Miranda Vaughn Mystery 01.00 - Chasing the Dollar (24 page)

"
It was the nearest airport and it got us off the roads. They were looking for us on the highway," I said.

"
How did we get there?"

"
By boat."

He leaned back on the pillows and stared at me.
"By boat? Did you steal a boat?"

I laughed and shook my head.
"I rented it."

"
With what?"

"
I had withdrawn some cash at the bank. I thought it might help us, you know, if things went bad and we couldn't use credit cards," I said.

"
Miranda applied direct pressure to your wound, stemming the blood loss, for the entire trip to San Pedro. There was a paramedic on the plane, but she probably saved your life."

My skin prickled as Jake looked at me. I didn
't like getting praise for doing the right thing, especially from Donna. Her voice indicated she was maybe a little shocked that I'd not left Jake to die, given my past. Plus, the whole mess was on my head anyway. I shouldn't get the praise without the blame, too.

"
I'm just glad you're going to be all right," I said, finally finding my voice.

"
What happened to Jenkins? Dylan?" Jake asked.

Donna filled him in while I stood next to Jake, still gripping his hand.

"I got word an hour ago that a body washed ashore and authorities in Belize believe it's Katrina Lore," Donna said. "It looks like she was shot and dumped offshore."

I expelled a long breath. I hadn
't wanted to believe that Dylan had actually killed Katrina, even though he had admitted it to me.

"
What about Bill Macias?" Jake asked.

Donna shook her head.
"Nothing yet about your brother-in-law, but they're still looking."

"
The accounts? Were you able to get any more information from Jenkins?"

"
Yeah, some. He's going to cooperate, try and get a better deal. Dylan's not talking," Donna said. "But I'm hopeful that with Miranda's help, we'll be able to reconstruct the evidence and build a case against him that will convince him otherwise. Or at least convict him at trial."

Jake squeezed my hand, and I looked down at him. His face was still pale, but a more natural color than when we were on the fishing boat. His hair was disheveled. My instincts were to reach up and smooth it, but I kept my hand in his.

"Did she tell you that she's good with numbers?" He smiled weakly, and my heart skipped.

"
Uh, no, but I'm not surprised," Donna said. "We were able to find a number of accounts, which we've frozen. The funds that were transferred will go to repay the Sahara Fund investors, as we agreed. The rest will be held until the outcome of the case."

The prosecutor let out a long sigh and looked between me and Jake.

"I just want to thank both of you, but especially you, Miranda. You certainly didn't have to help the government, but we couldn't have gotten Jenkins and Holland into custody without your help."

I nodded.
"I just wanted to clear my name and help those investors harmed by Ralph and Tim."

Donna nodded.
"I'm going to leave you two alone now. See you back in California."

She started toward the hall, paused, and turned back.

"I know you two have been through a lot in the past week, but I do need to ask you both to not discuss the case with each other. We've taken Miranda's statement, but I imagine we'll have more questions. And I'll need to get your statement, Jake. Then I imagine you'll both be key witnesses against Holland and the others. I may not be the one prosecuting it, but I really don't want this case to be compromised."

Jake nodded.
"Of course."

Her gaze moved to me, a hesitant expression on her face.
"And I hate to be so personal, but are you two, uh, involved? I mean, romantically."

"
No," Jake said. His voice seemed suddenly stronger, and my stomach plummeted at his terse response.

I pulled my hand from his and tried to keep a poker face. We weren
't involved. We'd shared a couple of kisses. I'd tried to throw myself at him, and we got interrupted, and then I nearly got him killed. That was no one's definition of romance.

So why did my heart crumble at the sound of his quick denial?

Donna left, and Jake reached up for my hand again. He leaned back on the pillow, his expression relaxed and his eyes starting to droop.

"
I think my nurse doped me up again." His voice slowed, and his eyes were starting to glaze over.

As much as I wanted to hang on to him, I gave his hand a slight squeeze and pulled away.

"I should let you get some rest," I said.

His eyes closed, his breathing deepened, and I thought he was sleeping.

"When are you going home?" he asked. He opened his eyes, but it looked like it took effort.

"
I have a flight out in a couple hours," I said. As comforting as it sounded to be going home, I wasn't looking forward to facing Aunt Marie. When I called and told her where I was and gave her a brief, sanitized summary of what happened, she had promptly grounded me.

Jake nodded, and his eyes closed. His face relaxed. Whatever the nurse had given him had taken effect. I watched him for a minute, then reached out and smoothed his hair from his face, as he
'd done to me. A slight smile flickered on his lips, but he didn't wake.

This was for the best, I told myself. Once he recovered, he
'd get back to work, making sure Dylan and his coconspirators didn't get away. With some luck and Rob's forgiveness for stealing the discovery from my case, I'd go to work at the law firm and begin rebuilding my life. I might see Jake around since we were both going to be testifying at Dylan's trial. But we were not on the same path.

"
I'm sorry," I whispered to his still form. Leaning in, I kissed his forehead, his skin as hot as the tears that seeped out of my eyes.

Then I left.

Three months later

The scent of pine trees and moist soil lingered in the air after the previous night's rainstorm. Underfoot, my boots crunched on small patches of snow and ice and occasionally slid on wet leaves as I approached the steps that led up to a wide deck.

"
As you can see, the roof is new. So is the siding."

Sheila Aaron, my real estate agent, pointed to the metal roof with the copper trim and at the clapboard siding that sported a fresh coat of paint. The hand-turned railings and front door were also new. Sheila herself was new to real estate, she had told me when I called earlier that day. I chose her by her fortunate placement in the phone book that I
'd found in the hotel nightstand the night before. She had no idea that I was going to be the single easiest client she would ever have.

"
The deck was constructed about a year and a half ago, and if you know anything about Lake Tahoe permitting, you know what a miracle that was," Sheila said, brushing a few drops of water off her fleece jacket.

I ascended the few steps to enjoy the breathtaking view of pine trees, the green boughs washed clean of snow last night, and the tiny sliver of blue water that lay in the distance. With its new coat of paint and expanded deck, I almost didn
't recognize the cabin that I had sold nearly two years earlier, but the view was familiar.

"
Why are they selling it?"

Sheila sighed and shook her head.
"They were from the city. They thought it would be fun to have a cabin at Tahoe. This was affordable, so they bought it without realizing that this was an actual cabin—not a summer home on the lake within walking distance of the casinos."

She took out a ring of keys and unlocked the solid wood door.
"Anyway, the first weekend, they put their trash out in a regular trash can."

"
Oh, rookie mistake," I said, knowing what was coming.

"
Yeah. They got bears that night."

Bears could smell garbage and would tear apart anything in their way to get to it. Including cars. A trashcan posed no barrier to a black bear.

"So they had a custom-made 'bear-proof' trash receptacle built," Sheila said, making finger quotes to emphasize her disgust. She pointed toward a pile of kindling near the corner of the cabin. "There it is."

"
It's wooden."

"
It
was
wooden. Some artist in Berkeley made it out of reclaimed hardwood, and it was just lovely. The bears tore it apart in about a minute."

She opened the door and let me enter. They may not have liked rustic living, but they sure had good taste in the renovations they made to the Vaughn family cabin.

"It's empty, but it's clean," she said.

I walked in and smiled. The small kitchen now had granite counters, and the cabinet doors had been updated. The hardwood floors were the same but had been refinished, and it gave the living area a new life. The single-pane windows were gone, replaced by winter-proof storm windows. Some of them were larger, letting in more of the view of the pine trees. The rebuilt deck was accessible through the new sliding glass door.

"How's the wiring?"

"
Completely redone," Sheila said. "I doubt it had ever been updated since the cabin was built in the 1930s. But now it's up to code and shouldn't give you any troubles. There's also new insulation and new plumbing."

I walked around the small interior, taking in the changes big and small. All the things that should have been done over the years the Vaughn family had owned it and then the chores that I had always meant to do after I inherited the cabin—all of them were done. New paint. New carpet in the bedroom. A spiffed up bathroom. It was like seeing a familiar old friend who had blossomed out of her awkward phase with a complete makeover.

"The fireplace had some cracks, but it's been repaired. The chimney was cleaned when we put it on the market," Sheila said, her eyes roaming over the list in her hands. "And the new wood-burning stove is much more efficient than the old open fireplace, so you could even come up in the winter and not freeze to death."

I smiled and nodded, picturing my things in the cabin, once again. My family photos on the walls, my books on the shelves, not to mention my friends on the deck. Sarah was already planning our weekend ski trips in the winter and our summer cookouts under the trees. She said I owed her for putting her through hell when I called from
Belize, and I happily agreed. It was a debt I'd never be able to repay.

Despite everything I
'd done for the government, I wasn't getting my old life back. There was nothing the federal government could do to replace the two years spent fighting for my freedom, or the loss of my reputation and my career. But this was a start.

The last few months hadn
't been easy. Rob had negotiated a "whistleblower" reward for me. Basically, I got to keep some of the money I transferred from Patterson's illegal operation to myself. After taxes, repaying Aunt Marie for my legal fees, and the costs of my travel to Asia and Central America, I had enough left to start rebuilding my life. The money was nice, but it certainly wasn't a windfall, so I was back working at Rob's office, though this time for a small but steady salary.

Since the Sahara Fund investors got all their money back, no one seemed too upset by this. Well, maybe Dylan, Matt Reese, and Chris Jenkins would be upset, but I hadn
't heard from any of them. Matt and Chris had quickly pleaded guilty to conspiracy charges. Dylan was preparing for trial, charged with attempted murder of me and Jake, the murders of Katrina and Bill, and too many money laundering charges to count. The thought of testifying at Dylan's trial made me slightly ill, so I pushed it to the back of my mind.

Sheila left me alone in the empty cabin, and I wandered down the hall, my footsteps echoing off the bare walls. It was exactly as I
'd imagined it would be someday—cozy, rustic. After I checked the tiny bedroom, I returned to the living room and climbed the ladder to see the loft, which smelled of new carpet.

Satisfied, I found Sheila on the deck checking her email on her phone.

"So, what do you think? Is this what you had in mind? If not, I have several others that are closer to the water," she said, reaching for a folder in her giant black bag.

"
No, I'm good. I like this one. I'd like to submit an offer."

Her eyes widened and she smiled.
"That's fast, are you sure?"

I nodded.
"I'm sure."

"
Well, why don't we go back to my office, and I'll get the paperwork together for the offer," she said.

She locked the door, and I stood on the deck, my hands resting on the cool damp railing, and stared into the trees.

"I'm going to take a walk around, but I'll meet you at the office shortly," I said.

Sheila gave me a wide smile.

"Sure, take your time," she said, then practically skipped down the steps to her small SUV.

I brushed some wet pine needles from the picnic table and sat on it, my feet resting on the bench seats. It was peaceful here, just as I remembered. I
'd inherited the cabin nearly twelve years ago when my father died, and Aunt Marie and I had spent a lot of summer weekends hiking around the forest and over to a small mountain lake a few miles away. The cabin wasn't fancy, and I liked that about it. Even with all the upgrades the sellers had put into it, it was still a one-bedroom, one-bath cabin in the woods. It was a world away from everything.

And that
's where I needed to be right now—away from everything. While I liked working for Rob, much of my energy was still spent on what I considered my case. Technically, it was the case against Dylan. Because I would be testifying against him, I'd met regularly with the FBI agents and Donna Grayson. Even though Rob was always at my side during those meetings, and he assured me that I was the government's star witness, it was hard not to feel defensive when being questioned by my former prosecutor. The thought of facing Dylan in court made me ready to head for a mountain hideaway.

The sound of car wheels crunching on gravel brought me out of my thoughts, and I stood, expecting to see Sheila returning, probably to double-check my quick decision or bring me the completed contract she
'd whipped up in record-time.

Instead, a black truck pulled in behind my car and parked. The door opened and my breath caught in my throat as Jake Barnes stepped out. The sun burnished his dark hair, and when he took off his sunglasses, I could see his deep brown eyes locked on me. I exhaled slowly as he walked toward the steps to the deck.

"You're not easy to track down," he said, resting his foot on the bottom step and leaning against the handrail.

He paused there, waiting to be invited up. My heart seized at the sight of him. Though I hadn
't seen him in three months, not a day passed when I didn't think of him. I had spent so much time going over what happened, showing his FBI colleagues the trail of money transfers that had tipped me to Bill Macias's involvement, how we had followed Bill to Belize. And each time, hearing his name spoken out loud turned my insides into a tight fist of delicious tension. Ms. Grayson was adamant that I not discuss the case with other witnesses, and that would be Jake, so I hadn't attempted to reach out to him. Not that I would anyway. The guilt I felt at his injuries was overwhelming. Seeing him in front of me, I struggled to find my voice.

"
Hi," I said, showing off my stellar conversational skills. "How did you find me?"

"
Your aunt told me."

I raised an eyebrow. That didn
't sound like something Aunt Marie would do.

"
Rob Fogg vouched for me, so she told me where I might find you," he said, leaning on the railing. "How are you?"

I thought about that as I studied him. He seemed fully recovered now, strong as ever. I had suffered sunburn and a few bumps and bruises. Nothing compared to what he
'd been through.

I shrugged.
"I'm okay."

"
I heard you're working for Rob now," he said.

"
Yeah, he put me to work doing discovery review and clerical work," I said and motioned toward the deck. "You want to come up?"

I backed up as he came up the stairs, as if I didn
't dare be too close to him. The back of my legs hit the picnic table bench, and I sat down hard and tried to look like I'd done it on purpose.

Jake
's eyes crinkled at the corners, and I could tell he was suppressing a smile.

"
This is nice," he said, sitting next to me on the bench and surveying the view.

"
Thanks," I said, trying not to think about how close he was.

"
Are you buying it?" He nodded toward the freshly planted "for sale" sign.

I nodded, and he raised an eyebrow.
"I heard you got a whistleblower reward."

"
You hear a lot of things," I said. "This was my family's cabin before I sold it to pay for my defense."

He smiled, and my stomach flipped.
"Hey, I don't begrudge you the reward. You earned it."

I wondered what he got out of the experience. Other than a bullet wound.

"How are you?" I asked.

"
All healed up and back to work," he said, tilting his head and smiling at me.

I bit my lip at the memory of him, barely conscious and bleeding.
"Yeah, about that. I really need to apologize to you. I'm sorry you were hurt."

He smiled and shook his head.
"Don't worry about it. I survived."

"
No, it was my fault you got shot. Dylan was trying to shoot me. And you were only there because of me and—"

Jake turned and took my hand in his, the warmth enveloping my cold fingers and sending a zing of electricity up my spine.

"Miranda, I'm fine. I'm a law-enforcement professional. I didn't walk in blind." He squeezed my hand. "And none of this was your fault."

I didn
't believe that, but it was nice to hear. And it was nice to touch him.

"
How's your sister?"

Jake frowned and looked down at the deck.
"It was quite a shock to find out what Bill was up to, but she and the kids are doing pretty well. Lily's too young to really know what's going on. Molly told Henry that his dad died, but nothing about the circumstances."

"
Of course," I said. "Oh, damn, I just remembered. I'm not supposed to be talking to you about the case. Donna Grayson is going to kill me."

He smiled.
"She knows I'm here."

I shot him a suspicious look.
"Why are you here?"

He kept my hand in his.
"Thought you should know that Dylan has agreed to plead guilty. There's not going to be a trial."