Jack startled her with a short, harsh laugh.
“No,” he said. “She didn’t have to cheat, but she won on such a regular basis that the casino bosses assumed she was cheating. After she got banned from Vegas and Reno, Mom worked the smaller casinos up and down the West Coast. She was careful to win only small amounts, but people in that world tend to notice players who win consistently, so we moved around a lot.”
“You were with your mother while she was working the casino circuit?”
“Sure,” Jack said. “Where else would I be?”
“With your father?”
“He died before I was born. I never knew him or any of my relatives on his side of the family. His folks did not approve of my mother. In fairness, not many families would welcome a professional gambler into the clan.”
“Sort of like welcoming a hypnotist into the family, I suppose.”
“Maybe. My mother had an aunt who looked after me when I was little but after she died, Mom took me with her when she went on the road.”
“What about your education?”
Jack’s mouth curved faintly. “You could say I was homeschooled. Mom liked to read, so I learned to read, too. And I got a very, very good grounding in mathematics and probability theory.”
“From a very successful professional gambler.” Winter whistled softly. “Your mother was like you, wasn’t she? She had an intuitive grasp of chaos theory. She could calculate probabilities in her head.”
“In another life I think she would have ended up in the academic world. Instead, she discovered Internet gambling. Seemed like a good idea at the time because it meant we could finally settle down. All Mom needed was a computer. I was looking forward to attending a real school when Zane showed up looking for my mother.”
“How did he find her?”
“Online,” Jack said. “He had been exploring online gaming as a potential source of income. It didn’t take him long to identify consistent winners and losers. When he stumbled across Mom, he realized that she was not just a lucky gambler. Initially he assumed that she had developed some complex algorithm or maybe figured out how to hack the online games. Either way, he wanted her for his operation. He tracked her down and then he went into the con.”
“He told her that she was in danger?”
“He convinced her that the head of an online gaming mob was convinced that she was cheating. Zane said the mob guy intended to kill my mother and me as a lesson to other gamblers who might try to cheat them.”
“He convinced your mother that not only was she in jeopardy, so was her son. No wonder she panicked and agreed to join Zane’s cult.”
“The next thing we knew we were in the California compound and Mom was bringing in money hand over fist from various Internet gambling sites. Zane showed her how to create new identities at each site so that the Internet casinos could not spot her. And he told her that the whole operation was an elaborate sting set up by the FBI. After a while she realized that it was all a lie but by then it was too late. Looking back it’s easy to see that my mother was an ideal match for one of Zane’s favorite victim profiles.”
“What was the profile?”
“A single woman with no close family, a woman with a specific skill set that he happened to need. He drew in men, too, but they tended to have another profile—the classic cult soldier who is compelled by the charisma of the leader and the promise of status and power.”
Winter shuddered. “Such a system could not have endured for long. Sooner or later your mother and the other adults would have realized they had been conned.”
“You’d be amazed at how many people will put their faith in a sharp con man and keep the faith for years. But, yes, some of the women did figure out what was going on. They wanted out. The problem for them was how to rescue the hostages.”
“Their children.”
“My brothers and I recently discovered that a small group of women came up with a plan to hide Zane’s profits in an offshore account. The idea was to use the cash to ransom the kids. But before they could carry out the plan, Zane decided to torch the whole compound.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know what triggered his decision on that particular night,” Jack said. “The only thing we know for sure is that Zane never got his hands on the money that the women concealed in the offshore account.”
“How did you learn that?”
An ice-cold smile of satisfaction edged Jack’s mouth. “Because that money was recently found and distributed among the eight people who were locked up in the barn the night Zane destroyed his operation.”
“What happened to Zane?”
“Officially, he died in a fire on a yacht at sea.”
“But you and your family don’t believe that,” Winter said.
“No. We’ve chased him for years—there have been hints that he’s been living and operating in other parts of the world—but we’ve never found any solid leads.”
“Do you really think you’ve got more to work with because of what happened tonight?”
“I think that there is a high probability that tonight was about me. If I’m right, you were a pawn to be used and then discarded. Collateral damage. It’s classic Zane style.”
“I feel the need to play devil’s advocate here,” Winter said. “If you were the intended target, why would Zane go to the effort of whipping Kendall Moseley into a frenzy and sending him after me?”
“I can’t be certain of the details of the plan. Maybe I was supposed to die, too. I can envision a double murder–suicide scenario. Moseley kills you and then goes looking for me.”
Winter stilled. “Moseley said something about killing me and also the man I was sleeping with. Except he didn’t use the word sleeping. I thought he was delusional.”
Jack nodded, absorbing that information. “So, the plan probably went something like this: After Moseley takes out you and me, Zane, or someone who is working for him, would use Moseley’s own gun to kill him. Very neat. Classic triangle. Obsessed man kills object of his obsession and the man he thinks is having an affair with her and then takes his own life. No loose ends for my brothers to follow. They would have been suspicious but they wouldn’t have had any leads. And the cops would not have been interested.”
Winter felt as if Jack had dragged her aboard a runaway roller coaster. She caught her breath.
“Isn’t there at least a possibility that you’re reaching for connections that don’t exist?” she asked.
“Sure, there’s a possibility that I’m wrong, but I need to find out for certain whether that is the case. Think about it from my perspective. What are the odds that an unknown person would use a chat room to goad a deranged man into trying to murder a woman who just happens to be my new next-door neighbor?”
“It’s the coincidence of me being your neighbor that makes you think there’s more to this than meets the eye, isn’t it?”
“That’s one thing, yes. But it’s also the fact that Moseley brought two weapons with him last night—the knife and the gun. That doesn’t ring true. Why not just one weapon? It’s almost as if someone drew up a plan for him to follow.”
Winter cleared her throat. “That’s a reach, Jack.”
“There is another detail that makes me think I’m on the right track.”
“What is that?”
“The fact that the man who tried to murder you tonight died before he could talk to the cops. Talk about your amazing coincidences.”
Winter took a slow, steadying breath. “At this rate I may have to spring for my very own tinfoil helmet.”
“Welcome to the Zane Conspiracy Club. There’s more that you don’t know. A few months ago there were some incidents in Seattle that convinced me that if Quinton Zane was alive, he would be ready to come out of whatever hole he’s been living in abroad and return to
the States. But he has to know that he won’t ever be safe here unless he gets rid of my brothers and me.”
“Because, although everyone else thinks he died in that yacht fire, you and your family believe he’s alive. You’ll never stop looking for him.”
“It’s also a good bet that he knows I’m the one who is most likely to spot him coming.”
“Because of the way you think.”
Jack got to his feet and began to roam the small living room. “If I were in his shoes, I’d want to take me out of the equation first. I’d want to do it in a way that would be guaranteed not to provide Anson, Max and Cabot with solid leads, nothing that would point them or their associates in law enforcement in the right direction. To do that, I’d need camouflage. I’d need a strategy that would throw suspicion in an entirely different direction.”
“A known stalker,” Winter said. “Kendall Moseley.”
“Yes.”
“Whew. I’ll say one thing for you: When you do conspiracy theories, you do them very impressively.”
Jack went very still and watched her intently, not speaking. She knew he was steeling himself in the event that she rejected everything he had just told her.
“For the sake of argument,” she continued, “let’s go with the worst-case scenario and say you’re right. What happens now?”
“We need to talk to the last person to see Kendall Moseley alive,” he said.
“That would be someone at the hospital.”
“The chief said there was a cop stationed outside Moseley’s door. We should be able to find out exactly who came and went from the room.”
“You think that the last person to see Moseley alive probably killed him.”
“Yes. We need to move fast. We also need to be very careful. If Zane is out there and if I’m reading him accurately, he’ll have real trouble processing the failure of his plan. He’s not accustomed to screwing up. Failure will rattle him.”
“You make that sound like it’s a good thing.”
Jack glanced at her. “He’ll start moving more quickly in an attempt to get out ahead of the situation. That means he’ll be motivated to take some risks, which, in turn, raises the probability that he’ll make more mistakes.”
“How do you know all this, Jack?”
“I’ve been studying him for years.”
“In other words, you’ve been using your lucid dreaming ability to work out various scenarios.”
Once again Jack stopped pacing and met her eyes. “Do you think that sounds a little crazy?”
“No,” she said. “‘Crazy’ is an obsessed individual who tries to murder the object of his obsession. Kendall Moseley was a kind of crazy.”
Jack looked satisfied. He went to the window and contemplated the early-morning light on the sea.
“There is one thing I know for certain about Zane,” he said. “Whatever form his endgame takes, it will involve fire.”
He unclipped his phone.
“Who are you calling?” she asked.
“We need backup,” Jack said. “It’s time to call home.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“I don’t trust him, Easton.” Rebecca let the curtain drop and turned away from the window. “He makes me nervous. Do you know what he was doing just now out there on the balcony?”
Easton pushed aside the covers and sat up on the side of the bed. “I assume we’re talking about my long-lost older brother?”
Rebecca went to stand in front of the dressing table mirror. She wrapped her arms protectively around her midsection. Her pregnancy wasn’t showing yet, but the hormones had certainly kicked in.
“Lucan just burned a wadded-up piece of paper in the firepit,” she said. “Why would he do that at this hour of the morning?”
“I don’t know,” Easton said. “Could be any number of reasons, I suppose. Some information he didn’t want anyone else to see, maybe.”
She watched in the mirror as he climbed to his feet. He was grim-faced. She knew that he did not like being there under the same roof as his tyrant of a father.
Grayson Tazewell made no secret of the fact that he saw her as a threat and that he hoped there would soon be a divorce. It was the reason she and Easton had not yet told him about the baby. Grayson would be furious. Until the marriage, he had been convinced that he would be able to drag Easton back into Tazewell Global. Instead, the marriage had anchored Easton all the more firmly to Seattle and a future that did not include his father’s company.
The news that Tazewell Global was in trouble had come as a shock but it was nothing compared to the jolt that had been delivered by the arrival of Easton’s heretofore unknown half brother.
Easton got to his feet and moved to stand behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and met her eyes in the mirror. She knew that he wanted to offer reassurance but he was not sure how to do it.
“Lucan makes me uneasy, too,” he said. “But the Old Man thinks my half brother is the knight in shining armor who will save the company and everything that goes with it.”
“I don’t care about the business and neither do you.”
“True, but the Old Man is obsessed with it. He spent most of his life building it.”
“What are we doing here, Easton? Your father thinks Lucan can save the firm. Great. Let them do it together. They don’t need us.”
“We’re here because I don’t trust Lucan Tazewell any more than you do.”
“Good luck convincing your father that his long-lost son doesn’t have the best interests of Tazewell Global at heart. You saw Grayson at dinner last night. He hangs on every pearl that drops from Lucan’s mouth.”
“Lucan does speak the Old Man’s language. Let’s face it, Lucan is the son my dad always wanted. And, to be fair, I think it’s entirely possible that Lucan does have the company’s best interests at heart.”
“Really?” Rebecca turned around. “You honestly think that Lucan materialized out of nowhere just to save Tazewell Global?”
“I think it’s a strong possibility, yes.”
“Do you think he actually feels some loyalty or affection or . . . or a sense of family connection to a father who had completely forgotten about him?”
“I doubt if it was any of those things that brought Lucan back to save the company. But it’s entirely possible that his goal is to right the sinking ship.”
“Why? He’s obviously done very well on his own. He doesn’t need a company that is on the brink of bankruptcy.”
“I can think of one reason why he’s offering to save Tazewell Global,” Easton said.
“What?”
“Revenge.”
“That doesn’t make sense. How would saving the company be an act of revenge?”
Easton cupped her face between his hands. “Think of it this way—it would be a stunning act of payback if, when it’s all over, Lucan is the one who ends up as the president and CEO of Tazewell Global.”
She caught her breath. “You think he’s here to take control of the company? That would absolutely shatter your father. It might even kill him. Tazewell Global is the only thing he cares about.”
“Exactly. The company is everything to him. What better revenge than to take it from him and kick Grayson to the curb?”
“That’s the real reason we’re here, isn’t it? You want to try to warn your father.”
“It’s all I can do.” Easton released her. “But it probably won’t work. Grayson is dazzled by what Lucan is promising. The Old Man wants to buy what Lucan is selling.”
“You’ve got to admit that your half brother is a very, very good salesman.” Rebecca paused. “What if he’s a fraud? What if he isn’t your father’s son?”
Easton gave her a wry glance. “DNA doesn’t lie. Dad had that checked out back at the start.”
“You thin
k that Lucan may be here because he wants to take control of your father’s empire? That is . . . absolutely breathtaking.”
“We sound like a couple of conspiracy theorists, don’t we?” Easton said.
“Yes, we do. I don’t know what is going on here but I do know you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. If your father is hell-bent on believing that Lucan is offering salvation, there isn’t anything you can do.”
“You’re right, but I’ve got to give it one more try.” Easton headed for the adjoining bath. “I’m going to take a shower and then I’m going to get on my computer and do some more research.”
“Into what?”
“The companies that Tazewell Global invested in during the past year, the ones that suddenly seem to be bleeding cash.”
“What are you going to look for?”
“I have no idea. But something doesn’t feel right about any of this.”
Rebecca gave a soft cry, moved forward and wrapped her arms around him. She pressed her face against his chest.
“Thank you,” she said. “Maybe I’m wrong about Lucan. Maybe it’s just my imagination. But I can’t help it. He scares me.”
Easton folded her close. “Regardless of what I find online and regardless of how my conversation with the Old Man goes, we’re flying home to Seattle this afternoon.”
Rebecca raised her head. “Because your half brother scares me?”
“Yes.” Easton smoothed a few strands of hair out of her eyes. “And also because something you said a few minutes ago is starting to worry me.”
“What?”
“You said that Lucan is a very good salesman.”
“Well, given his business talents, that’s not exactly a shock. Your father is an excellent salesman, too. How else do you get investors to put up millions of dollars on speculative purchases?”
“It occurs to me that Lucan might be more than just a great salesman.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What if this whole thing is a setup? What if the Old Man is being conned by an expert?”
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