Double Cross (23 page)

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 appearances 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.

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. FRIDAY

“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.”

Her insides tossed. Believing him was an impossibility. No future in it. “Do you feel different?”

He sighed and traced the rim of his coffee cup, an old habit. “It’s easier to give up the anger and the entitlement cravings. Every day is a new one, and it’s usually another vice for me to put away, overcome. Lots of guilt. Even more regret. Sometimes my thinking reverts to the old Morton, but not to the point of before. I call those poison thoughts.”

Those in-between times were what bothered Laurel. “I’m not a believer, and I’m not totally convinced you are either.”

He smiled. “You’re right. No reason to believe me. Got to see it for yourself. I admire your tenacity, Laurel.”

She glanced away, looking for an excuse to leave, but every conversation brought her closer to the needed evidence.

“Laurel, are you having a hard time finding my angle?”

“Mildly put.”

“Quit looking. It’s a situation between me and the Lord. Right now we need to find the proof before the fund-raiser.” He sobered.

“What did Cayden mean by ‘explosion’?”

“I hope he meant how the scam would affect the FBI.” He
waved at the reporter snapping photos. “Four hundred hand-selected guests, known for their generosity to causes like this. They’ll be tossing plastic like beads at Mardi Gras. And that doesn’t include kitchen staff and servers. If he means a real explosion, the body count would be horrendous.”

She swallowed hard. “You’ll probe him about it?”

“For sure.” He shook his head. “If he’s planning to bomb the event, then the fund-raiser has to be cancelled. But I really think Cayden is in this for the money. No reason to cause mass chaos or an international manhunt.”

She stared at him, wishing for telepathic abilities. “We have to find out. Isn’t Cayden coming by your place tomorrow?”

“It’s on the calendar. Daniel will be there, but Cayden won’t like it. Might bring his own bodyguard. Did you receive the list of the fund-raiser guests?”

“Yes. Thanks. Surprised Cayden handed it over.”

“I needed confirmation of the potential income. What did you make of it?”

“Some of the names are impressive. I forwarded it on to SSA Preston.”

“So did I.” He summoned the server for the check. “Laurel, there’ve been bad times between us. All my fault. The old Morton Wilmington would have gotten even, and you know it. And he’d have covered his tracks. I don’t want to lose my freedom, but my biggest reason for helping the FBI was to prove my credibility to you and fulfill my vow to God.”

“What?” She clenched her fist in her lap. “I don’t understand.”

“I want you to find God and hold on as tightly as you can.”

“I have no reason to trust you.”

“Rough edges can be filed down.”

“Metaphorically speaking?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

An alert on her phone prompted her.

Josie Fields’s body was found in a wooded rural area east of the Woodlands. Died of bullet wounds.

Laurel shook her head. The woman hadn’t walked into those woods.