Half Past Dead (27 page)

At the time she'd assured herself that she'd chosen the best course. She'd been convinced she didn't have the knowledge or the money to help Kat. But had she been honest? Not really. If she'd put up a fight, at the very least, Kat might have been assigned a more competent public defender.
Don't go there,
Tori warned herself. There had been hard evidence against Kat. Getting mixed up in her problems wouldn't have helped.

“I went to work in Dr. Cassidy's office, keeping patient records and filing,” her mother continued, “but I was barely earning enough to get by. I had no choice but to look around for another husband while I was still young and pretty.”

“Without getting a divorce? What if Daddy returned?”

Her mother let out a derisive snicker. “I'm not dumb. I scraped together enough money to hire a private investigator in Jackson. Seems your daddy only made it as far as Panama City Beach before hopping in the sack with another woman. They claimed to be married.”

Dazed, Tori attempted to compare the various images of her father that she'd culled from the few pictures her mother had of a handsome young man with a wide smile and twinkling eyes. She'd always thought of him as loving and supportive, a man who would be with her every moment he had to spare.

A father like…like Parker Wells.

She'd never envied Kat. Actually, she'd felt superior to her sister because she had a mother and a father who doted on her. True, her father was dead, but she'd basked in his love just the same. Tori had always assumed her father would have been exactly like Parker.

If only he'd lived.

The opposite had been true, she realized with a wild flash of grief.

As if reading her thoughts, her mother said softly, “You had me. I loved you more than I should have to make up for the loss of your father.”

“I'd like to—” Tori stopped herself before she asked how to contact her father. It could wait, she decided, until her mother was gone. What would be the point in hurting her by letting her know how much Tori had dreamed about her father? How much it now hurt to know he had been living a few hours away and had made no attempt to see her in all these years.

Again seeing through to her soul, her mother said, “Your father died 'bout eight years ago. Lung cancer. He'd been a chain smoker. No one—not even his new woman—could convince him to give it up.”

Tori stared out the window, her heart unable to accept what she'd just heard. Her world was shutting down like a curtain falling after the final act. The play was over. Life as she knew it was over.

For a fleeting second she wondered if this was how Kat had felt when she'd been alone in jail. She let the thought go as quickly as it had come. This was different; Tori's life was special. She'd made something of herself. Nothing could take that away from her.

She'd been a winner from the day she was born. Kat was—and always would be—a loser. Kat had suffered—she'd grant her that much—but if she'd had character she would have been more like Tori.

“I wanted to protect you,” her mother added. “I didn't consult a lawyer—least of all the Kincaids—and have to explain why I didn't want to write a will.”

Tori didn't get it. “Why not?”

“I was afraid someone might find out that I had inherited Parker Wells' money illegally. Your father and I never divorced. As his next of kin, Kat should have inherited everything her father had.”

“Why didn't you divorce him when you found out the skank was living with another woman?”

Her mother shrugged as if it didn't really matter. “Parker came along before I had time to scrounge up enough money to go to Florida and get a divorce.”

Now Tori understood. “You'd said Daddy wasn't alive. You couldn't file for divorce here without everyone knowing you'd lied.”

Her mother's mouth quirked as if a bolt of pain had lanced through her. A moment later, she said, “I didn't want to ruin your chances with folks like the Kincaids.” She slumped back against the pillows. “Right away Parker was smitten with me…”

And you saw a meal ticket,
Tori silently added.

“I never wanted another child. Kat just happened. I didn't love her.” She managed a low snicker. “I didn't have to. Her daddy loved her enough for both of us.”

The way you loved me.

“Now you can marry Clay and take your rightful place in society like I've always known you would.”

K
AT LEANED
against Justin's sturdy shoulder and gazed out at the gathering dusk casting an amber glow across the yard. Lola Rae had dropped Kat off after a long, hot afternoon on an amateur stakeout of the fallen tree. Justin had been home waiting for her, Redd and Max at his side. The relief on his face told her just how worried he'd been.

When was the last time anyone had been concerned about her?

Images of her father sprang into her mind. The look on his face as she rode her bike up the drive for the first time without training wheels. His puckered brow as she'd competed in a spelling bee, which she'd ultimately won. His attempts to control a grimace as Tori had swanned out the door with Clay on prom night, when they both knew Kat wouldn't have a date when her own prom rolled around.

It had been years ago, yet the memories triggered a bittersweet ache. What would her father say if he could see her now? She wasn't a shy, ugly duckling any longer. She knew he would be proud of her—despite the years she'd spent in prison.

“Okay,” Justin said, his warm breath fanning her cheek. “Give me the details. What I heard over our cell phones was garbled. I could tell you weren't in trouble but the signal kept cutting out.”

She'd already explained she'd seen the money being picked up, but she went over the story again, taking care to give him every fact she could recall. “After we arrived on the motorcycle Lola Rae's brother loaned us, we hid it in the underbrush and walked over to the old log.”

“Good thinking.” He gazed down at the area rug where Max and Redd were snoozing.

“Several other packets had been placed on top of the one Lola Rae had seen Gary Don leave.”

“Lola Rae must have realized this wasn't about another woman.”

“Of course. We talked it over. She believes Gary Don must be dealing drugs. She doesn't want anything to do with him. She's terrified she'll end up in jail.”

“Did she know he'd already served time?”

“Yes.” Kat looked up at him and tried for a mischievous smile. “I gave her the whole spiel about the rate of recidivism that you dished out at me. She promised not to tell anyone about this. She doesn't want to be involved.”

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “Finish telling me about the pickup.”

“The sun was dropping behind the trees, but it was still hotter than Hades. Swarms of mosquitoes were eating us alive. We were about to leave.” Her body was still hot and sticky despite the swamp cooler blowing right on her. “We'd been so sure the money would be picked up during the day that we hadn't bothered to bring flashlights. We knew it would be useless to stay after dark.

“That's when Lola Rae heard a motor. She thought it was a dirt chopper like the motorcycle her brother had loaned us. I noticed a chugging sound, and I knew it must be a motorboat.”

“The levee meets the river not far from there, but the inlet is choked with kudzu,” Justin interjected.

“Did you know exactly where we were?”

Justin's smile seemed a tad guilty. “I planted a mini-GPS transmitter the size of a button in your shoe—just in case.”

“Without telling me?” Sometimes she didn't understand him. It would have been comforting to know the device was there.

“People act differently if they don't realize they have a fallback.”

“I see,” she replied slowly. He came from a different world, where drug busts were an everyday occurrence. In some ways she'd been through hell, but this was her first brush with the dark underworld of drug dealing.

“Go on,” he prompted.

“A guy neither of us recognized tromped up the trail. He made no attempt to conceal himself or to stay quiet.”

“Young? Old? How tall? What did he weigh?”

“It was a little too shadowy to say for sure, but I thought he was in his late twenties. Average height. About one-eighty. He was dressed in beige slacks and a navy polo shirt. A little dressed-up for the backwoods. He must have come from work somewhere.”

“A navy blue polo. Did it have the casino's logo above the pocket?”

Kat shrugged. “Possibly, but neither of us got a close enough look. He knew exactly where to go. He marched up to the old log, loaded the packets into a backpack, and was out of there in less than a minute.”

“He's done this before. Lots of times.”

“Probably. I listened carefully when he started the motor. The engine wasn't more than fifty horses. I know because my father fished. Bigger engines have a deeper rumble.” She didn't add how much her father had wanted a larger motor for his small skiff, but insisted on banking the money for “his girls' education.”

“Figures,” Justin replied with a thoughtful nod. “Meth generates lots of cash in small bills. New York, Chicago, L.A.—every major city you can name and authorities have found money stashed away, waiting to be picked up. Sometimes it's left so long the bills are mildewed. Boxes have been found in storage units when people fail to pay the rent. There's so much cash floating around that people forget or lose track of it.”

“Amazing.” She thought of how little money she had. It was difficult to imagine allowing a dollar to get away from her.

“Someone working a double-blind operation doesn't want anyone to know who he is. So how is the cash counted without a lot of workers?”

Kat considered his question for just a second. “They must have machines at the casino to automatically count money and slot machine change, right?”

“Hey,” he said with a teasing smile, “you're smarter than the average blonde.”

“Ya think?”

“Absolutely.” His expression turned serious. “There's nothing average about you.”

She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “You think there really is mob money behind the riverboat? Are they pushing drugs, too?”

“Gambling has always been tainted by the mob. The Sartiano family operates out of New Orleans. They control the riverboats there but not with a heavy hand. Gambling is regulated by the state. Getting around their accounting procedures is tough but not impossible.”

“You're saying the mob wouldn't funnel a lot more cash into the casino and make the state auditors suspicious.”

“Exactly. The take from every table, every slot machine is recorded, then checked in and placed in steel cases with a special lock.”

Kat thought a moment. “Couldn't the supply boat that delivers goods take the drug money back to New Orleans to avoid state inspectors? Remember, we thought the supply boats might be delivering the supplies needed to make meth.”

“It's possible, but I have the feeling the ringleader wouldn't want to involve that many people. Crews on small service boats change overnight. Having those boats transport cash would mean letting more and more people in on the secret. Our guy doesn't operate that way.”

“Guy? Why not a woman?”

“A woman could be involved,” he conceded, “but this is still the South. Guys rule.”

“Get out!”

He smiled, then compressed his lips. “Sad but true. A woman may be involved, but she wouldn't deal directly with the Sartianos. They're Italians from Chicago who intermarried with a Cajun family living outside of New Orleans. It's a male-dominated society. I suspect the drug money is processed through the counting machines at the riverboat to quickly and accurately tally the cash. I'll bet the Sartianos take a cut, then turn over the rest of the money to someone locally.”

“What happens to the money then?”

He gazed off across the room for a moment, then said, “Good question.”

Kat couldn't imagine how the drug operation might be connected to her—except through the bank. She verbalized her hunch. “It goes through the bank somehow.”

“That's my guess, but it's just speculation. Question is: Why did Bitner ask to meet you? I can't see him telling you about the operation.”

Kat had no idea either—unless it was somehow tied to the undercover operation the Feds had going. She was tempted to tell Justin, but decided to wait until David returned. With luck, he would know more about what had gone on with the bank examiners. It might explain what had happened without her having to go back on her word and tell anyone why she was here.

His thumb gently kneaded the back of her neck. “Let's go to Jo'Mama's for ribs. I think we've done all we can for one day.”

She tried to resist the urge to melt into his arms. “What about having a deputy stake out the log?”

“I don't have the manpower. Even if I did, I don't know who to trust. This is a small town. I don't want word getting back to the ringleader that I'm onto this. Besides, I seriously doubt if they leave money more than once a week. We have time.”

How much time did she have?
Don't think about it. Live in the moment.
She shifted positions, pulled his head toward her, and crushed his lips with a kiss.

He returned the kiss, one hand creeping up her leg and caressing the tender flesh of her thigh. She fumbled with the buttons on his shirt as his mouth opened and their tongues met. She finally managed to wedge her hand under his shirt and stroke his bare chest. A low growl rumbled from his throat.

“Hey, if you're not careful, we won't get to Jo'Mama's.”

“Ask me if I care.”

He chuckled, then began to kiss her neck and the sensitive spot behind her ear. She threw back her head and allowed him access to her breasts. He palmed her through the fabric of her blouse, the normally soft material abrading her sensitive nipples. Her legs weakened and parted as a low moan became a sensuous purr.

Before she knew what was happening, he swept her into his arms and with long, purposeful strides crossed the living room. This time he took her down the hall into his room and kicked the door shut with his foot before the dogs could follow them.

He gently laid her on top of the covers as if she might break. Stretching out beside her, he kissed her slowly, his fingers tunneling though her tousled hair. She arched her back and snuggled closer. Before she knew it, he had her blouse undone and her bra unhooked.

They kissed. And touched. And caressed. By silent agreement they took time to explore each other's bodies.

This was how a man and a woman made love. It wasn't just about sex, she told herself. This was so much more…fulfilling.

She'd fallen hopelessly in love with him. She'd realized this yesterday, but now knew with absolute certainty this man was the love of her life. How could she love him and not tell him the truth about why she'd been sent here? Hiding this secret seemed almost like cheating, like being with another man behind Justin's back.

 

“T
HERE'S A MESSAGE
for you,” Connie informed Kat when she walked into the office the following morning with Max in tow. She thought it might be from David. He hadn't called last night, and she wondered if he'd found out anything from the bank examiner's daughter at Duke.

“Thanks,” Kat replied as she tried to ignore the flush rising up her neck to her cheeks. She was positive the copy editor had seen Justin drop her off and knew just how they'd spent last night.

Connie hovered nearby. “Your sister left a message on the machine just before the paper opened. I guess she didn't know how to get a hold of you.”

Kat stared down at the slip of paper Connie had given her. What did Tori want? She guided Max into David's office and let him settle under his desk before she used David's telephone to return the call. Whatever Tori wanted, Kat didn't need Connie to overhear her conversation.

Kat waited while Tori's cell phone rang several times. She was getting ready to hang up when Tori answered. “Tori? It's me. Kat.”

A muffled noise followed as if Tori had put her hand over the phone. A moment later, she said, “It's Ma.” Tori's voice cracked and the rest came out with a sob. “She went to glory last night. I'm at Gaylord's Funeral Home. You need to come right away.”

Without another word, the line went dead. Kat collapsed into David's chair. How could her mother have died so suddenly? Not that it hadn't been expected, Tori had warned her, but Kat hadn't had the opportunity to see her mother and set things straight. Had she?

Some dark corner of her brain wondered. She'd been so convinced her mother's death was imminent—was it possible she had visited her mother but didn't remember?

A wellspring of guilt rushed through her. Instead of spending last night in bed with Justin, she should have gone to see her mother. Her father used to say “you never have a second chance to make a first impression.” Now she could add “you never have a second chance to say goodbye.”