Legacy Rejected

by Robin Patchen

  She sat on the grass, her back against the tree.

  Brady sat beside her, said nothing.

  When she got her voice back, her words sounded flat. “He was watching me, that Pavlo guy?”

  “Rae said you thought you’d seen him before?”

  “At Dad’s burial. He didn’t join the guests at the gravesite. He stood by the cars.”

  “Why would he follow you all the way here?”

  She thought of the duffel bag full of cash her mother had given her—shoved into her arms, more like—the day she’d demanded Ginny run. Why hadn’t the man just asked her for it? She’d hand it over in a heartbeat if he’d only ask. “I don’t know.”

  Brady studied her with narrowed eyes. “It’s just you and me now, Ginny. I don’t know what you’re hiding, but it’s time you told me everything.”

  Maybe Brady had been right. Maybe she should have told him about the money, but she hadn’t. Instead, she’d assured him she knew nothing more, then forced herself to stand and finish the walk back to her house. When they reached her property, she could barely force herself to wave to the old man across the street before she made her way inside and started packing.

  She would run just like her sister had told her to. Like her mother had told her to. She couldn’t stay in Nutfield any longer. When she was gone, Kade would be able to rebuild his life, the Russian mobsters would clear out, and everything in this sweet little town would go back to normal. That had been her plan. That was still her plan.

  Now, she watched Kade watching the house and prayed he’d hurry and leave.

  Another few minutes passed before his car finally backed out of the driveway.

  She should just get in her car and drive away. She had no idea what would become of her home or her property, but staying to gather her things suddenly seemed foolhardy. She was making things worse for Kade. And what did she care about her furniture and decorations? She’d come with no more than a few boxes. She could leave with just the same. The sooner she was gone, the sooner everybody could go back to their normal lives.

  The sooner Kade could get his dreams back on track. Construction could start again…

  Construction.

  She swiped the tears that wouldn’t stop falling and tried to focus. Her mind was trying to tell her something.

  The weekend before, when Brady had asked her about other Russian names she’d heard, she hadn’t thought of Sokolov. He wasn’t someone from her past, nor was he from California—at least as far as she knew.

  But Brady had said Pavlo worked for the construction company at Clearwater Heights. The construction company had come with the deal Sokolov had made. The company had ties to Sokolov.

  Sokolov, who was also Russian.

  She was searching for Brady’s contact information when her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but after years in real estate sales, she was conditioned to answer every call. She swiped to connect. “Ginny Lamont.”

  “Ah, Miss Lamont.” The voice was familiar, as was the accent.

  She settled on the sofa in the living room. She’d been right. Only her epiphany had come too late. “This is she.”

  “You have something I need,” Sokolov said. “Something your father gave you.”

  All her talk about handing over what Mom had given her seemed like big words just now. Was she really going to do business with a Russian mobster? She fingered the pendant hanging from her neck and prayed for wisdom. All she could think to say was, “Okay.”

  “We’re going to make this simple. You are going to take the item with you, get in your car, and drive to your boyfriend’s new development.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Ah, yes. You two aren’t together anymore. I heard all about it. I also know he’s still quite devoted to you. I suspect you’re devoted to him, too. Am I correct?”

  “Kade has nothing to do with this.”

  “I disagree. Now that his future is entirely in my hands, he has everything to do with it. If you give me what I ask for, I will continue to fund his development. If you do not, I will pull my funding, and he will lose everything.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Ginny said. “I don’t even want it. You never had to… to destroy my entire life.”

  “Ah, well, perhaps it was overkill, telling that politician Collier about your past, but I needed you vulnerable.”

  He’d definitely made her that.

  “And you seem the type who’ll do more to protect the people you care about than you’ll do to protect yourself. The fact that you didn’t run away when your sister told you to tells me that much.”

  “How do you know—?”

  “I know much more about you than you can fathom, Ginny.”

  That was no doubt true. “Let’s say I do what you ask,” Ginny said. “Then what happens?”

  “When I have confirmed I have what I need, then nothing. Your boyfriend will build his development, and I will remain his biggest investor. You will say nothing, Clearwater Heights will be built, and we will all make a lot of money.”

  And then Kade would be in deep with the Russian mob. And it would be her fault. She closed her eyes, swallowed a sob. “You won’t hurt him?”

  “Why would I hurt him? I stand to profit from his development. I want only good things for your boyfriend.”

  “And you won’t ask anything else from me?”

  “If you keep quiet, nobody ever needs to know. The money I invested has been washed clean, thanks to your parents. There’s no reason this should ever come back to haunt any of us.”

  All this for a small duffel bag full of cash? She couldn’t imagine it would be enough to warrant the investment Sokolov and his cohorts had poured into getting it back.

  She didn’t understand.

  “Ginny,” he said. “I sense some hesitation on your part. I suppose it would be wise for me to tell you what happens if you decide not to do as I’ve asked. If you refuse to turn over what’s mine, I will not only pull the funding on your boyfriend’s project so that he’ll lose everything, I will also arrange it so that it seems Kade is guilty of fraud. I will make it seem as if the money was only ever intended to be a short-term loan to convince the bank not to call his loan. And then, I will make it look as though he came by the money through less than honorable means. He will likely land in prison, though, with the American justice system, one never knows.”

  “Kade hasn’t done anything to you.”

  Sokolov continued. “I will also tell your friend Bruce Collier—who will, no doubt, tell the editor of the Gazette—exactly what your parents did for a living, and I will ensure that they uncover evidence that shows you were not only aware but involved in their illegal activity.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “I know,” he said. “It’s all so unfair. At that point, if you still refuse to give me what’s mine, your boyfriend will die. Which won’t hurt me at all, actually, because everything he owns will become mine.” He exhaled a short laugh. “Actually, I think I’ve worked this out quite well.”

  She closed her eyes, swallowed hard.

  “If you call your police office friend, Chief Thomas, or any law enforcement, you and your boyfriend will both die. And it won’t be an easy death. It will be slow and painful. I think I’ll start with Kade, so you can watch exactly what—”

  “Stop. Please.” She bent over, hugged her stomach. “Just tell me where to meet you.”

  “You will go to the lakeshore on your boyfriend’s property. It should be quiet there today with this rain. Park where you saw my associate yesterday. He will meet you there.”

  “When?”

  “You have what I need at the house?”

  “It’s in a safe deposit box.”

  “Okay, your bank is right around the corner.”

  “How do you know where I do my banking?”

  His laugh was light, as if he were chatting with his granddaughter, not a woman whose life he’d just threat
ened. “I know everything, Ginny. I know how you like your coffee. I know what you eat for breakfast—toast with avocado? I couldn’t stomach it.”

  She looked around her living room as if he might be watching her at that very moment.

  “I also know everybody you speak to on the phone, so don’t make the mistake of trying to call anyone for help. You understand?”

  She nodded as if he could see her. Maybe he could.

  “Go to the bank now,” he said. “When you have the item, drive to Clearwater Heights. My man will be there.”

  Thirty minutes later, Ginny inched past the trailer on Kade’s property. This had been a good choice of meeting places on Sokolov’s part. Thanks to the rain that was coming down hard, the property was empty of construction workers. The state highway that led here had only a smattering of small businesses and old homes along it, but on a day like this, it was largely deserted. And with visibility so low, even if someone did see her pass, they wouldn’t get a good look at her car—or anybody else’s.

  Ginny’s assistant was supposed to be at the trailer, but his car wasn’t there. No surprise. Nobody would be dropping by to tour the show homes today. Ginny had the wild impulse to stop and run inside the office and lock the doors. She could use the landline to call the police. But at the memory of Sokolov’s words—I know everything—she quashed it.

  The rain that had slowed to a drizzle that morning now pounded her car with renewed force, bouncing off the windshield. The sky, the land, and the road were varying shades of gray, making it hard for her to see where she was going. Slowly, she headed down the hill and rounded the curve. She pulled to a stop where the man had been standing, watching her, the day before.

  Just beyond the beach, the lake water churned in the storm.

  Her passenger door opened. She gasped, shocked by the suddenness of it.

  A man slid into her car. He wore a Yankees baseball cap pulled down to conceal his eyes. The little hair she could see beneath the cap was blond. His skin was pale. His T-shirt bulged at the biceps, and when he turned toward her, the muscles in his neck pulled taught.

  “You have it?”

  It was as if her entire being were vibrating with fear and tension as she reached in the backseat, yanked the duffel forward, and shoved it into his lap.

  He glanced at the bag. “What is this?”

  “That’s it.” Her voice was high, near panic. “That’s everything my mother gave me.”

  He opened the duffel, revealing the cash, then closed it again. “This is everything?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll find what we need in here?”

  What was he talking about? “Yes, yes. That’s all I have.”

  The man sat there another moment, facing her. She couldn’t see his eyes beneath the cap, so she didn’t know what he was looking at. Suddenly, she felt warm, stifled, as if the air in the car were being sucked out by this person beside her. She wanted to turn on the A/C, but she was afraid to move, afraid to breathe.

  What did he expect from her?

  Why wouldn’t he leave?

  “It’s your fault I was pulled over yesterday, right?” Unlike Sokolov, this man didn’t have an accent.

  “I didn’t… I told Kade I saw somebody watching me. My friend Rae was there. Rae’s—”

  “The chief of police’s wife. We know. And now they know my name.”

  “Nothing else, though. Just your name.”

  “You won’t tell them anything about this little meeting.” Not a question, a command.

  “I won’t say a word.”

  He lifted his cap.

  She averted her gaze. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want him to have reason to hurt her.

  “Look at me, Ginny.”

  With effort, she lifted her eyes.

  He was her age, maybe younger. His eyes were grayish-green, pale. His skin looked freshly shaved.

  He reached toward her, and she shrunk away, pressed her back against the cold door. He grabbed her chin and squeezed hard. “Get a good look at me.”

  With effort, she made herself look. Made herself take in his angular features, his dull gray eyes.

  “If you tell anybody anything about this…” He leaned closer, close enough that, for a moment, she feared he might kiss her. “If you betray us, this face will be the last thing you see before you die. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyebrows rose.

  “I won’t tell anybody. It’s over now. You have what you want. I’ll never say a word.”

  If anything, he leaned in a little closer.

  Lightning flashed in the distance.

  Thunder rumbled.

  Finally, he released her chin, patted her face a little too hard, and backed away. “We understand each other.” He grabbed the duffel, opened the door, and stepped out into the rain. “Be careful out there.”

  The door slammed. He jogged up the hill beside the car and disappeared over the top.

  Ginny pressed down on the accelerator and sped along the circle that would eventually drop her near the entrance to the development. Her stomach was roiling, and she swallowed twice, three times, trying to settle it. She couldn’t stop the car, she wouldn’t, not until she was far, far from this place, from that man.

  Her hands were clenched so tightly on the steering wheel they ached, but she couldn’t relax them. Finally, she reached the development’s entrance. This was the spot where, less than two months before, Kade had brought her target shooting. This was the spot where he’d told her his plans for the land. Here, together, they’d shared their dreams.

  She wouldn’t look as she passed, couldn’t think about all she’d lost and all she had yet to lose.

  Because no matter what Sokolov had told her, this would never be over for her.

  She could never undo what she’d just done. She’d handed cash to mobsters—to thugs who imported drugs, who smuggled people across the border in conditions so bad, many didn’t survive the trip. These were the kinds of people who sold children into slavery.

  And she’d just handed them a bagful of cash.

  She turned onto the state highway, hit the gas, and sped toward town, her stomach lurching with every bump.

  She wasn’t going to make it.

  It would be stupid to stop in the storm, but her nausea didn’t care about the storm. She turned the car into the breakdown lane, slammed on the brake, and yanked it into park. She all but fell out, then stumbled to the grass, where she landed on her knees and retched.

  Chapter Eighteen

  By the time Ginny reached her driveway, it was dark outside. The storm raged, whipping the branches of her maple tree. Her little house was right in the middle of it.

  Ginny let herself inside, where she disengaged the alarm and set it again. A quick look around told her nothing had changed. Boxes were still stacked, some empty, some full. She wouldn’t continue that project, though. She’d leave everything behind, leave a note for Kade to take it all. She’d give him the house, too. He could sell it and keep the little equity she’d built. It wouldn’t atone for what she’d done to his life. It would be no more than a token of her remorse.

  She had to get out of Nutfield. She’d leave right now if not for the storm.

  She dreaded storms. That had been the best thing about San Francisco. In the years she’d lived there, there hadn’t been a single thunderstorm. Not like when they’d lived in Kansas and Texas and eastern Colorado, where thunder and lightning were as common in the spring as blooming trees and budding flowers. Those storms brought winds so strong she’d worried her whole life might just blow away. But it wasn’t the wind she feared, nor the thunder and the lightning. It was the rain, always the rain.

  New Hampshire could handle the rainfall. This marshy land would absorb it, and, except maybe on a few low-lying roads, there would be no flooding. On this hill where she’d bought her house, she was safe from rising waters.

  But she hurried to the
second floor just the same. She stripped out of her wet clothes, slipped on her nightgown, and crawled into her bed, where she covered herself with the blankets and curled into a ball, suddenly seven years old again.

  Thunder cracked outside. All the memories of that horrible night, memories she’d refused to think of for years, came crashing down like the floodwaters that breached the levees.

  At that time, she’d longed to be at Granny and PawPaw’s in the country. They’d have explained what was going on. They’d have wrapped Ginny in safety and warmth. Granny and PawPaw had loved Ginny like nobody else. They’d have fed her ham and black-eyed peas and sweet tea and made her feel protected.

  Instead, Ginny and her family had stayed in New Orleans.

  Ginny had been just old enough to know something bad was going on, but not nearly old enough to understand. She’d heard snatches of conversation everywhere she went. Folks were boarding their windows, gathering supplies, muttering prayers and talking about things she didn’t understand, like levees and evacuations. The name Katrina was never far from anyone’s lips.

  While the neighbors packed their cars and drove away, Ginny’s parents were nowhere to be found.

  When the storm hit, Ginny and Kathryn huddled in their shared bed as thunder rumbled and lightning struck. They reassured each other that Mama and Daddy would be back soon.

  Outside, water sloshed against the side of the house. It seeped beneath the doors. When Ginny made the mistake of looking, she saw it was ankle-deep.

  Kathryn found the ladder, propped it against the opening in the ceiling in her parents’ bedroom, and coaxed Ginny into the attic. They huddled next to the tiny window and watched the world float away.

  After a while, boats motored down the street, taking people to safety.

  “Maybe we should flag one of ’em down,” Ginny said.

  “Daddy said to stay here.”

  Daddy and Mama were long gone, but Ginny didn’t say that out loud. Sayin’ it out loud might make it true.

  Every once in a while, they’d see something that looked like a head, maybe hair fanned out beside it. Hands, feet. When they saw that, Kathryn would pull Ginny close so she couldn’t look.