For the Defense

by Maggie Wells

  The question earned him a wadded-up piece of paper tossed directly at his head. “They’re delicious, but I may not want to share them.”

  Ben was not deterred. “The point is, he specifically asked you.”

  “He said I could bring anybody I wanted. I could bring a date.”

  Ben shook his head. “Oh, no. Not cool. Go or don’t go, but don’t bring a date,” he advised.

  Lori gaped, looking from Julianne to Ben and back again. “I don’t get it. What are you two picking up on that I’m not? What makes you think he’s concerned about whether I come or not?”

  “I can’t speak for Ben and his masculine intuition...” Julianne paused and her smile softened. “But I’d say it’s because he looks at you the same way he used to look at me when he was seven—I mean, twelve.”

  * * *

  LORI WAS SURPRISED by how receptive Lena was to spending the day with her on Saturday, but when the teenager slid into her car, Lori suspected there’d been an ulterior motive behind Lena’s eagerness. Eyeballing her sister as she settled into the passenger seat, she asked, “What has you all perky?”

  Lena shook her head a tad too vigorously. “Nothing. I’m excited to spend the day with you.”

  The bright, cheerful greeting was so out of character with everything Lori had heard come out of her sister’s mouth for the past six months, it set her antennae vibrating. “Uh-huh.”

  She put the car in gear and checked over her shoulder as she pulled away from the curb and her mother’s house. “Okay. Hey, do you want me to take you somewhere to practice driving? Or maybe up and down some back roads? You have your permit on you, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but the permit says I can only drive with a parent or guardian.”

  Lori cut her sister a sidelong glance. “You might have heard—I have an in with the cops in this town,” she said dryly.

  Lena gasped in mock horror. “You’re suggesting we break the law?”

  “Never mind. It was only an idea.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “So, what do you want to do today?”

  Her sister clapped her hands together and whispered in an excited rush, “I think we should go to the Reptile Rendezvous.”

  Lori reared back, wrinkling her nose at the thought of going anywhere near Samuel Coulter’s place. “What? Why?”

  “Because I want to get a look at it,” Lena insisted. “It’s all anyone at school is talking about, plus the whole deal with Jasmine.”

  “Right,” Lori said slowly, hating herself for warming to the idea.

  “I want to go and see what the big whoop is,” Lena said, a note of wheedling undercutting her overenthusiastic response.

  “Honey, going there is not a great idea.”

  “You asked what I wanted to do today. This is what I want to do.” In a blink, the chipper girl who’d greeted her was gone.

  She slowed the car to a roll, but Lena seemed oblivious. She jolted them to a stop at the corner, garnering her sister’s full, if sullen, attention. “You want to do this?” she asked, pinning Lena with a pointed stare. “It could be supercreepy there.”

  Her younger sister rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s going to be creepy—it’s full of snakes.”

  In a half-hearted attempt to steer their day toward something brighter, Lori offered a tempting alternative. “I could drive you up to the mall,” she said enticingly.

  Lena chewed her lip, clearly weighing the pros and cons of wheedling a new top or two out of Lori’s last paycheck versus getting an eyeful of the guy her best friend was ditching her for.

  Finally, Lena heaved a sigh and said, “They’re only open to the public on Saturdays and Sundays. It might sound stupid, but I need to see this guy.” When Lori started to answer, Lena held up a hand. “I know, I’ve seen his pictures online, but I want to see him live and in person. I have to see if he’s all that.” Her dark eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Why is he so special he’s worth ditching twelve years of friendship?”

  “Oh, honey.” Lori reached across and gave her sister’s hand a squeeze. “I wish I had the right things to say.”

  Her sister gave a watery laugh. “There’s nothing to say. And I need to see why everyone is making such a big deal about this place. Half the kids at school are trying to get jobs there. It’s all anyone talks about. It has to be because it’s so creepy, right? With the snakes?”

  Lori could hear the tears clogging Lena’s throat, so she swallowed her own apprehension and hooked a left, heading for the highway. “You’re probably right. If you think it will make you feel better, we’ll go get creeped out together.”

  Twenty minutes later, she approached the sign directing them to the parking area for the Reptile Rendezvous, wondering for the hundredth time whose palm Coulter had greased to get the permits for this place. Did he have Simon’s dad in his back pocket? Lori shuddered at the thought.

  Though Dell Wingate was in Atlanta far more than in his native Pine Bluff, Lori had always respected their assemblyman. The Wingates were a case study in superior genetics. Dell was open, affable and handsome. She also believed he held their district’s best interests at heart. Would he have helped a scumbag like Coulter set up shop in their own backyard?

  She followed the waving hands of a pimply-faced teenager in a yellow safety vest. She and Lena didn’t speak as they bumped across a field mowed down to be the parking area. He waved her into a spot beside a pickup truck so dented and rusted Lori feared for her car’s doors and quarter panels. Reaching across, she held on to her sister’s arm to keep her in place until another car slid into the spot on the driver’s side. “Hold up. Let’s let them all get out first.”

  Lena huffed, but waited. When the coast was clear, they opened their doors cautiously, careful not to touch the vehicles wedged in tight. Lori didn’t exactly drag her feet as they headed toward the entry, but she did hang back. Years of training had her on high alert, scanning the crowd, the single points of entrance and egress, and eyeballing the uniformed staff manning the gate.

  Lena raced ahead toward the plywood outbuilding marked Ticket Office, but Lori walked slowly, checking out the patrons who’d chosen to spend their Saturday afternoon and a chunk of their paychecks on this, of all things.

  Lori purchased their tickets, all the while resenting the thought of her hard-earned money going to line the pockets of a guy who was reportedly already a millionaire. She followed her sister to the turnstile inside where arrows pointed them in about four different directions. None of the offerings remotely appealed to Lori.

  “I don’t suppose we can start with the turtles?” she asked Lena, indicating one of the arrows.

  The younger girl smiled but nodded to another arrow. “I’m pretty sure Jas said something about boa constrictors being the least gross of all the snakes.”

  Lori hiked her purse high on her shoulder and followed when Lena set off in the indicated direction. “How do you think she figures they are the least gross?”

  Lena didn’t glance back when she shrugged. “They swallow things whole, right? No biting?”

  “I have no earthly idea,” Lori replied honestly. “I think maybe they bite, but they aren’t venomous. They paralyze their prey and just...squeeze.” She blew out a breath when the path widened to what appeared to be some kind of viewing area. “I don’t think I want to know.”

  Lena giggled when an enclosure covered in fine wire mesh came into view. “I don’t either.”

  “Maybe no one will notice if we look away,” Lori whispered. They moved to the back of the group of people knotted at the rail and peering into the massive cage.

  Lori’s heart rate kicked up a few notches when she saw the slow slide of a thick, scaly creature moving along the base of the enclosure. “This can’t be safe,” she muttered.

  Lena snorted a laugh but took a step back, nearly crus
hing Lori’s big toe in the process. “He can’t unlatch the gate thingy,” she answered. “No thumbs, remember?”

  A few more people came up behind them, and the two of them sank deeper into the back of the crowd, eyeing the enclosure warily. Nearby, Lori heard a woman say something to her companion about it being nearly feeding time, and she shuddered when her own ghoulish stomach gave a loud rumble.

  Then a young man wearing khaki pants and a safari-style shirt with an interlocking-R logo on the patch pocket stepped out of a hidden doorway at the back of the enclosure. The short sleeves of his uniform shirt did nothing to hide the artwork on his arms. Tattoos of serpents slithered out from under the cotton to wind around his forearms. When he lifted a five-gallon pail by the handle, Lori caught a glimpse of a flat-eyed snake head inked into the back of his hand.

  She tore her gaze away from those mesmerizing tats to look up at the guy’s face. He was young—nineteen, tops. The scruffy beard he was cultivating did him no favors in the looks department, but the even white smile he flashed at the crowd more than made up for his appearance.

  “Oh, my God,” the sisters said in unison.

  “That’s him, isn’t it?” When Lena didn’t answer, Lori glanced over and saw her sister staring at someone in the front row of spectators. “What? What’s wrong?”

  Lena nodded to the rail, and Lori saw a petite dark-haired girl grinning and waving to the young man inside the cage. “Is that Jasmine?”

  Lena swallowed hard and nodded emphatically.

  Lori tracked the guy she presumed to be Rick. He made his way around the enclosure with practiced ease. When he launched into a fairly generic-sounding spiel about boa constrictors, their natural habitats and the characteristics unique to the species, she tuned out. Lifting her gaze, she caught sight of another, smaller snake wound around the branch of one of the enclosure’s trees and wondered if this was the cage Bella Nunes had been locked in, or if Coulter chose to use more-venomous creatures to terrorize his guests.

  Forcing herself to focus on the task at hand, she leaned closer to her sister and whispered, “Did she say she was going to be here today? Is that why we came?”

  Lena’s narrow shoulders jerked up and down, but she shook her head. “She said she was doing something with her mom.”

  Lori was about to launch into a round of reassuring comments when her sister whirled to face her. “Can we go now?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to remind Lena she’d paid fifteen dollars a ticket to get them through the gate merely five minutes ago, but the desperation written all over her sister’s face was enough to discount the price of admission.

  “Yep.” Wrapping her arm around Lena’s shoulders, she nodded to the path leading back to the front gate. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  They’d almost made it back to the entrance when Lena said sullenly, “He’s not even cute in person.”

  Lori could see why the guy would appeal to a young woman looking for a walk on the wild side. She wouldn’t defend Jasmine’s questionable taste in guys, so she said the only thing a real sister could say. “No, definitely not.”

  Lena veered toward the small building marked Restrooms. “I’ll only be a minute,” she promised, darting toward the ladies’ room. Lori could have used a pit stop herself, but something in the way Lena moved said her sister needed a minute alone, so she held back.

  Leaning against a block wall, Lori watched a steady trickle of people come and go. It was by no means a Six Flags crowd, but for a patch of nothing in the middle of nowhere, she had to admit old Sammy was doing a steady business on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

  Her gaze strayed to the small thatched roof of a kiosk where a young girl stood selling souvenirs. There was something familiar about the girl, but the niggling sensation wasn’t unusual. Most of the families in rural Masters County came to Pine Bluff to do their banking and shopping. It was possible she’d been seeing the girl around town for years without truly noticing her.

  Lori’s gaze drifted away, but she jerked her attention back when she realized exactly where she’d seen the girl. She pulled out her phone and checked the notification she’d saved. Straightening away from the building, she locked in on the girl and whispered, “Kaylin Bowers.”

  Instinctively, she reached for her belt, forgetting she was off duty. Her trusty Glock was in her purse, but drawing a weapon in a crowded place was not a good idea. She needed to get a better look at the girl. Lori took two steps toward the small souvenir stand. Kaylin didn’t seem to be there under duress. As a matter of fact, she was smiling. She was about to approach the girl when her sister came out of nowhere to grab her arm and spin her toward the exit.

  “Come on. I want to go,” Lena insisted.

  “Okay, but, honey—” Lori twisted to look back over her shoulder to be sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

  “Now, Lori, please?” Lena wheedled.

  Lori planted her feet and looked back at the souvenir stand. Kaylin smiled wide as she was relieved from souvenir duty by another young man with a crisp khaki shirt.

  “Well, damn,” Lori muttered to herself. “Everyone does want to work here.”

  “Can we go?” Lena repeated. “I want to get out of here.”

  Judging by the girl’s happy demeanor, Kaylin had obviously left home of her own free will. If she approached, she might scare her off. Aware that her own teenage sister was watching, Lori backed away a step. Lena would not appreciate Lori drawing too much attention to them, particularly when she was so desperate to leave without Jasmine knowing they’d seen her. The best thing she could do was to call in the sighting and let the officer on duty handle things.

  “Okay, but I need to make a call.”

  They pushed their way through the exit, and Lena took off across the rutted field. Lori pulled her phone from her purse and speed-dialed the office. “Mike? Listen, I’m out of uniform and with my sister, but can you saddle up and make your way over to the Reptile Rendezvous?” She paused when they reached her car, and she looked back at the entrance. “Yeah. Reptile Rendezvous. Alert the fellas over at Prescott County. I’ve spotted Kaylin Bowers selling souvenirs on Samuel Coulter’s property.”

  Chapter Six

  Simon’s Saturday started going downhill late Friday afternoon, which had to be some kind of record. He’d received a call from Samuel Coulter as he was packing up his briefcase.

  “I’ve shipped a package to your office overnight express. It’s valuable. I need you to be there to sign for it,” Coulter announced without preamble.

  Taken aback by the man’s audacity, Simon answered with only a murmured “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

  “I am aware, but I’m in Florida to do some, uh, fishing.” Coulter paused. “I was informed the merchandise I ordered was available for immediate shipment, so I asked them to direct it your way.”

  “I’m not in the habit of receiving packages of unknown origin or packages addressed to persons other than myself,” Simon informed him.

  “A good policy in general, but I am your client. I recall a rather hefty retainer tacked onto our agreement for billable hours.” The other man chuckled, and Simon stiffened. “I’m sure the retainer must cover signatory services.”

  “Why not send it to your own business?”

  “I can’t trust some hourly knucklehead with anything truly important. I only pay them a dollar over minimum wage. This box is valuable. I’d hate for it to go astray.”

  “I can’t accept delivery of anything illegal.”

  “Then I suggest, for your own comfort, you stop asking questions and don’t try to open my box.”

  With that, his client had hung up. Simon could only assume the man had silenced his phone, since repeated attempts to call him back went unanswered.

  And so, he’d gone into the office on Saturday morning. While he was waiting, he called
his grandfather. “Hey, do I have the pleasure of speaking to the almost honorable Wendell Wingate?” he asked when the older man answered.

  “There are some who’d argue the ‘almost’ should apply even if I am elected,” Wendell answered with a chortle.

  “When you are elected,” Simon corrected. “I think most of us would be okay with being called almost honorable. Beats being called a slimy snake handler.”

  The old man guffawed. “I take it your new client isn’t winning any popularity contests?”

  “Not with the local law enforcement,” Simon answered, a wry smile twisting his lips when he pictured Lori Cabrera squaring off with him at the Daisy Drive-In. “I have to admit, I’m not particularly a fan either.”

  “Well, you don’t have to befriend the man. You only have to be his lawyer,” his grandfather reminded him.

  “Right.” Simon rocked back in the enormous leather chair the old man had sat in and studied the shelves of leather-bound volumes behind the desk. “Which is why I’m at the office on a Saturday morning. Coulter had a package shipped to our offices. Says it’s valuable and will require a signature.”

  In an instant, his grandfather’s jovial bonhomie disappeared. Wendell was all business when he asked, “Did he say what the package contained?”

  “He did not give specifics, and I did not ask for them,” Simon replied, skimming over the gilt-lettered spines of decades-old law books.

  When he was a kid, he’d often wondered if they were for show. If maybe those expensive cordovan covers were simply a shell for blank pages, or perhaps they were hollowed-out hidey-holes. His first foray into a law library left him feeling overwhelmed and vaguely disappointed. Though he’d slogged through all three years of law school, he graduated with a new understanding of why his father had chosen politics over the practice of law.

  “Good,” Wendell grunted, interrupting his wandering thoughts. “Now, here’s what I want you to do. Call Dora and bribe her to come in and witness you signing for this package. Take photos of the box from all different angles to show no one has tampered with it in any way. Have Dora email the photos to you and copy the client. The delivery driver will have a time stamp, and you’ll have one too. When Coulter comes to collect the package, I want you to take pictures of your own to show the package was intact when he took receipt.”