telephone, and doorknobs were subjected to the same process. The telephone, especially, evidenced very clear fingerprints. Jackson smiled. Riggs’s real identity would not be a mystery much longer. Using pressure-wound tape, he then lifted the prints from each of the areas and transferred them to separate index cards. Humming quietly to himself, Jackson marked the cards with special identification hieroglyphics and placed them in separate plastic-lined containers. He then carefully removed all evidence of the fingerprint powder from each of the surfaces. He loved the methodology of it all. Precise steps that reached a precise conclusion. It took him only a few minutes to repack his kit and then he left the cottage. He took a side trail to his waiting car and drove off. It was not often that one captured two birds with one stone. Tonight’s work was beginning to look like precisely that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“I like Mr. Riggs, Mom.”
“Well, you don’t really know him, do you?”
LuAnn sat on the edge of her daughter’s bed and fingered the bed covers absentmindedly.
“I have good instincts about these things.”
Mother and daughter exchanged smiles. “Really? Well, maybe you can share some of your insights with me.”
“Seriously, is he going to come back soon?”
LuAnn took a deep breath. “Lisa, we may have to go away soon.”
Lisa’s hopeful smile faded away at this abrupt change of subjects. “Go away? Where?”
“I’m not sure just yet. And it’s not for certain. Uncle Charlie and I haven’t finished talking about it yet.”
“Were you going to include me in those discussions?”
The unfamiliar tone in her daughter’s voice startled LuAnn. “What are you talking about?”
“How many times have we moved in the last six years? Eight? And that’s just as far back as I can remember. God knows how many times we did when I was really little. It’s not fair.” Lisa’s face colored and her voice shook.
LuAnn swept an arm around her shoulders. “Sweetie, I didn’t say it was for certain. I just said maybe.”
“That’s not the point. Okay, so it’s maybe now. Or maybe next month. But then one day it’ll be ‘we’re moving’ and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
LuAnn put her face in Lisa’s long hair. “I know it’s hard on you, baby.”
“I’m not a baby, Mom, not anymore. And I’d really like to know what we’re running from.”
LuAnn stiffened and raised her head back up, her eyes searching out Lisa’s.
“We’re not running from anything. What would we possibly be running from?”
“I was hoping you would tell me. I like it here, I don’t want to leave, and unless you can give me a really good explanation why we have to, I’m not going.”
“Lisa, you’re ten years old and even though you’re a very intelligent and mature ten-year-old, you’re still only a child. So where I go, you go.”
Lisa turned her face away. “Do I have a big trust fund?”
“Yes, why?”
“Because when I turn eighteen I’m going to have my own home and I’m going to stay there until I die. And I don’t want you to ever visit me.”
LuAnn’s cheeks reddened. “Lisa!”
“I mean it. And then maybe I’ll have friends and can do the things I want to do.”
“Lisa Marie Savage, you’ve been all over the world. You’ve done things most people will never get a chance to do their entire lives.”
“Well, you know what?”
“What?” LuAnn shot back.
“Right now, I’d trade with them in a heartbeat.”
Lisa lay down in the bed and put the covers up almost over her head. “And right now, I’d like to be alone.”
LuAnn started to say something and then thought better of it. Biting her lip hard, she raced down the hallway to her room, where she collapsed on the bed.
It was unraveling. She could feel it, like a big ball of twine someone had tossed down a long set of stairs. She rose, went into the bathroom, and started the shower. She pulled off her clothes and stepped under the steaming water. Leaning up against the wall she closed her eyes and tried to tell herself that it would be okay, that in the morning Lisa would be all right, that her love for her mother remained undiminished. This was not the first serious argument mother and daughter had had over the years. Lisa did not just share her mother’s physical attributes; LuAnn’s independence and stubborn streak had been replicated in her daughter. After a few minutes LuAnn finally calmed down and let the soothing water envelop her.
When she opened her eyes another image invaded her thoughts. Matthew Riggs must believe her to be insane by now. Insane and dishonest as hell. Quite a combination if you were trying to make an impression. But she wasn’t. If anything, she felt sorry for him, for having risked his life twice and gotten kicked in the gut both times for his trouble. He was a very attractive man, but she wasn’t looking for a relationship. How could she? How could she even contemplate partnering with someone? She’d be afraid to speak for fear of letting a secret scurry free. With all that, the image of Matt Riggs remained fixed in her head. A very handsome man. Strong, honest, courageous. And there was secrecy in his background too. And hurt. She suddenly cursed out loud that her life wasn’t normal. That she couldn’t attempt even a friendship with him.
She moved her hands fiercely along her limbs as she soaped up and released her frustrations at the same time. The harsh movements against her skin rekindled a disturbing revelation. The last man she had slept with was Duane Harvey over ten years ago. As her fingers moved over her breasts, Riggs’s face appeared again in her thoughts. She shook her head angrily, closed her eyes again, and laid her face against the wall of the shower. The costly imported tile was wet and warm. She remained in that position despite danger signs flashing in her mind. So wet. So warm. So safe. Almost unconsciously her hands dipped to her waist and then over her buttocks and all the while Matthew Riggs resided in her thoughts. She kept her eyes scrunched tight. The fingers of her right hand slithered around to her navel. Her breaths became heavier. Under the sounds of the water, a low moan passed over her lips. A large tear made its way down her face before it was washed away. Ten years. Ten damned years. The fingers of her two hands were touching now, intermeshed in a way, like the gears of a clock. Slow, methodical, reliable. Back and forth . . . She jerked straight up so quickly she almost smashed her skull against the showerhead.
“Good Lord, LuAnn!” She exclaimed this to herself. She cut off the water and stepped out of the shower. She sat down on the lid of the toilet and hung her head between her knees; the light-headedness was already passing. Her wet hair sprawled across her long, bare legs. The floor became sopping wet as the water poured off her body. She glanced over at the shower, a guilty look on her face. The muscles in her back bunched together, the veins in her arms swelled large. It wasn’t easy. It just wasn’t easy at all.
She rose on unsteady legs, toweled off, and went into the bedroom.
Among the costly furnishings of her bedroom was a very familiar object. The clock her mother had given her ticked away, and as LuAnn listened, her nerves began to reassemble themselves. Thank God she had stuffed it in her bag right before almost being killed in that trailer so many years ago. Even now she would lie awake at night listening to its clunkiness. It skipped every third beat and at around five o’clock in the afternoon it would make a noise like someone had lightly smacked a cymbal. The gears and wires, the guts of the contraption, were tired; but it was like listening to an old friend strum on a weathered guitar, the notes not what they should be, ideally, but holding comfort for her, some peace.
She pulled on a pair of panties and then went back into the bathroom to dry her hair. Looking in the mirror she saw a woman on the brink of something: disaster probably. Should she start seeing a shrink? Didn’t you have to be truthful in therapy in order to make any progress? She mouthed this question to her reflection in the mirror.
No, psychotherapy wasn’t going to be an option. As usual, she would just go it alone.
She traced the scar on her face, letting her finger feel each contour of the ridged, damaged skin, in essence reliving the painful events of her past. Never forget, she told herself. It’s all a sham. All a lie.
She finished drying her hair, and was about to go back into the bedroom and collapse onto the bed when Lisa’s words came back to her. She just couldn’t let that resentment and anger fester all night. She had to talk to her daughter again. Or at least try to.
She went back into the bedroom to put on her robe before heading for Lisa’s room.
“Hello, LuAnn.”
So stunned was LuAnn that she had to reach out and grip the doorjamb or she would’ve sagged to the floor. As LuAnn stared at him, she found that the muscles in her face had ceased to function. She couldn’t even form a response, as though she had just suffered a stroke.
“It’s been a long time.” Jackson stepped away from the window and sat down on the edge of the bed.
His casual movements finally broke LuAnn free from her inertia. “How the hell did you get in here?”
“Not relevant.” The words and tone were instantly familiar to her. All those years ago came rushing back with such speed that the effect was nearly incapacitating.
“What do you want?” She forced the words to come out.
“Ah, very relevant. However, we have much to discuss, and I would suggest you do so in the comfort of some clothing.” He stared pointedly at her body.
LuAnn found it extremely difficult to take her eyes off him. Being half naked in front of the man was far less disturbing than having to turn her back on him. Finally, she threw open her closet door, pulled out a knee-length robe, and quickly put it on. She cinched the robe tightly around her waist and turned back around. Jackson wasn’t even looking at her. His eyes roamed the spectacular parameters of her boudoir; his gaze rested on the clock on the wall briefly and then moved on. Apparently, the brief view of her body — a sight many men would have paid hard cash for — had inspired in him nothing more than extreme diffidence.
“You’ve done well for yourself. If I remember correctly, your previous decorating tastes were limited to dirty linoleum and Goodwill castoffs.”
“I don’t appreciate this intrusion.”
He swiveled his head around and his eyes flashed into hers. “And I don’t appreciate having to take time away from a very busy schedule to rescue you yet again, LuAnn. By the way, do you prefer LuAnn or Catherine?”
“I’ll let you choose,” she said sharply. “And I don’t need to be rescued by anyone, certainly not by you.”
He rose from the bed and scrutinized her altered appearance closely. “Very good. Not quite as good as I could have done, but I won’t nit-pick,” he finally said. “Still, the look is very chic, very sophisticated. Congratulations.”
LuAnn responded by remarking, “The last time I saw you, you were wearing a dress. Other than that, you haven’t changed much.”
Jackson still had on the dark clothing he had worn at the cottage. His features were the same as for their first meeting, although he had not covered his lean frame with padding. He thrust his head forward; the smile seemed to engulf his entire face. “Didn’t you know?” he said. “Aside from my other remarkable abilities, I also never age.” His smile receded as quickly as it had appeared. “Now, let’s talk.” He once again perched on the edge of the bed and motioned for LuAnn to sit at a small antique writing desk situated against one wall. She did so.
“What about?”
“I understand you had a visitor. A man who chased you in a car?”
“How the hell do you know that?” LuAnn said angrily.
“You just won’t accept the fact that you can’t conceal information from me. Like the fact that you have re-entered the United States against my most explicit instructions.”
“The ten years are up.”
“Funny, I don’t remember setting an expiration date on those instructions.”
“You can’t expect me to run for the rest of my life.”
“On the contrary, that is exactly what I expect. That is exactly what I demand.”
“You cannot run my life.”
Jackson looked around the room again and then stood up. “First things first. Tell me about the man.”
“I can handle this situation by myself.”
“Is that right? From what I can tell, you’ve committed one blunder after another.”
“I want you to leave right now. I want you to get the hell out of my house.”
Jackson calmly shook his head. “The years have done nothing to ameliorate your temper. An unlimited supply of money can’t purchase good breeding or tact, can it?”
“Go to hell.”
In response Jackson reached one hand inside his jacket.
In an instant LuAnn had snatched up a letter opener from her writing desk. She cocked her arm back in preparation to hurl it. “I can kill you with this from twenty feet. Money can buy a lot of things.”
Jackson shook his head sadly. “Ten years ago I found you, a young girl with a good head on her shoulders in very difficult circumstances. But you were still white trash, LuAnn. And, I’m afraid to say, some things just don’t change.” His hand slowly came out of his jacket. In it he held a slip of paper. “You can put your little toy away. You won’t need it.” He looked at her with a calmness that managed, under the circumstances, to paralyze her. “At least not tonight.” He unfolded the paper. “Now, I understand that two men have recently entered your life: Matthew Riggs is one; the other is as yet unidentified.”
LuAnn slowly dropped her arm, but she still clutched the letter opener in her hand.
Jackson looked up from the paper. “I have a vested interest in ensuring that your secret never be found out. I have a number of ongoing business activities, and above all I value anonymity. You’re one in a line of dominoes. And when they start to fall, they tend to keep falling until they reach the end. I am that end. Do you understand?”
LuAnn sat back down in the chair and crossed her legs. “Yes,” she answered curtly.
“You have unnecessarily complicated my life by coming back to the United States. The man who is following you discovered your identity, in part, through your tax records. That is why I never wanted you to come back here.”
“I probably shouldn’t have,” LuAnn conceded. “But you try moving just about every six months, a new country, a new language. And try doing it with a little girl.”
“I appreciate your difficulties; however, I assumed that being one of the richest women on earth would more than make up the difference.”
“Like you said, money can’t buy everything.”
“You never met the man before? In your extensive travels? You’re absolutely certain?”
“I would’ve remembered. I’ve remembered everything the last ten years.” She said this softly.
Jackson studied her closely. “I believe you. Do you have any reason to think that he knows about the lottery?”
LuAnn hesitated a second. “No.”
“You’re lying. Tell me the truth immediately or I’ll kill everyone in this house starting with you.” This abrupt threat, delivered calmly and precisely, made her suck in her breath.
She swallowed with difficulty. “He had a list. A list with twelve names on it. Mine, Herman Rudy, Bobbie Jo Reynolds, and some others.”
Jackson assimilated this information rapidly and then looked down at the paper. “And the man Riggs?”
“What about him?”
“There’s some confusion as to his background.”
“Everyone has secrets.”
Jackson smiled. “Touché. Under other circumstances that would not bother me. However, in this instance it does.”
“I’m not following you.”
“Riggs has a mysterious past and he just happens to be around when you need assistance. I take it he did help you.”
“That’s not the point. I’m not suggesting the man is a plant. I am suggesting that he could well be something entirely different than what he claims. Now he coincidentally collides with your world. That’s what worries me.”
“I don’t think it was anything other than a coincidence. He was hired to do a job for me. It was perfectly natural that he would be nearby when the other man started chasing me.”
Jackson shook his head. “I don’t like it. I saw him tonight.” LuAnn stiffened perceptibly. “At the cottage. I was this close to him.” He spread his hands about two feet apart. “I contemplated
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