And she hadn’t done it. She’d called from her own phone. She hoped that wouldn’t come back to bite her.
“She insists on knowing where you’re living,” Kade said. “But she didn’t reciprocate and tell you where she moved to?”
“That sums it up.”
“What did she tell you?”
Ginny stared at the drops of water sliding down the side window. Not straight down but diagonally because of the air hitting the moving car. That’s what her life felt like, headed in the wrong direction because of unseen forces beyond her control. “To do what Kathryn did.”
He turned into a neighborhood and pulled over. After putting the car into park, he faced her. “She told you to run away.”
Ginny nodded.
He pressed his lips together. “But you’re still here.”
“This is my home. This is more my home than San Francisco ever was. I have a life here.”
He squeezed her hand, then kissed her forehead. “I’m glad you’re staying.”
“You don’t think I’m stupid?”
“You can’t run for the rest of your life.”
“But what if…?” She swallowed. “I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be afraid of.”
“Let’s see if we can narrow it down. Based on what you told me, it sounds like the restaurants were involved in what your parents were doing. I have a theory, but… Why don’t you Google it, see what you can find?”
She grabbed her phone and opened the internet browser. “What do I type?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Try crime in restaurants.”
She did and scrolled through the results. “These are all about shootings and burglaries and…”
“Maybe criminal activity in restaurants.”
She typed that and scrolled again.
More about shootings and burglaries. But then there was a post that had her stopping, clicking.
How to Use a Restaurant to Launder Money.
“Oh.”
She turned the screen so he could see it, and he nodded. “That was my guess.”
“How did you know?”
“You’ve obviously never watched Ozark.”
“That’s a TV show, right?”
He smiled. “I heard it was good, so I tried it. But I don’t like shows where I’m supposed to root for bad guys.”
A good moral position. What if the bad guys were your parents, though?
She tapped on the article. It was a tongue-in-cheek how-to on money laundering through restaurants.
“What does it say?”
She perused the article quickly. “Looks like any cash business can work. They take the dirty money—”
“Like, money from drug sales or whatever, I guess.”
“Yeah, I guess,” she said. “Money a criminal can’t just put in his bank account without raising flags.”
“Okay, go on.”
“They take dirty money and filter it through the restaurant. They add it to the cash received every day, a little at a time so as not to raise alarms. They put it in the bank, then give the ‘clients’”—she put air quotes around that word—“access to it. Once it’s clean, the clients can do whatever they want to with it.”
“The criminals.”
“Right. Mobster stuff, I guess. Racketeering, extortion, protection scams.”
Kade added, “Drug dealing, arms dealing—”
“Human smuggling—getting illegals across the border.” And that prompted another thought. A thought that made her ill. But she had to face it, face who her parents really were. “Human trafficking.”
They fell silent.
“Bad stuff,” he said.
“Bad people.” She closed her eyes, tried to imagine her parents doing business with people like that.
Despite her mother’s cigarette-damaged voice and trashy language, she cleaned up well. She was a strikingly beautiful woman with dark hair and pretty light brown eyes, tall and slender. She knew how to apply makeup to make herself look classy. She was pleasant and likable—to people besides her own family members.
Ginny’s dad had grown more distinguished with age. He’d looked sharp in the suits he wore nearly every day and had more than his share of Southern charm.
Both of them had lost the drawl in their accents and developed lovely high-society Southern speech patterns that endeared them to others.
They’d been so good at wearing their masks, even Ginny had believed them.
She wished she couldn’t picture her parents with criminals and crime bosses, but she could. She could see it, and she didn’t doubt what she’d discovered for a moment.
“My parents helped the worst kinds of people get away with their crimes. They profited from it.” The thought made her sick. “I profited from it. It sent me to college. It paid for my housing, my food.” She swallowed, swallowed again. Nausea churned in her belly. She covered her face with her hands, too ashamed to look at Kade. “I didn’t know. I swear—”
“I know.”
Tears filled her eyes, slipped through her fingers as she hid her face. She didn’t wipe them, couldn’t bring herself to even search for a tissue. She wanted to curl into a ball and hide.
What kind of people had her parents been?
What kind of person was she?
“Hey, hey.” His voice was tender, gentle. He rested his hand on her head, stroked her hair. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out.”
How could he even look at her? She was so embarrassed, so ashamed of her family, her roots. Her own stupidity for turning a blind eye all those years.
Kathryn had known. Why hadn’t she told her? And how had Ginny missed it?
“This is not your fault, Ginny. Your parents did this. Your parents were criminals, and the money they made was dirty. But that’s not your fault. You didn’t know. You weren’t complicit. You were a child.”
She had been. But now she was an adult. An adult who’d always been so cheerful, so trusting. So stupid.
“This does not define you,” Kade said. “Your parents don’t define you. Your sister doesn’t define you. Only God gets to define you. And He says you’re precious and priceless and worthy.”
How could that be?
“Look at me.” His voice was still tender, but she could hear the imperative in it.
She didn’t want to. But she couldn’t hide forever. She wouldn’t. Because Kade was right. She was not her parents.
She pulled in a deep breath, blew it out. With a tissue from her purse, she wiped her tears. Then, finally, she looked at Kade.
His gaze was warm and tender. “That’s better.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just…”
“It’s a lot of information to take in after a weekend of taking in troubling information. At least now we know what we’re dealing with.”
“Not really.” She wiped the last—please let them be the last—of her tears. “We know we’re dealing with criminals, but nothing else. I want to know who they are.”
“I want to know what they want,” Kade said.
The problem was, she knew what they wanted. She’d told Kade everything else. She should tell him this, too. There was no reason for her to keep secrets from Kade. He was trustworthy.
She took a deep breath, opened her mouth to speak.
The phone rang through the car’s speakers. Kade glanced at his phone, which he’d left in the center console, then straightened. “It’s Sokolov.”
Chapter Eight
It seemed like Kade’s whole life was riding on this phone call.
The phone rang again.
Now was a terrible time to talk business, but Ginny’s eyes were wide, eager. “Answer it, for heaven’s sake.”
“I feel like—”
“Answer before he disconnects.”
“We’ll continue this—”
The phone rang again. Man, that was loud.
She waved her hands toward the screen on his dash that read incoming call.
He pressed the button. “Kade Powers”
“I’m glad I caught you,” Sokolov said. “I have good news.”
His heart thumped. “Okay.”
“I met with my friends this morning. They liked your proposal, and they want to invest.”
He worked to keep his voice steady. “That’s great. Do you know how much—?”
“We are willing to complete the funding. I will fax the Letter of Intent to you right away. Tell me your fax number.”
He gave the fax number of the office store he used in town, and Sokolov said, “Excellent. I’ll send it.”
Just like that.
Kade glanced at Ginny, who wore a wide smile. She clapped her hands together silently and mouthed, Yay!
He couldn’t believe it. All that worrying, and God had come through.
“The only thing is,” Sokolov said, “one of the investors owns a construction company. He’d like the project.”
Ginny’s smile faded.
Kade focused on the screen. Ginny was too distracting, and he needed to concentrate. “I have a company I’ve worked with for years,” Kade said. “They’re hard-working and trustworthy. And local.”
“His business does work in New Hampshire, and he’ll hire some locals for the job. Perhaps you’ve heard of them. They are New England Builds, but most people just know them as NEB.”
“I’ve heard of them,” Kade said.
“So you know they’re reputable.”
“I don’t know that. I don’t know much about them at all. Look, I appreciate the thought, but I’d feel more comfortable with my own guys.”
“Do you have an agreement with them? A contract?”
“No. Not yet, but—”
“NEB can start breaking ground as soon as you’re ready. They’re fast, efficient…” His voice shifted from businesslike to friendly. “Really, Kade, there’s nothing to worry about. They know what they’re doing. My friend isn’t insisting because he needs the work. He likes to know who he’s working with. All of us prefer contracting with NEB. We trust them. If you have other investors you’ll lose if you change construction companies—”
“No, I don’t. It’s just… they’re friends.”
“This is business. You must learn to separate business from friendship or you will never succeed.”
Kade wasn’t sure about that. What was wrong with working with friends? “And if I decide I’d rather work with my guys?”
After a long pause, Sokolov said, “Then we’ll have to pass, I’m afraid.”
Kade blew out a breath. “Can I think about it and get back to you later today?”
“Today, tomorrow, next week. There’s no hurry at all.”
No hurry for them. “Thanks. I’ll call you back.” He ended the call and looked at Ginny.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“It’s a fair request. They’re going to give me, a total stranger, money to build something. They want someone they trust overseeing the project. I get it.”
“But?”
“But I like the company I use. They’ve always played fair with me. These guys… I know nothing about them.”
She glanced at the clock. “How much do you think we can learn by the end of the day?”
He loved her attitude. He shifted into drive and made a U-turn. “Let’s find out.”
She nodded, but her focus was on her phone.
Of course it was. His problems weren’t hers. She had enough problems of her own. “So, your parents—”
“Uh-uh. We’re done talking about them.” She didn’t glance away from the screen. “Okay, I found NEB’s website. I’m searching for…”
The whoosh-whoosh of the windshield wipers kept him company until Ginny decided to finish her sentence.
“I’m searching for contact information for developers who’ve used or are currently using NEB.”
“That’s a good—”
“Shh. I’m focusing.”
Alrighty then. He’d just drive.
She pulled a notepad from her purse. “Sometimes it’s easier to just write things down.”
She went back and forth between her phone and her notepad. Finally, she looked at him. “It’s a good start. I’ve found about twenty people we can call. We’ll probably only reach half of them, but ten endorsements—”
“I’d take that.”
“We should cut the list in half and each make some calls.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Kade couldn’t imagine a worse way to entertain a woman. “Seriously, I can manage.”
“Are you kidding? Something to think about besides my problems? I’m all in.” She peeked at the backseat where he’d rested his laptop case. “You don’t happen to have the binder in there, do you?”
“It goes with me wherever I go. If it were a blanket, I’d be Linus.”
She grinned. “Good. There are some questions in there to ask contractors. We can use them as a starting point, a conversation starter with these developers.”
He glanced and caught her pleased smile. “Wow. You think of everything. That’s a great idea.”
How did somebody go from crying about her parents’ misdeeds to business mode in the space of fifteen minutes?
The tears hadn’t been false, and neither was the smile she wore right now. It was as if she couldn’t help it. Her cheerful disposition wouldn’t be contained.
Considering everything she’d gone through, her optimistic spirit was a gift from God. He didn’t think she realized that, but he sure hoped she would someday.
They were reaching the outskirts of town. “Where shall we go?”
“Dunkin’ Donuts?”
“Great idea.” He turned toward it, and five minutes later, they pulled in.
After they’d ordered coffee and found a booth in the corner, she handed him a sheet of paper with business names, contact names, and phone numbers.
He pulled out the binder, found the questions she was talking about, and read through them. They covered everything from a company’s hiring standards to how they handled cleanup after a project. “This was a great idea.”
She beamed. “What’s most important to you?”
“I’m all about integrity. The bottom line matters, but I care most about making sure we’re following the law and providing a safe work environment.”
“Excellent.” She circled three questions. “So we focus on these.”
He was beaming right back at her. Weren’t they a pair? He grabbed his list and stood. “I’m going to go over there so we don’t bother each other.” And so he wouldn’t be distracted by her beautiful face when he needed to concentrate. Fortunately, the restaurant was nearly empty.
As she started dialing, he walked away and did the same.
Not quite an hour later, he shoved his phone in his pocket and slid into the booth across from Ginny. She was on the phone, but she smiled at him quickly before she made a few notes.
“Thank you for being so candid,” she said. “So all in all, you’d say—”
There was a pause, and then, “Excellent. We really appreciate your help.” She laughed, said, “Ain’t that the truth. Okay, you have a good day.”
Finally, she set the phone on the table. “Phew.”
“I reached everyone I could,” Kade said, “so if you still have names—”
“Nope. I’m done. Just…” She made another notation on her notepad. “What’d you learn?”
“Nothing bad,” Kade said. “No red flags. All the developers seemed very happy with NEB’s work, said they were professional and trustworthy.”
“I got the same impression.” She turned her notepad so he could see it.
Her handwriting was horrendous. He inched closer to the page and squinted. “Does that say…?” He worked to decipher the last line. “Anthill… under the bed?”
She giggled, snatched the notepad back, and read the line. “It very clearly says ‘on time, under
budget.’”
He turned the paper back to face him and tapped his finger on the words. “But what’s that between under and budget? And are you sure that’s an O? It looks like an A to me. And what happened to the…?” There were multiple missing letters. “Sheesh, can you read this?”
“When I make paper notes, I have to type them while they’re still fresh.”
“So… no?”
She glared. “Listen, buster.”
His chuckle bubbled over. “I haven’t been listen-bustered in a long time.”
She lifted her cup and regarded him over the lid. “Then you were past due.”
He couldn’t think of a good comeback because her eyes, her smile, stymied him. “I really appreciate all you did this afternoon.”
She lifted her shoulders in a no-big-deal shrug. “I told you Saturday I wanted to help. I’m just glad you let me.”
“Let you?” He scoffed. “I couldn’t have done it without you. So…” He glanced at her notepad and his. “What do you think?”
“I’m not about to give you advice. This is a huge project, and you have to decide what’s best. I can tell you that I didn’t hear anything that gave me pause.”
He sipped from his coffee, half listening, half just enjoying watching her talk as she shared what she’d discovered. Seemed similar to what he’d learned. The company did the jobs professionally, kept their promises, and treated their employees well.
“I’ll be happy to type what I found out so you can see it. Or I can just read it to you, since you clearly have a reading disorder.”
He nearly spit out his coffee. “I can read letters. I never mastered chicken scratch.”
Her blush did things to his body he wouldn’t discuss in polite company.
She flipped through her notebook. “Yeah. I don’t see anything worrisome. One guy said they had a conflict but it was resolved easily. Misunderstanding.” When she reached the last page of her notes, she set the notebook down. “How about you?”
“Everyone seems happy with them.”
Kade was accustomed to the construction company he’d been working with. He hadn’t built many things, just a few office buildings, a restaurant, and a strip mall between town and the highway. The company he’d used had managed each project well, and Kade had made friends with the owner. But Sokolov was right. This was business, not friendship. There was no reason not to use NEB.
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