by DiAnn Mills
“Thanks,” she whispered. “Daniel, I need time to think about us. Too much too soon.”
Her words sparked reality. “I understand. Forcing a relationship will push you away and distract us from what we need to do.”
“One of us could make a mistake while worrying about the other. I couldn’t survive losing another partner.”
He smiled. “You’re one smart woman. Ready to head back? Being alone with you is tempting. All this nature stuff is driving me nuts.”
At the stables, Laurel frowned at Phantom. “He’s missed me. I can tell by the way he keeps nudging me. I’m going to brush him down the best I can.” She pointed to the end of the stables, where Daniel had seen a vending machine earlier. “If you’ll get us a couple bottles of water, I’ll get started. May take a while with one hand.”
“Ah, the horse over me. I know where I rank.” He left her alone to search for cold water. A driver unloaded feed from a pickup, and the young stable hand stacked it in a corner. Daniel listened to the conversation.
“You’re new to the delivery service,” said the hand, who couldn’t be much more than eighteen. “Early too. Wasn’t expecting the feed until Tuesday.”
“Just following orders.”
“Don’t I know it.” The hand spit a wad of tobacco juice, then examined one of the bags. “The feed’s a different brand.”
Daniel’s ears perked. The conversation continued about the weather. When the driver said his good-byes, Daniel typed in the license plate number on his phone. He approached the young hand.
“Yes, sir,” the hand said. “How can I help you?”
He stuck out his hand. “C. W. Krestle. I have a few questions concerning the delivery you just received.”
“Why?”
“I’m part of an investigative team who’s looking for an operation that poisons horses.”
The hand’s eyes widened. “The boss isn’t here, and I don’t want to get into trouble.”
“I agree. Taking chances can mean a mistake.”
He grinned, reminding Daniel of a fence post–thin cowboy from the Old West. “Craziest thing,” the young man said. “I don’t have feed on this week’s order, and it’s a brand we don’t use. Not even delivered on the right day.” He bent to read the label. “Not a good blend for our horses either.”
“I’d like to have this tested before you use it. Why take the chance?”
The young hand paled. “Really.”
“Can I take a bag with me? Don’t let anyone use these others. In fact, do you have your boss’s number? I’ll call him.”
He produced a card. “What kind of lowlife poisons horses?”
Daniel lifted a brow. “Read the news. They’re all over the place. Sometimes they add people to their list of victims.”
“What if the delivery guy returns?”
“Be friendly and call 911.”
Daniel phoned in the license plate number and hoisted a bag of feed to his shoulder, gritting his teeth with the pain in his wrist. Between the man inquiring about purchasing Phantom and the possibility of tainted feed, Laurel would be ready to take her horse home.
“You were gone a long time,” she said, brushing Phantom’s mane. “Thanks for the water. What are you doing with that sack of feed?”
He explained what happened. “Once Phantom is in a temporary hiding place, I’ll get the feed tested.”
“License plate number?”
“Already called it in.”
She leaned against the stallion. “I understand the old psychology thing about getting to me via those things that matter.” She frowned. “I’m ready to unload my Glock on whoever’s responsible.”
Daniel hated not knowing the scammer’s plan. “We just need to find out who is responsible.”
CHAPTER 46
10:15 P.M. THURSDAY
Laurel and Wilmington walked into a small Greek restaurant on the southwest side of Houston. Wilmington escorted her to a single man at a booth. No other persons were around.
The man, about Wilmington’s age with a muscular build, stood. “Good to see you, Mort.” He smiled at Laurel, but in the dim lighting she couldn’t see his eyes. “I’m Geoff Cayden.” He took her hand. “It’s a pleasure, Laurel, and congratulations on your engagement.”
“Thank you.” She’d remembered the ring. Felt as heavy as the burden to end the scam.
“How’s the shoulder?”
How very nice. “Better. Keeps me sharp.”
With the pleasantries ended, they took their places in the booth and ordered drinks and food.
“Only a Coke Zero?” Cayden said. “You don’t have to hold back. Share a bottle of wine with me.”
Wilmington waved his hand. “Keeps my head clear. Laurel and I prefer to keep the alcohol behind closed doors.”
For the next several minutes until their food arrived, Cayden and Wilmington talked about old days in the military. Stunts they’d pulled and how good it felt to be together again. Cayden’s wife and daughter, who were clueless to his operation, never learned any of it.
“Where’s Josie? I thought she’d be ready to come out of the closet,” Wilmington said.
“She couldn’t be with us,” Cayden said. “Had other things going on.”
“Why’s that?” Wilmington said. “Is she still opposed to us joining the operation?”
“Not anymore.” Cayden lifted a glass of Bordeaux to his lips.
Was Fields even alive? “I want to meet her,” Laurel said. “To prove I’m on your side.” No need to claim revenge. She’d already shown it.
Cayden laughed. “I’ll pass on your comments. For your information, the fund-raiser will be my last gig of the year. Oh, the FBI questioned me with all the Almet people. Got nowhere. My wife was interviewed too. Got someone following her. Did they think I was stupid?” He laughed again.
Wilmington snorted. “They tail me everywhere I go. What’s our cut?”
“Ten percent.”
Wilmington seemed to ponder the situation. “Was that your decision or the silent partner’s?”
“Always me.”
Wilmington took a long drink of his Coke Zero. Laurel sensed he didn’t believe Cayden.
“What do you want from us?” Wilmington said.
Cayden set his glass on the table. “The fund-raiser is the key here. We have live entertainment, a well-known Christian singer who will perform during the meal. You’ll give your testimony and talk about how an elderly volunteer at the prison helped turn your life around. Then I’ll speak—the favorite grandparent story—and encourage donations. Every guest will have an envelope with a form for them to donate with their credit card. Typical stuff. Except the security cameras will have a glitch. The donations will be gathered by servers, and Laurel will collect them in a basket. During a video with the lights down, Laurel will switch the basket and give the original one to a man who’ll be stationed outside the door. When the lights come up, you and Laurel will still be with the basket. The singer will perform two more songs, giving my man time to get away. I’ll close by asking you to pray before leaving. All three of us will be in plain sight.”
“Later on, you cash in on the credit cards. Wait until the money clears, then send it offshore before we’re paid?”
Cayden chuckled. “Something along those lines. I’ll work on getting the money due me through several life insurance policies transferred to my silent partner. And then we’ll all be paid.”
“You said you were in charge,” Wilmington said. “Why is it I’ve risked Laurel’s and my future and dealt just with you when someone else is calling the shots?”
“I have it handled.”
For a former Delta Force soldier, Cayden didn’t lie well. Laurel touched Wilmington’s arm. “I like the plan,” she said. “Old friends are the ones to be trusted. Geoff is the victim. Someone hacked into the nonprofit’s account and took off with thousands of dollars.”
“We lay low,” Cayden said. “Keep up appea
rances until the funds are available.”
“Seems simple for 10 percent.” Wilmington pushed back his grilled lamb. “Who stole my four mil?”
“Bro, I have no clue. I have feelers out there if it makes you feel any better.”
“Appreciate it. What else is on the list for Laurel and me?”
“You two will take a trip to Paris and then a train to Switzerland using stored-value cards. A lovers’ getaway. Then both of you will travel to Cairo, where I’ll give you the name of a hawala there and the code. This will be one big explosion.” Cayden’s razor smile rested on Wilmington. “You’ve wanted a way to repay me.”
Finally she’d learned how the money would be laundered. Neither the stored-value cards nor using a hawala were illegal. But absconding with credit card information would get Cayden solid time.
Now they needed rock-hard evidence before the night of the fund-raiser to make an arrest. She hoped SSA Preston was awake when she called him, because now they had the method.
CHAPTER 47
7:00 A.M. FRIDAY
SIX DAYS UNTIL OCTOBER 15
Daniel sat at his computer in Wilmington’s kitchen. Weird . . . this was where the man had been arrested and Laurel’s partner killed. Wilmington said the condo had been through a complete renovation. The blood had to have been splattered everywhere.
Last night Wilmington had relayed the meeting with Cayden and how October 15 was supposed to play out. Since Daniel didn’t trust either of the men, he cemented the meeting with Laurel. Very easy to blame the crime on Wilmington and Laurel or just Laurel since she’d be passing the credit card envelopes to the driver. But that didn’t put money in the operation’s pocket, just framed someone else. Wilmington’s revenge against Laurel bannered across his mind. Sure . . . a way to get even with her for sending him to prison. Then he changes his tune, acts like a great guy, offers to help the FBI, and asks for Laurel’s support.
How did he plan to incriminate Daniel? Bore a hole into the public’s view of the FBI? Good question. Maybe he’d figure it out later.
He scrolled through his burner phone for texts. SSA Preston reported that Marsha Leonard and Chef Steven remained mute. Probably afraid for their jobs. Gran indicated they both had evidence. Maybe he should talk to them. Daniel texted Preston and copied Laurel about a visit this afternoon to Silver Hospitality.
Daniel’s mind swept from the fund-raiser on October 15 to his grandparents’ safety to his growing feelings for Laurel. He understood the performance issues to prove her worth and still feeling undeserving. Add to that a heavy dose of control. What would it take for her to reach out to God?
Daniel refused to give up.
He poured another cup of coffee, adding an extra spoonful of sugar. Tylenol sat beside his computer, and he downed three. The clock alerted him to thirty minutes before calling to check on his grandparents. He grimaced with his own issues of concern for them, which he masked with an appropriate trait of responsibility. Who didn’t have issues?
Wilmington walked into the kitchen, dressed for a run.
“Do you need a bodyguard?” Daniel said.
Wilmington grinned. “With the mood I’m in, my run will be up and down the stairs. I smell coffee.”
“Second pot of the morning. Haven’t checked my latest list of duties. Do bodyguards pour coffee?”
He chuckled. “Not unless I think a bomb’s in it. The good Lord might take me home before I’m ready.”
Daniel hesitated. “How much of this conversion business is bunk?”
“None. I’m simply new at it and rough around the edges.”
Rough—or still in the other zone?
“How’s the wrist?” Wilmington said.
“Hurts enough to make me mad.”
“Revenge can be a good thing.”
Daniel would remember that statement. “I have the latest on the horse feed.”
“Poison?”
“Poisonous mushrooms again. The driver who delivered feed to the stables has a clean record. Stated he was paid to make the delivery. Everything on him checks out. Cayden or one of his men?”
“I’m sure Cayden ordered it.”
“So what are your thoughts about last night?”
“A few things don’t add up, but I’m working on it.” Wilmington poured half a pot of coffee into a huge mug with a cross that said, Jesus Loves the Ex-Con.
“Where did you get the mug?”
Wilmington grinned. “Custom-made. A constant reminder of where I came from.” He took a long drink of the coffee. “Nothing like the first drink in the morning. I was up all night thinking through this, and I’m beat.” He took another gulp. “Among other things, I’m a coffee snob. Prison coffee was the worst, and now I’m making up for lost time.”
“Right there with you. Have you figured out if Cayden told you the truth last night?”
“Sorry. Tired and distracted. He might be the Leopard, but his spots are true when it comes to me. Living through life and death bonds men.” He set the mug on the counter. “Daniel, what if I’m wrong?”
This wasn’t the time to debate honor among thieves. “Why would a man spend eight years finalizing an elaborate scam to give away 10 percent of a huge chunk of money?”
“That 10 percent is only from the fund-raising part.”
“Okay. Where’s Josie Fields?”
Wilmington eased onto a stool. “My guess is she’s dead. Outlived her usefulness. She tugged at her leash too many times. Ran free rein with her own vendetta. Think about it. With her out of the picture, part of her cut goes to us minus the silent partner. Cayden’s still making money.”
“If by some chance she’s alive, would she testify against him?”
“With all the charges against her? She’d plea-bargain her mother.”
“Another reason why she’s probably dead.” Daniel reached for a Snickers he’d placed in the freezer.
Wilmington walked to the kitchen window overlooking the golf course. “I’m surprised Cayden allowed her to pull in her brother. He must have done a decent job posing as the life insurance salesman. They worked as a team. But anyone can be replaced.”
“Did Fields shoot Laurel?”
Wilmington whirled around. “Sure did. Told Laurel last night on the way back to her apartment. Fields’s miscalculation made the boss very unhappy. She had a vision problem and refused to wear glasses or contacts.”
He was referring to Fields in the past tense. “Did he give you the name of the silent partner?”
“Not yet.”
“Any ideas?”
“No. But I’ll find out.” Wilmington grabbed a banana and peeled it. “The doc tells me I need more potassium. Doesn’t seem all that important right now, given all of us are flirting with death.” He studied Daniel. “Laurel comes out of this alive. Understand?”
“I feel the same.” Jealousy coiled up his spine, but he yanked it back.
“She’ll get herself killed protecting you if it comes down to it.”
Daniel had attempted to put ice on his feelings until the case was solved. But he’d failed. What he liked about her was her dogged determination for justice. It also scared him. The relationship had started out of concern for his grandparents, and that commitment had to be maintained. “Ever teamed up with a cop before?”
“Not legally. But you and I work good together, Daniel. For as long as it lasts.”
“More like an unlikely alliance.”
“I’m programmed for teetering on the edge of a cliff. It’s a high that keeps me going. That and Jesus.”
Where did Wilmington fit into all of this? For him and Cayden to outsmart the FBI and end up very rich men? Strange circumstances. Laurel called him last night after being dropped off at her apartment and hadn’t said a word about Fields being the one who shot her.
He hoped this wild alliance didn’t send him to the morgue or put him in a cell next to Wilmington. At least he’d never be bored.
1:00 P.M. FRIDA
Y
“We’ve made it through thirty minutes of lunch without an argument.” Wilmington smiled, one that charmed the ladies. But not her.
Laurel had recognized a reporter from the Chronicle earlier. Their pic would hit the next issue.
All she could think about was Daniel. She longed to be with him, as though she were betraying him by seeing Wilmington. How insane was that? The gal who refused a relationship. She swung into agent mode. “Thoughts about last night?”
“Dessert? I remember you favored key lime pie. We could split it?”
Sharing dessert hit the intimate level. “No, thanks. All these meetings with food will make me too fat for my wedding dress.”
He lifted a brow, and she saw it again. How could the man have feelings for her when she’d sent him to prison? And did he possibly think in all his wild dreams that she’d ever want to be with him?
Today he’d been his charming self. They’d discussed Phantom, her wounded arm, her past position as a cryptologist, and some of the things he’d learned in prison.
“Since I can’t tempt you with dessert, how about coffee?”
“That works.”
He summoned the server and ordered for them. “Aren’t you curious about my conversion?”
“A little.” She didn’t believe it, choosing instead to think he’d acquired new manipulation skills. “How did a man like you make the decision to humble yourself? Turn your life over to a deity? I remember a few discussions that ruled out any mention of God.” Her thoughts swirled through the night he got drunk and informed his bodyguards who was in control of the universe.
He seemed to contemplate his words. “I’ll tell you, but I imagine you’ll doubt everything I say. I would, in your shoes.”
“Fair enough.”
He took a deep breath. “A fight went down in the yard. Saw a man die in front of me. Gang related.” He paused as though reflecting on his words. “I realized I could be the next one bleeding out. I walked away from the killing with a resolve to find a better way to live. My choices in life had brought me to a cell, facing consequences from the law and revenge from those I’d hurt. I studied Islam, Middle-Eastern religions, scientology, and anything else that seemed to have the answers to this dung-infestation we call life. Last of all, I picked up the Bible. Read it cover to cover. Became obsessed with every word. Found myself drawn to God’s promises. Took nine months for me to give up my stubborn pride.” Their coffee arrived. “Like giving birth.”