More Than Great Riches (15 page)

Leif took the lead. We need to start with a question. Do you know what happened to your
car?

Jeff looked puzzled. Sure, I loaned it to a friend, an old army buddy. I figured it would
just be sitting in the parking lot for three months, and he needed wheels. Is something
wrong?

Jeff, your friend was in an accident. Leif broke the news gently. He’s in the burn center
at Mass. General. Your car was totaled.

Ron Carter? Jeff stiffened as though he had suffered a heavy blow. Is he all right?

Tracy fought back tears. She had to add to Jeff’s pain. Your friend was horribly burned.
All this time we thought it was you lying there. We went in to the hospital every week,
just praying that you would make it.

Every week! When did this happen?

Monday, the day after we checked you in here, Leif explained. When I heard about the
accident, I figured you had given up and left the program.

Jeff gave them a sad smile. No, you and Rev. Jim are powerful prayers. You prayed me in
here to stay.

Leif frowned. I’m surprised no one here saw the article about the accident in the
newspaper.

I remember now, Jeff said. Someone told me about the article, but the newspaper spelled
the name Dickson. The guys were kidding me about the similarities in the name, but nobody
made the connection.

Your friend’s identification was burned, along with his clothes. The state police assumed
you were the driver.

But, why didn’t Ron tell them? Jeff looked thoroughly baffled.

Tracy took up the story. They’re keeping him in a drug-induced coma until the burns heal.
They are so painful.

Jeff’s face was lined with worry. Is Ron going to live through this?

Tracy forced a cheerful note. The doctor is very encouraged. The skin grafts are adhering.

But he’s going to be hospitalized for a long, long time, Leif added.

Poor Ron. Jeff shook his head sadly. He’s the original hard luck kid. When I came back
from Iraq, we shared a room at Walter Reid. Don’t you remember him, Tracy?

Tracy nodded, picturing Jeff’s hospital roommate. He always looked so sad.

Jeff continued with his story. Ron lost a foot and I was missing half my leg, so we did a
lot of commiserating. We got to be really close friends, but after he was discharged from
the hospital, we lost touch.

Tracy saw that Jeff was close to tears.

I was surprised to run into him when I checked in here. He was living on the streets when
the court ordered him into the program. The day I arrived here, he had done his time and
was being released. But he had nowhere to go but back on the streets. No home, no job, no
nothing. I gave him the keys to my car and the names of some people who might be able to
help him get off the ground. And then this happened.

Tracy clasped Jeff’s hand. I know I’m being selfish, but I’m so glad it wasn’t you under
all those bandages. We’ll keep praying for Ron, and we’ll find a way to help him when he
gets out of the hospital.

We’ll have to let the doctors know who he is, Leif put in. They’re still trying to learn
his identity.

Jeff, why didn’t you tell me you were going into the program? If it weren’t for Leif, I
wouldn’t have known where to find you. Tracy tried not to sound upset that no one had let
her know what was going on.

I sent you an e-mail, Jeff insisted, on that Sunday just before I left home. Didn’t you
get it?

Tracy blushed. Sunday, she thought. That was the day she had spent in the charming company
of NYPD Detective Diaz, but she didn’t want to worry Jeff with that information. E-mail
had been the farthest thing from her mind that day. The message was probably still sitting
in the in-box in her roommate’s computer. Tracy hadn’t read a message since then. I guess
I missed it.

So, how’s Mom doing? And Aunt Grace? Jeff asked.

Tracy slapped a hand to her forehead to joggle her memory. Oh, my goodness. I have to call
Mom. She’ll be thrilled out of her mind. She’s been so worried about you, but she couldn’t
leave Aunt Grace. But Mom’s doing well, and Aunt Grace is recovering from her surgery.

An officious woman in a business suit put her head in the door and pointed at the clock.
Tracy didn’t want to believe that their time was up already. She could sit and just stare
at Jeff for hours, trying to convince herself this was all real.

 I guess we have to leave now, Leif said.

They were all reluctant to say goodbye. Leif shook Jeff’s hand again and gave him a long
brotherly hug.

 Tracy stood on tiptoe to kiss Jeff’s cheek. I’m so proud of you, big brother, she
whispered. I can’t wait until you’re home again.

Jeff smiled broadly. I’m proud of me too. I’m thinking of joining the human race again.

As Leif took Tracy’s hand, Jeff raised a questioning eyebrow. Hey, is there something
going on with you two?

Tracy felt a flutter of joy when Leif winked at Jeff and waved goodbye with crossed
fingers. She tried to remember why she was never going to speak to Leif again.

 Leif eased off on the accelerator as he passed Tracy’s house. Her car was not in the
driveway. He groaned. Worry nagged at him whenever she was out of his sight. He prayed
that wherever she was, there were crowds of people.

Normally he didn’t drive patrol, but he was becoming more and more uneasy about Tracy’s
safety. It had been almost a week since Timmons tried to break into her car. Leif checked
the tapes faithfully at least twice a day, but the back seat cushion had not been moved.

Timmons was bound to make another move soon. Years of detective work taught Leif patience,
but this cat and mouse game played havoc with his nervous system.

And he was beginning to doubt his sanity. He must have been out of his mind to come up
with this harebrained scheme to trap Timmons. The man was vicious. He needed to be locked
away for eternity plus fifty years, but it wasn’t worth putting Tracy’s life on the line
on the slim chance they could catch him in the act.

Why did she have to live at the far end of nowhere? How could he protect her twenty-four
hours a day without making her a prisoner?

Marry her.
The thought startled him so much he almost veered off the road. Marry Tracy! He really
was out of his mind. But the more he thought about it, the more appealing the idea became.
That lady had become a permanent fixture in his dreams.

There was just one big catch. How did Tracy feel about him? They had been through more
than their quota of trauma over the past six weeks—supporting each other, crying together,
laughing together. He held her in his arms in sorrow and in joy. And they shared a few
much too brief kisses.

But Tracy had no faith in men. She had been betrayed by every man who was important to
her, starting with her father when she was just a kid. And he let her down too—refusing to
accept guardianship of Jeff, failing to tell her about Jeff’s rehab program, pretending
there was nothing special between them. He tried to explain his reasoning to Tracy, but
did she believe him?

He would table the idea of marriage until he won her trust, but he wouldn’t give up.

He sorted through the possible courses of action. It seemed that the only way to protect
her now would be to make the news public that the jewelry had been found. When that hit
the headlines, Timmons would give up the hunt and disappear. He would literally get away
with murder, but Tracy would be safe.

Leif rolled into the parking lot behind the station and sat staring through the
windshield, his brain churning. Announcing the find would create another problem. When the
news came out that the jewelry had been recovered, Tracy would be in more trouble.
Detective Diaz would be convinced that she was Timmons’s accomplice—that Rick hadn’t come
back to look for the jewelry again because Tracy warned him away. Diaz wouldn’t waste any
time getting a warrant for her arrest.

Leif was snared in a Catch 22. With a choice between bad and worse, the important thing
was what was best for Tracy.

Three more days, he decided. He’d give their plan three more days. If Timmons didn’t make
a move, Leif would phone Diaz and tell him to release the news to the media. And then Leif
would fight the whole New York Police Department to convince them that Tracy was innocent.

 
****

The Fisherman’s Landing was busier than ever on a Friday night. The Landing was always a
popular spot, not only for the fabulous seafood, but for the ambiance. The décor captured
the lure of the ocean—fish nets and bobbins, starfish and conch shells, scrimshaw and
antiques, and sailboats in bottles. There were even authentic relics of the old sailing
ships, including a genuine figurehead.

All Tracy’s tables were full and she was running a marathon trying to keep up with the
orders. But the tips were good and her financial situation looked brighter with every
order she served. And better still, tourist season hadn’t even started.

She was grateful to have her car again, but it came with problems attached—number one,
staying on constant alert for another visit from Rick Timmons, and number two, paying off
the debt for repairs to the tune of $1800.

And there was something else, although she hated to admit it. She missed the time she and
Leif spent alone in the confines of his SUV. Through all their ups and downs, they
developed a bond that seemed to be growing into so much more. Of course, she still saw him
at church and at choir rehearsals, but they were always surrounded by a crowd. Leif tried
to explain why he needed to act distant and aloof. He was sure that Detective Diaz would
be suspicious of Leif’s faith in her if the detective thought they were more than friends.

But maybe that wasn’t the real reason they saw so little of each other now. Leif was
probably relieved to give up his part-time job as chauffeur. She had certainly taken up
more than her share of his time. And yet, the day they visited Jeff at the rehab center,
they had been closer than ever. She treasured the memory of being crushed in Leif’s
powerful arms as he whirled her around the front yard. But that was a special occasion.
Maybe she was making too much of that one exhilarating day.

As the evening wore on, the crowd began to thin out and Tracy took a moment to catch her
breath. She stood near the planter box where her guests were able to signal if they needed
her. And then that eerie feeling came over her again. The goose bumps were back. Someone
was watching her.

Walking slowly among her tables, she refilled water glasses and checked her customer’s
needs while she made a quick survey of the dining room. No one appeared to be blatantly
staring at her. Diners tended to pay more attention to their food and their companions
than their waitresses until they needed something.

She wanted to blame her uneasiness on an overactive imagination, but she remembered the
old adage—maybe you’re paranoid, but that doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.

A tall, well-dressed man talking to the headwaiter caught her attention. As she looked in
his direction, he gave her a furtive glance from the corner of his eye. She felt a flutter
of fear. She didn’t recognize the man—jet black hair, a closely trimmed dark beard and
mustache that framed his mouth, horn-rimmed glasses. She forced herself to look away,
continuing to check on her tables. But something about the man set off alarms in her head.

She couldn’t come up with a good excuse to interrupt the maitre d’s conversation, but if
she paid a visit to the ladies room, she would pass closely behind them. Putting on an air
of nonchalance, she moved casually in that direction, pretending to be unaware of the two
men.

The headwaiter was speaking. If you’ll call customer relations tomorrow afternoon, they’ll
be happy to help you make arrangements for your party, Mr. Johnson.

Thank you, the man responded. You’ve been very helpful.

Tracy almost skidded to a stop. She knew that voice. It haunted her nightmares since the
night of the theft. He had completely altered his appearance, but she would recognize that
voice anywhere. Rick Timmons.

She forced herself to keep walking toward the restroom, groping for the cell phone in her
pocket. Ducking around the corner, she punched the speed dial and whispered a prayer.
Please be there, Leif.

Chief Ericson. That reassuring voice.

Leif, she spoke just above a whisper. He’s here. Rick Timmons is here in the restaurant.
He’s not at a table. He’s just talking to the headwaiter. I don’t think he knows that I
recognized him. But why would he take a chance and come inside?

He’s checking to be sure you’re going to be tied up for a while. Hold tight. I’m on my way.

Tracy peered cautiously around the corner. Oh, no. He’s starting to leave.

Don’t cut off the phone, Leif cautioned. Keep the line open.

I’m going to watch and see what he does now.

Don’t let him see you! Leif was almost shouting.

As Timmons strolled out the door, Tracy darted up to the maitre d’. I’m sorry, Mr.
LeBlanc. I have an emergency. I have to leave—right now.

Unlike most headwaiters, LeBlanc tried to accommodate the employees. He glanced quickly
around the dining room. It’s slow now. I’ll tell Trisha to cover your tables.

Thanks so much, she gasped. I’ll be here on time tomorrow.

Her purse was in her car, but her keys were in her pocket. Still clutching her phone, she
opened the front door a crack and peered out into the parking area. The lot was well
lighted, but she didn’t detect any movement. A laughing couple appeared. She strained to
see them, but no, the man was short and stubby. It wasn’t Timmons. The twosome located
their car and drove away.

Hello, Tracy, she berated herself. Her car wasn’t in the front lot. She parked it in the
employees’ area around on the side. Treading as quietly as possible, crouching close to
the evergreen shrubs that lined the front of the restaurant, she made her way to the
corner of the building. Forgetting to breathe, she put her head out just far enough to see
her old Ford.

The dome light inside the car was lighted. Timmons had managed to open a door. Quickly she
drew back. Leif, she whispered, he’s inside my car.

Tracy, for the Lord’s sake, be careful. I’ll be there in three minutes.

Tracy heard the slam of a car door and then the sound of heavy footsteps coming toward
her. She plunged into the shrubbery, huddling in the shadows, hoping the glare of the neon
sign wouldn’t reveal her hiding place.

Timmons stormed across the parking lot. He had to be furious to discover that the little
leather case was missing. He climbed into a low-slung sports car and slammed the door with
the force of an explosion. Leif, he’s driving away. I’m going to follow him.

No, Tracy, stop. Don’t try that. He’ll recognize your car. He’s already facing a murder
charge. He’s got nothing to lose if he attacks you.

But I can’t let him get away. She raced toward her car. Leif, he’s leaving—south on Route
28. Driving a black sports car—a Porsche.

I’ll try to intercept him before he gets to Wareham. You stay put. Do you hear me? Stay
where you are.

 Disregarding Leif’s warnings, Tracy leaped into her old Ford. She revved the engine and
roared out of the parking lot, pushing the car to the limit. She gradually caught up with
the Porsche.
Don’t get so close that he can see you.
She eased off on the accelerator, hanging back, keeping her focus on those distinctive
taillights.

Another car pulled onto the highway ahead of her. Her pulse shifted into high gear. It
would be trickier to tail Timmons with another vehicle between them, but the other car
would serve as a screen. She would not let herself lose him. He was pushing the speed
limit, but he wasn’t careening wildly as though he were trying to make a getaway. He
didn’t know he was being followed.

And then the Porsche made a turn. Leif, he’s turning east at the Sunoco station.

Tracy, I told you not to follow him. Break off. Break off.

I can’t, she pleaded.
Leif doesn’t understand
. Her future hung on winning this battle.

The car that had squeezed between them turned off. If Rick looked in his rearview mirror,
he couldn’t miss seeing her now. She dropped back a little further. The Porsche made
another turn.

He’s turned into a motel, The Clamdigger, she croaked.

Don’t stop, Leif shouted. Keep driving past the motel. Go ahead to that ice cream stand
about two hundred yards down the road. Wait for me inside. I’m almost there, but he’s out
of my jurisdiction. I’ll have to call in the sheriff.

As Tracy drove past the motel, the lights on the Porsche went out. The flashing neon motel
sign gave her a quick glimpse of Timmons climbing out of his car. Had he noticed her old
Ford creeping by?

Approaching the ice cream stand, she felt a stab of fear. The store was already closed,
the parking area dark and empty. No refuge inside.

Clenching the steering wheel, she pulled in close to the building and turned off the
headlights. She didn’t know what a heart attack felt like, but she suspected she was about
to find out. Peering out into the darkness, she counted the minutes. Hurry, Leif, hurry.
Don’t let him escape.

 
****

Leif prayed for all he was worth as he raced toward the motel. He should have stayed on
the main road. It was impossible to get up any speed on the winding back-country roads. He
had radioed the sheriff’s office and deputies were on the way, but Tracy was in danger.

The little fool. What if that murderer knew she was tailing him? Stopping at that motel
could be a ruse. Timmons might have backed right out again the minute she passed and
turned back the way he came to make his escape. Or, much worse, he could be continuing
down the road, hunting for Tracy’s Ford.

His adrenaline pumped like accelerant on a fire. In his years as a police officer there
were times he had feared for his own life. But that fear was nothing compared to the
terror that raged through him now. Tracy was out there alone with no way to defend
herself. He’d give his life for her in a heartbeat.

He felt his heart leap into his throat when he realized the ice cream stand was closed.
There was no one in sight. His heart sank slowly into place again as he glimpsed Tracy’s
car in the shadows. He swerved into the parking lot and skidded to a stop.

Plunging out of the SUV, he raced toward her car. She opened the door and fell into his
arms. He wrapped her in a bear hug, clutching her tightly against his heart. If he didn’t
ease off, he’d probably crack one of her ribs. But he couldn’t let go. As long as he held
onto her, he knew she was safe. Tracy, he breathed, you scared the life out of me.

But she didn’t seem to be afraid for herself. Aren’t you going to arrest him? she mumbled
into his chest.

He groaned. I can’t, sweetheart. I’m out of my jurisdiction. The deputies will be here in
a few minutes.