The Winner

by David Baldacci

  She turned to look at him and nodded faintly. “LuAnn Tyler. You were right about Georgia. Ten years ago I was a lot different. A lot.”

  “I believe it, although I bet you’ve always had that right cross.” He attempted a smile, but neither of them was buying it.

  She watched Riggs as he dug into his pants pocket. He tossed something to her. She caught the keys in the palm of her hand. “Thanks for letting me use your BMW; you might need the horsepower in case he starts chasing you again.”

  She frowned, looked down, and then walked out of the room.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Wearing a long black leather coat and a matching hat, her eyes hidden behind a pair of Ray-Bans, LuAnn stood outside the “Ordinary,” an aged wooden building that was part of Michie’s Tavern, a historic structure originally built in the late 1700s and later moved to its current location down the road from Monticello in the late 1920s. It was lunchtime and the place was starting to fill up with tourists either lining their stomachs with the fried chicken buffet offered there after touring Jefferson’s home and its neighbor Ash Lawn, or fueling up before setting out on the tour. Inside, a fire blazed in the hearth and LuAnn, who had arrived early to check things out, had soaked in the warmth from the flames before deciding to wait for him outside. She looked up when the man walked toward her. Even without his beard she recognized him.

  “Let’s go,” Donovan said.

  LuAnn looked at him. “Go where?”

  “You follow me in your car. I’ll be checking my rearview mirror. If I see anyone who remotely looks like they’re following us, then I pick up my cell phone and you go to prison.”

  “I’m not following you anywhere.”

  He leaned into her face and said quietly, “I think you might want to reconsider.”

  “I don’t know who you are or what you want. You said you wanted to meet. Well, I’m here.”

  Donovan looked around at the line of people making their way into the tavern. “I had in mind a little more privacy than this.”

  “You picked the place.”

  “That I did.” Donovan jammed his hands in his pocket and stared at her in obvious discomfort.

  LuAnn broke the silence. “I’ll tell you what, we’ll go for a drive in my car.” She stared at him ominously and spoke in low tones. “But don’t try anything because if you do, I will hurt you.”

  Donovan snorted for a moment and then just as quickly stopped as he stared into her eyes. An involuntary shiver swept over him. He followed her long strides to her car.

  LuAnn got on Interstate 64 and put the big sedan on cruise control.

  Donovan turned to her. “You know, you threatened me back there with bodily injury. Maybe you did kill that guy in the trailer.”

  “I didn’t murder anyone. I didn’t do anything wrong in that trailer.”

  Donovan studied her features and then looked away. When he spoke next, his tone was softer, calmer. “I didn’t spend the last several months tracking you down, LuAnn, in order to destroy your life.”

  She glanced over at him. “Then what did you track me down for?”

  “Tell me what did happen in that trailer.”

  LuAnn shook her head in frustration and remained silent.

  “I’ve dug through a lot of dirt over the years, and I can read between the lines with the best of them. I don’t believe you murdered anyone,” Donovan said. “Come on, I’m not a cop. You can check me for a wire if you want. I’ve read all the newspaper accounts. I’d like to hear your version.”

  LuAnn let out a deep sigh and looked over at him. “Duane was dealing drugs. I didn’t know anything about it. I just wanted to get out of that life. I went to the trailer to tell him so. Duane was cut up very badly. A man grabbed me, tried to cut my throat. We fought. I hit him with the telephone and he died.”

  Donovan looked puzzled. “You just hit him with the telephone?”

  “Really hard. I guess I cracked his skull.”

  Donovan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The man didn’t die from that. He was stabbed to death.”

  The BMW almost ran off the road before LuAnn regained control. LuAnn stared over at him, her eyes wide. “What?” she gasped.

  “I’ve seen the autopsy reports. He did have a wound to the head, but it wasn’t fatal. He died from multiple stab wounds to his chest. No doubt about it.”

  It didn’t take LuAnn long to realize the truth. Rainbow. Rainbow had killed him. And then lied to her. She shook her head. Why should that be such a big surprise, she thought. “All these years, I believed that I had killed him.”

  “That’s a horrible thing to carry around inside. I’m glad I could clear your conscience on it.”

  “The police can’t still be interested in all this. It’s been ten years,” LuAnn said.

  “That’s where you’ve run into some incredibly bad luck. Duane Harvey’s uncle is the sheriff in Rikersville now.”

  “Billy Harvey is sheriff?” LuAnn said in astonishment. “He’s one of the biggest crooks down there. He had an auto chop shop. He ran gambling in the back rooms of the bars; he was into everything you could earn a buck from illegally. Duane kept trying to get in on it, but Billy knew Duane was too stupid and unreliable. That’s probably why he ended up selling drugs over in Gwinnett.”

  “I don’t doubt it. But the fact is he’s sheriff. Probably figured the best way to avoid trouble with the police was to become the police.”

  “So you talked to him?”

  Donovan nodded. “According to him, the whole family has never gotten over poor Duane and his hasty exit from the living. He said the drug dealing sort of besmirched the whole family. And the money you sent? Instead of salving over those wounds, they took it as pouring salt on them, like you were trying to buy them off somehow. I mean they spent it and all, but they still didn’t like it, at least according to the illustrious Billy Harvey. Bottom line is, he told me that the investigation is still active and he’s not going to rest until LuAnn Tyler is brought in for trial. From what I can tell his theory is that you’re the one who was involved in the drug dealing because you wanted to escape Duane and the boring life. Duane died trying to protect you and then you murdered the other guy, who allegedly was your partner.”

  “That’s a bunch of lies.”

  Donovan shrugged. “You know it is, I know it is. But the people deciding that will be a jury of your peers down in Rikersville, Georgia.” He took a moment to appraise her expensive clothing. “Or a jury of whom your peers used to be. I wouldn’t recommend that you wear that outfit to the trial. It might rub people the wrong way. Duane being flower food and all these last ten years while you were living the high life and doing a pretty good impersonation of Jackie O, it just wouldn’t sit well with the good folks down there.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” She paused for a moment. “So is that your deal? If I don’t talk, you’re going to throw me to Billy Harvey?”

  Donovan patted the dashboard. “It may surprise you to know that I don’t give a damn about all that stuff. If you hit that man, you did it in self-defense. That I believe.”

  LuAnn lifted her sunglasses and stared across at him. “Then what do you care about?”

  He leaned toward her. “The lottery.” His eyebrows arched.

  LuAnn spoke evenly. “What about it?”

  “You won it ten years ago. One hundred million dollars.”

  “So?”

  “So, how’d you do it?”

  “I bought a ticket that turned out to be the winning number, how else do you do it?”

  “I don’t mean that. Let me fill you in on something. Without getting too technical, I went back through years’ worth of lottery winners. There’s a constant rate of bankruptcy declared by all those winners. Nine out of twelve every year. Bang, bang, you can set your clock by it. Then I run across twelve consecutive winners who somehow managed to avoid the big B and you were smack in the middle of that unique group. Now how is that possible?�
��

  She glanced over at him. “How should I know? I’ve got good money managers. Maybe they do too.”

  “You haven’t paid taxes on your income nine out of the last ten years; I guess that helps.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Again, all sorts of information is available. You just have to know where to look. I know where to look.”

  “You’d have to talk to my financial people about that. I was in other parts of the world during that time, maybe the income wasn’t taxable in the U.S.”

  “I doubt that. I’ve written enough financial stories to know that there’s almost nothing Uncle Sam won’t tax, if he can find it, that is.”

  “So call up the IRS and report me.”

  “That’s not the story I’m looking for.”

  “Story?”

  “That’s right. I forgot to fill you in on the reason I came to visit you. My name’s Thomas Donovan. You probably haven’t heard of me, but I’m a journalist for the Washington Trib going on thirty years now and a damned good one even if I am blowing my own horn. A while back I decided to do a story on the national lottery. Personally, I think the whole thing is a travesty. Our own government doing that to the poorest among us. Dangling carrots like that, all the catchy ads, enticing people to cash in their Social Security checks to play something with odds at millions to one. Excuse the soapbox, but I only write about things I feel passionate about. Anyway, my original angle was the rich sucking it back out of the poor after they hit the jackpot. You know, investment shysters, people peddling one scheme after another, and the government just letting them go right ahead and do it, and then when the winners’ finances are so screwed up, they haven’t paid enough tax or what-not, the IRS comes in and takes every last dime, leaving them poorer than before they won. A good story, and one I feel needs to be told. Well, while I’m researching the story, I find out this interesting coincidence about all the lottery winners from your year: They didn’t lose a dime of their money. In fact, using their tax returns as a gauge, they’re all richer now. A lot richer. So I track you down and here I am. What I want is simple: the truth.”

  “And if I don’t tell you, I end up in a Georgia prison, is that it? That’s what you implied over the phone.”

  Donovan stared across at her angrily. “I won two Pulitzers before I was thirty-five. I’ve covered Vietnam, Korea, China, Bosnia, South Africa. Gotten my ass shot up twice. I’ve spent my life chasing every hot spot in the world. I’m as legit as they come. I’m not going to blackmail you, because I don’t operate that way. I told you that over the phone just to get you to meet with me. If Sheriff Billy catches up to you it’s not going to be with my help. Personally, I hope he never does.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But if you don’t tell me the truth, I’ll find it out someplace else. And then I’m going to write that story. And if you don’t tell me your side of things, I can’t guarantee how flatteringly I can portray you. I report the facts, guilt will fall where it may. If you’re willing to talk to me, I can guarantee only one thing: that your side of the story will be heard. But if you’ve broken the law somehow, there’s nothing I can do about that. I’m not a cop, and I’m not a judge.” He paused and looked at her. “So what’s it going to be?”

  She didn’t speak for several minutes, her eyes staring down the road. He could see the conflict going on inside her.

  Finally she looked over at him. “I want to tell you the truth. God, I want to tell somebody the truth.” She took a deep breath that almost turned into a shudder. “But I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re already in a great deal of danger. If I were to talk to you, that danger would turn to an absolute certainty that you’re going to die.”

  “Come on, LuAnn, I’ve been in dangerous spots before. It comes with the territory. What is it, and who’s behind it?”

  “I want you to leave the country.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’ll pay. You pick a place, I’ll make all the arrangements. I’ll set up an account for you.”

  “Is that your way of dealing with problems? Send them off to Europe? Sorry, but I’ve got a life right here.”

  “That’s just it. If you stay you’re not going to have a life.”

  “You’re really going to have to do better than that. If you’d work with me, we could really accomplish something here. Just talk to me. Trust me. I didn’t come down here to shake you down. But I also didn’t come down here to be thrown a bunch of bullshit.”

  “I’m telling you the truth. You are in serious danger!”

  Donovan wasn’t listening now. He rubbed his chin as he thought out loud. “Similar backgrounds. All poor, desperate. It made for great stories, really picked up the numbers of players.” He looked at her, clutched her arm. “Come on, LuAnn, you had help leaving the country ten years ago. You’ve gotten a whole lot richer. I can smell the story here, if you’d just give me the right angle. This could rank right up there with the Lindbergh baby and who shot JFK. I’ve got to know the truth. Is the government behind this, whatever this is? They’re making billions off this thing every month, sucking it out of the rest of us. Taxation without representation.” Donovan rubbed eager hands together. “Are we talking all the way to the White House? Please tell me we are.”

  “I’m not telling you anything. And I’m doing it to keep you as safe as I can.”

  “If you work with me, we both win.”

  “I don’t consider being murdered winning. Do you?”

  “Last chance.”

  “Will you please believe me?”

  “Believe what? You haven’t told me anything,” he bellowed.

  “If I tell you what I know, it’s like I’m putting a pistol against your head and pulling the trigger myself.”

  Donovan sighed. “Then why don’t you take me back to my car. I don’t know, LuAnn, I guess I expected more from you. You grew up dirt-poor, raised a kid by yourself, and then got this incredible break. I thought you might give a crap.”

  LuAnn put the car in gear and they started off again. She glanced once or twice at him and then started speaking in a very low voice, as though she were afraid of being overheard. “Mr. Donovan, the person who is looking for you right this very minute is not someone you want to mess around with. He told me he’s going to kill you because you might know too much. And he will. Unless you leave right now, he’ll find you for sure and when he does it won’t be pretty. This person can do anything. Anything.”

  Donovan snorted and then his face froze. He slowly turned and looked at her as the answer finally hit him. “Including making a poor woman from Georgia rich?”

  Donovan saw LuAnn jerk slightly as he said the words. His eyes widened. “Jesus, that’s it, isn’t it? You said this man can do anything. He made you the lottery winner, didn’t he? A woman barely out of her teens running from the police after believing she committed a murder—”

  “Mr. Donovan, please.”

  “She stops to buy a lottery ticket and then just happens to travel to New York where the lottery drawing is being held. And what do you know, she wins a hundred million bucks.” Donovan slapped the dashboard with the palm of his hand. “Good God, the national lottery was fixed.”

  “Mr. Donovan, you have got to let it drop.”

  Donovan’s face flushed crimson. “No way, LuAnn. No way am I letting this drop. Like I said, you couldn’t have eluded the NYPD and the FBI all by yourself. You had help, a lot of help. This elaborate cover story you had in Europe. Your ‘perfect’ money managers. This guy set all of it up. All of it, didn’t he? Didn’t he?” LuAnn didn’t answer. “God, I can’t believe I didn’t see it all before. Sitting here talking to you, it just all fell into place. I’ve been drifting in circles for months and now—” He turned sideways in his seat. “You’re not the only one either, are you? The other eleven nonbankrupts? Maybe more. Am I right?”

  LuAnn was shaking her head hard. “Please st
op.”

  “He didn’t do it for free. He must’ve gotten some of your winnings. But, Christ, how did he fix it? Why? What’s he doing with all that money? It can’t be just one guy.” Donovan fired questions left and right. “Who, what, when, why, how?” He gripped her shoulder. “Okay, I’ll accept your statement that whoever is behind this is one very dangerous individual. But don’t discount the power of the press, LuAnn. It’s toppled crooks bigger than this guy. We can do it, if we work together.” When LuAnn didn’t respond, Donovan let go of her shoulder. “All I’m asking is that you think about it, LuAnn. But we don’t have a lot of time.”

  When they returned to his car Donovan got out and then poked his head back in the door. “This number will reach me.” He handed across a card. LuAnn didn’t take it.

  “I don’t want to know how to reach you. You’ll be safer that way.” LuAnn suddenly reached across and grabbed his hand. Donovan winced from the pressure of her fingers.

  “Will you please take this?” She reached in her purse and took