unforeseen consequence.”

  “You wouldn’t have cared back then anyway,” I said. “You were out to kill me too.”

  Kate pushed out a frustrated sigh. “Can we not let bygones be bygones, NK? Must we keep bringing up the past?”

  My mouth dropped open as I stared at her in disbelief. “Are you kiddin’ me? The whole reason we’re in this mess is because you couldn’t let the past go!”

  Her jaw shifted to the side as she looked down, clearly agitated. For a moment, I worried I might have pissed her off enough to retaliate, but when she looked up again, I saw none of the anger I’d expected. “You’re right,” she said, her hands extended to her sides. The lantern swung on her fingers, causing the shadows to sway on the walls. “But I’m trying to make things right, Neely Kate, I swear it. That’s what I’m doing tonight.”

  “By bringin’ Ronnie here?”

  “I can’t tell you the plan,” she said, “not yet, but I swear to you that you’ll be free of Hardshaw when it’s done.”

  The earnest look on her face convinced me she meant every word of it. I also believed she’d go about unconventional means to make it happen.

  “There’s only one problem,” I said. “Jed said it wasn’t counterfeit. The bills all had different serial numbers.”

  She laughed. “Half of it is real. The other half is counterfeit. Each stack has a real bill on top, but if Mr. Sexy had looked closer, he would have seen that half the bills have cloned serial numbers. About twenty different ones. That’s how they snuck it past the drug lords. Quite brilliant.”

  She was right.

  The dull roar of an engine filled the silence. I’d never seen Kate look happier—which made me anxious and then some.

  She grabbed my arm and started to drag me toward the work table.

  “Showtime.”

  Chapter 23

  I jerked out of her reach. “Let go of me, Kate.”

  She turned back and shot me a glare. “Don’t ruin this, Neely Kate. This won’t work if you end up dead.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear you have my safety in mind,” I snapped, wondering what I should do. Who’d shown up? Was it Jed?

  It was more likely Ronnie. That thought sent a flurry of butterflies loose in my stomach, although not because I was eager to see him. I was worried about what my sister was planning.

  She pointed to the workbench and narrowed her eyes. “Go wait there.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh for God’s sake, Neely Kate,” she groaned, leaning her head back dramatically. Then, just as quickly, she straightened and leveled her gaze on me. “I’m going to make sure we don’t have an unexpected visitor who could do you harm,” she said through gritted teeth. “Now be a good little sister and do what I say.”

  Running out front would be a downright stupid thing to do, so I tilted my head and said, “Sure. Fine.”

  “Then go,” she said, suddenly looking nervous as she jogged toward the front of the building, staying out of the view of the open door, which was outlined with light from the headlights of the approaching vehicle. She blew out the lantern.

  I hurried back to the work table and examined the top for anything I could use to protect myself. It was empty but for some loose screws and bolts and the flashlight Kate had used. Desperate, I circled around the desk to check the shelf behind it. It was too dark to see anything, so I flicked on the flashlight and searched the shelf, stopping short when I saw what Kate had no doubt sent me over to find.

  The handgun she’d tried to give me minutes ago. This time I took it, placing the flashlight on the table to pop out the clip (fully loaded) and make sure the safety was on. I stuffed it into the waistband of my jeans at the small of my back and put the flashlight in the other back pocket.

  The car engine stopped, and I heard the squeak of a car door. “Neely Kate?”

  Ronnie.

  Heart in my throat, I scanned the front of the garage for Kate, but she was gone.

  “Neely Kate!” Ronnie called out again, more insistent.

  What did she expect me to do? I decided it didn’t matter. I was going to him anyway.

  “Ronnie, wait out there,” I called out to him as I shifted the bag of money at my hip and headed toward the entrance. “I’m coming out to you.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “Are your kidnappers here?”

  Had Kate told him I’d been kidnapped? Did he think he was here to save me? I stopped at the edge of the open garage door, suddenly realizing this might be a trap. “Who’s with you?”

  “No one. They told me to come alone and you’d give me the ten thousand dollars Hardshaw wants.”

  Foolish or not, I walked into the opening, seeing the man I’d thought was my husband face to face for the first time in nine months.

  “Neely Kate.” He said my name as though it were an answer to a prayer and rushed toward me as though he was about to pull me into an embrace.

  I held up my hand. “You wait right there,” I snapped. “Don’t you touch me.”

  He came to an abrupt halt, pain and embarrassment washing over his face. “I suppose I deserve that.”

  “You suppose?” I shouted. “You married me while you were married to someone else! Then you took off without a word to anyone.” Tears filled my eyes, much to my chagrin. “I thought you were dead, Ronnie!”

  “I know,”
he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry!” I shouted. This wasn’t the time or place, especially since I had no clue what Kate would do next, but this had been building for months and there was no stopping it now. “You’re sorry? Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover what you put me through!”

  “I know, Neely Kate. Now can we just go?”

  I took a step back. “Go? Go where?”

  “I don’t know!” he said in frustration. “Away from here before your kidnappers come back.”

  “I wasn’t kidnapped, Ronnie. My sister set this up.” I glanced around, wondering where she’d gone. Her car was still there, parked next to Ronnie’s.

  “Sister? You don’t have a sister.”

  I gave him a dark look. “A lot of things have changed since we last talked. I have a sister and she knows everything.” I took a step closer, lowering my voice. “Who called you? A woman or a man? What did they say?”

  “A man. He said you’d been kidnapped but you had the money.”

  A man? Was Kate working with someone again like when she’d escaped from the psych ward? Or had she double-crossed me after all?

  “He said all I had to do was come get you and the cash, turn the money in to Hardshaw, and we’d both be free.”

  “Are you really stupid enough to believe that?” I spat. “Seriously?”

  “They just want the money, Neely Kate,” he pleaded. “I take the money to them and this is all over. No more running.”

  “I haven’t been running,” I shouted. “I’ve been back in Fenton County searching for your sorry ass so I could serve you with divorce papers. Only it turns out I didn’t need to worry about that.” I smacked his chest. “Speaking of money and messes, you owe me eighteen thousand dollars, Ronnie Colson.” I shook my head. “Scratch that. You owe me an additional fifteen hundred for the lawyer’s fees for the divorce paperwork we don’t need, so make it an even twenty grand. The extra five hundred can be for my pain and suffering.”