by Geri Foster
"Can you believe that?" Rachel asked. "She says there wasn't any money taken from the bank."
"Then why didn't Townson say something?"
"Maybe he did, but nobody listened. After all, Nancy was just a clerk."
"I have to check this out. If he knew something, he had an obligation to tell the DA and the FBI. And if he didn't tell them, then that's withholding evidence."
"If the DA got that information but decided not to share it with the court, what then?"
"Then that's obstruction of justice. Both are against the law. But first, we need to find out if it's true, and if it is, who all knew about it."
"My dad kept saying he didn't do anything wrong. Now we may be able to prove he was telling the truth," she said excitedly.
He put his arm around her and squeezed, enjoying the feel of her and the nearness they shared. "Don't get ahead of yourself yet. This is only the beginning. We technically don't know where all this will lead us. But it certainly gives me something to search for tomorrow."
"You're right, maybe Sheriff Townson’s notes are in there."
"That's a long shot, but there will be copies of the bank records. Maybe they can verify what Nancy said."
"That would mean a lot."
He turned to her and gathered her hands in his. "I want you to know that I'll follow this to the very end, but it still might not get Jim out of prison."
She turned white as the cable sweater she wore. "What? Why not?"
"It takes more than you can imagine to reopen a case. No one, including judges, likes to do that."
She turned aside, hiding her pain from him. "Because it proves they got it wrong the first time?"
"It's not all about egos. It's about the law and things can be tricky."
"Then we not only need the evidence, we need to find out who took the money, and why they framed my dad."
"That's not going to be easy."
"Where do we go from here?"
"I don't know. Kendall is talking to Spears’ wife to see if she has anything to add. I'm sure she doesn't. Robert Spears isn't the kind of guy to easily spill his guts."
She stared at him soberly, her face a mask of seriousness. "Could he be in on it?"
Lucas shook his head, not wanting to go there yet. "No way. Spears is a nice guy. He gave your dad the job. He had no idea this all would happen. No, my bet is on Burke. If your dad didn't take the money, then who else had access?"
"The President and the Vice President." Rachel looked at the house where Nancy lived. "I don't think she'd do anything against the rules. Besides, she seems rather happy in her own little world."
He followed her gaze. "You think so? To me she sounded lonely. She gets up and dresses for work but has no place to be but the library two days a week for four hours."
"She did mention that, didn't she? A woman without friends. How sad." She nibbled her bottom lip then glanced at him. "How much do you think she made at the bank?"
He shrugged, hating where his thoughts were going. "Probably not much more than minimum wage. Everyone knows old man Burke is cheap."
"Don't you think two hundred and fifty grand would tempt a woman who lives in the past?"
He glanced at the house and realized it was such a solitary place. "Could, I guess."
"Think about it. She's lonely and worked at the bank as long as I can remember. Why wouldn't she dream of living it up in the Caribbean?"
"She said there wasn't any money in the bank."
"Perhaps because she took it. If she did what my dad was accused of, she has the money hidden away."
He shook his head, his doubts strong. "Then why didn't she move away after being fired? That would be the perfect opportunity to make an escape without arousing anyone's attention."
"Maybe she is planning to," Rachel stated. "God knows the woman is patient, and she was only recently let go." She shook her head. "Lucas, didn't you notice the magazine from England on the end table?"
Still unconvinced, he said, "That could be old."
"It wasn't. There was barely a crease on it."
He let out a breath and wrinkled his brow. He didn't want to believe a woman he'd known all his life was capable of such a thing. But, then, he didn't believe Jim was either. "Nancy Wigan?"
"It's just a thought. Could be nothing."
"She said she told Townson." He started the vehicle. "Let's find out if she's telling the truth."
Rachel knew they were grasping at straws with Nancy being the crook. In all honesty, she doubted the woman was clever enough to pull off something so complicated. Rachel's dad, on the other hand, was an accountant. He knew money and numbers.
Her heart sank. She didn't want to believe either of them had broken the law, but someone did. Or did they? If Nancy had told the truth about there not being that kind of money in the bank, then no crime had been committed. If that were the case, how did the FBI convince a jury that her dad had stolen the money? Money that Nancy said never existed? She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Nothing made sense anymore.
"Lucas," she said. "Let's pull over at the park. I need to settle my nerves."
He looked at her. "You do look pale. You not feeling well?"
"I'm okay, it's just all too much right now."
"I'll tell you what. Let's ride out to my place and we can have an ice-cold beer."
She was skeptical, "I don't know."
"Oh, come on, I've known you all my life, you think I'd take advantage of you?"
"What about that night on the dock?"
"Now, that wasn't all me. You were right there with me, young lady."
She was.
They'd both decided it would be best to wait until they were married to have sex, but teenage hormones didn't have good hearing. She wasn't on birth control and she had worried about getting pregnant, but luckily that didn't happen.
"You're right. But in the past, I've enjoyed blaming you so much."
"I'm sure in your mind I've been murdered a hundred different ways."
"You're right. And I enjoyed each time you took your last breath."
"Ouch, woman. You're mean."
They drove through town and when Lucas stopped at one of the few stoplights in town, she noticed a middle-aged man that looked familiar, but she didn’t remember his name. “Who’s that? I can’t remember.”
“That’s Mike Coons. He and his family used to live here, but shortly after you left they moved closer to Denton.”
“And that younger guy with him?”
“That’s John Tully. He lives just outside of my jurisdiction in a trailer with some woman.”
“He looks rough.”
“I’ve had my eye on him for a few years, but he’s never broken the law.” The light changed and he drove across the intersection. “I have to admit, I’ve never seen those two together.”
“What does Mr. Coons do?”
“According to Sheriff Townson he used to be in commodities. Since he moved, I have no idea.”
“He looks the New York broker type,” she commented. “Fancy suit, Italian loafers and a hundred-dollar haircut.”
“Yeah, and John looks like he just rolled out from sleeping in a garbage can.”
She pressed her face against the side glass of the car to get a better look as they approached the men standing on the curb, next to the park. “Are they arguing?”
She jumped when Coons grabbed John by the collar of his jacket and shook him, his mouth snarling, his face so close sprinkles of spittle splashed on the younger man’s face.
“Let’s see what’s going on.” Lucas pulled the cruiser to the curb. “Stay in the car,” he ordered, sliding out of his seat. He slowly approached the men, his hand close to the gun at his side.
Her heart sped up and she wished she hadn’t mentioned anything. She didn’t want to see Lucas get hurt or deal with a dangerous situation. Today had already been stressful enough.
Stepping up on the sidewalk, he smiled cordially. “Ge
ntlemen, everything okay?”
Coons instantly released John and adjusted his cashmere coat and smoothed back his slick black hair. “Oh, hello, Sheriff,” he said nervously, licking his thick lips. “I was just explaining to John here that I want to hire him to paint my house. We’re trying to agree on a price.”
Lucas glanced at John, his eyes sharp, brows lowered. “That right?”
Unsmiling, with his head lowered, John’s stringy hair hung in his face. “Yeah, he’s cheap. That’s all.”
“Just checking to make sure there’s no problem here.” Lucas tipped his hat and tossed them a hard glare. “You men have a good day.”
He returned to the cruiser and pulled into traffic. Rachel looked behind them. “That’s weird.”
“What?” he asked. “Why do you say that?”
“They didn’t look like they were talking about painting a house to me. John whatever-his-name-is looked pissed. I heard him say, ‘What about my money? You cheated me the last time’.”
“I’ll contact the precinct and have Tyler keep an eye on them. This is only the second time I’ve seen either of them in Rainwater since Coons moved away, and they weren’t together either of those times.”
They drove a short distance out of town before he turned off the blacktop onto a dirt road. She was surprised as they pulled up to a house she was very familiar with. A friend of hers once lived here. She and Tammy used to hang out together in their teens.
"This is the Roger's old place."
"They retired to Charleston, where their son and daughter now live. When it came up for sale, I jumped at the chance to buy it. I always wanted it."
The scene before her was gorgeous. In the late afternoon sun, the place radiated a warm, golden hue. The grass had yet to turn completely brown, and the out fields were rich with winter wheat. Over in the south pasture four quarter horses grazed leisurely. A rooster crowed in the distance and a dog ran toward the cruiser barking happily. The old Roger's place had changed. The shutters on the house had been painted, a new roof put on, and a nice big porch had been added.
He pulled to a stop in the yard and jumped out. The dog right on his tail as he came around to open the door for her. Wagging his tail, the pooch seemed glad to see her. "His name is Boomer. He's half German Shepherd, half Border Collie. Good ranch dog."
She knelt and petted Boomer’s head and scratched behind his ears. "Hey there, handsome. You look like you have the run of the place." The dog continued to wiggle around, then licked her face like a lollipop.
Lucas took him by the collar and pulled him away to allow her to stand. "Leave her alone. She's mine.” He let go of the dog and scowled. "And stop being such a flirt."
She blushed and turned aside so Lucas couldn't see her reaction. After all they'd been through, she didn't belong to him anymore. That fairy tale had been shattered and, while she was finally able to rationalize that Lucas wasn't responsible for her dad going to prison, there was still a barrier that kept them apart.
She knew it was her and not him. It appeared his feelings for her hadn't changed at all, but hers had. She still remembered the love she used to have for him, and she still felt it, somehow, but she was different now. Less naïve. Oh, he was still the best-looking man she'd ever seen, and he had a body that made her weak in the knees, not to mention his kisses. Yet, something stood in the way of her allowing herself to love him and, if she was honest with herself, it was trust. She was beginning to see the big picture of everything that had happened, but that didn’t make his decision to put his career first hurt any less. She wanted him, enjoyed his touch, but free-falling back into love was out of the question.
He and Boomer moved toward the house and he motioned for her to follow. "Come on and sit on the porch. I'll grab a couple of beers."
She climbed the three steps and the faint odor of fresh paint swirled around her. A smile teased the corners of her mouth as she thought of him out here with a brush and a bucket of paint. She looked up, wondering if he'd built the porch himself.
As she eased down into a comfortable rocking chair, he came out with two longnecks. She smiled and took one as Boomer sauntered over and stood in front of her, wagging his tail.
"He wants you out of his chair."
She started to move to the railing, but Lucas stopped her. "Boomer, old buddy, this lady takes precedence over you. Go find another place to lay."
He did, right at his master's feet.
"I am a stranger. Maybe he thinks I'm being impolite."
"No, he thinks he’s the ramrod around here. It's time he learns differently." She noticed that he continued to scratch Boomer’s ears as he verbally put him in his place.
As the cool air brushed against her cheeks, she took a long sip of beer and let out a deep sigh. This was exactly what she needed.
"I guess it's just you and him?"
He laughed. "If I had a wife or a girlfriend, or even a close acquaintance, Kendall would have burned up her cell phone calling to tell on me."
"No, she wouldn't. She's not allowed to discuss you with me."
"Really?" He whistled. "That's rather harsh."
She shrugged and tilted her head. "Rules."
"You two have rules about not discussing me?"
"Yes."
He laughed out loud and slapped his thigh. "Oh boy, that's a good one."
Confused, she stopped rocking and glared at him. "What's so damn funny?"
"Anytime you and her talk or get together, I know about it ten seconds later."
"What?" Had Kendall been tattling on her all this time? No, she couldn't believe it. "That's not true."
He placed his beer on the square table between them. "I know you have a butterfly tattooed on your right shoulder, you have a bikini wax once a month, and you think your ass is too big." He tapped her on the nose. "Which I don't agree with at all."
So, that double-crosser had been keeping him up to date on everything she did. If she wasn’t so angry, she might be embarrassed he knew such intimate details about her life. But, for now, she only wanted to punch Kendall in the face.
Talk about a turncoat.
"That's a true friend for you," she said bitterly. "Keeping your ex-boyfriend informed of your business." She looked away. "I guess she told you about the dozens of dates I've been on that were flops."
He stood, took her beer out of her hand, placed it on the table and pulled her against him. "I don't care about that. I only know that I love you more than I could ever love anyone else."
Then he kissed her. She nearly lost her breath. His arms came around her, molding their bodies together. She tried desperately to hang on to her resolve not to allow him to breach her inner self, but even her best intentions were failing as he slanted his mouth to fit against hers perfectly. Despite her self-control, her mouth opened on its own, as if he held complete command over her body and soul. His tongue entered her mouth to cajole rather than demand. Desire rose in her like a live furnace, forcing her to pull away and bury her face in his chest.
"We were just getting started," his voice was husky, thick with his own desire. He kissed the top of her head so sweetly she nearly cried. "I won't push you, Rachel."
"I know." She placed her hands on his chest to put more distance between them. "I think we'd better leave."
She didn't know how far they were from his bed, and she didn't want to find out. Not today, anyway.
Stomping her feet against the chill, Kendall knocked on the Vice President of the bank's door and stepped back. When his wife, Jeanette, answered, she thrust out her mom's cinnamon bread. "Surprise."
She tried ignoring the look of confusion on Mrs. Spears’ face but gave up and brightened her smile. This was the first time in eons that she had come to their house alone. Why would she? They had no children and weren't inclined to be particularly fond of her. Usually they acted like she was a nuisance and that they wished she didn't exist.
"What's this, Kendall?" Jeanette faked a smile of sur
prise.
Her grin felt cold and stiff enough to hurt her cheeks. "I thought I'd treat you to a loaf of Mom’s famous bread."
Jeanette opened the screen door wide enough to take the offered gift, then, allowed it to slam close. "Tell your mother thanks."
From the beginning, she knew the Spears didn't like her, but you'd think, them being such good friends with her parents, that the witch would at least invite her in. She decided to take matters into her own hands. "May I come in for a moment, please?"
Looking highly skeptical, Jeanette pushed open the screen and allowed her to enter. Their home was less than two years old and set in the newer section of town, close to where the bank President lived. Inside the large foyer, Jeanette stood still, waiting. If Kendall thought she was going to be invited for tea, she was mistaken. Jeanette was staring at her like she expected her to sprout another head.
"Do you need something?" Jeanette’s voice sounded as flat as Texas and just as dry.
"No, I just dropped by for a quick visit."
"I find that rather peculiar, to say the least. I can't remember you ever coming here. Not in all the years we've known your parents."
"Who is it, darling?" A man's voice came from the interior of the house.
"It's the Cochran girl." Jeanette crossed her arms in front of her expensive cardigan sweater and glared. "She's being neighborly.” She sprouted a spiteful grin as fire flew from her grey eyes. “A regular social butterfly."
Mr. Burke entered the foyer, clearly surprised to see her. "How nice of you to drop by." He was a lot nicer than his wife, or was he just a better actor?
She hoped she hadn't made a mistake and, if so, hopefully she would be able to bow out gracefully. Robert moved closer, his hand in the pocket of his expensive suit pants. He wore a conservative tie and a well-fitted vest with a breast pocket handkerchief. She knew they were rich, but after seeing the interior of their home, the extravagance surprised her.
