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by Lynn LaFleur

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  Turning Point

  ISBN 9781419922497

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Turning Point Copyright © 2009 Lynn LaFleur

  Edited by Raelene Gorlinsky

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book Publication June 2009

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Turning Point

  Lynn LaFleur & Randi Monroe

  Acknowledgments

  The Innocence Project is a nonprofit legal clinic affiliated with the Benjamin N. Cardozo School of Law at Yeshiva University and created by Barry C. Scheck and Peter J. Neufeld in 1992. The project is a national litigation and public policy organization dedicated to exonerating wrongfully convicted people through DNA testing and reforming the criminal justice system to prevent future injustice. As a clinic, law students handle casework while supervised by a team of attorneys and clinic staff. For more information, visit: http://www.innocenceproject.org.

  We wish to thank Arwen Lynch, Tarot by Arwen, for her advice and guidance on the use and interpretation of the Tarot. You can visit Arwen at www.tarotbyarwen.com.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Bud: Anheuser–Busch, Incorporated

  Cristal Champagne: LR Cristal Louis Roederer Champagne RL

  Facebook: Facebook, Inc.

  Google: Google Inc.

  Hallmark: Hallmark Licensing, Inc.

  Harley: H-D Michigan, Inc.

  Jack Daniel’s: Jack Daniel’s Properties, Inc.

  Kahlúa: The Kahlúa Company

  Kodak: Eastman Kodak Company

  MySpace: MySpace, Inc.

  Oreos: Kraft Foods Holdings, Inc.

  Tahoe: General Motors Corporation

  Viagra: Pfizer, Inc.

  VW: Volkswagen Aktiengesellschaft

  Ten of Swords, Reversed

  The worst is over ~ A new beginning

  Chapter One

  Lightning slashed across the sky. Seconds later, a clap of thunder struck with enough force to rattle the glasses hanging above the bar. Freezing rain, a few feet of snow, temperatures low enough to freeze your butt—a kick-ass storm heading right their way.

  Rico Zanini stood at the front windows inside The Tarot Café and looked up at the storm clouds as dark and forbidding as the blackness in his heart.

  Ten years, two months, five days. Half his adult life spent locked in a cage like an animal, all because of her. Soon she’d pay for every fucking minute he’d lost.

  “Rico, are you out there?”

  He turned at the sound of Leandra Knight’s voice. She elbowed her way through the kitchen’s swinging doors and stepped into the dining room, holding a large cake box with both hands.

  “M.B. should be here any minute, then we’re done.” She laid the box on one of the tables near the door. “I don’t think you’ve met her yet. Red hair, really cute gal. I have a couple things to finish in back. If she pulls up, just hand her the box and lock up. You’re free to go after that.”

  Free to go. Like hell.

  “That’s it?”

  “The storm calls the shots from now on. M.B.’s probably the only one brave enough to drive in this. Once she drops off the cake at Piney Point Elder Center, she’ll hunker down too.”

  He tried not to flinch when Leandra touched his arm. A hard-and-fast rule of prison life—never advance on anyone unless you planned to kill them. You touched no one, and no one touched you.

  “Thanks for all your hard work today, Rico. We couldn’t have secured the place in time without you. I’m really glad you took the job.”

  He stepped back from her and jammed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. The job was a means to an end. He didn’t need the money, but it set his plan in motion. As soon as he got what he came for, he was out of there.

  “Sure, no problem. I’ll wait for her.” Make that ten years, two months, six days.

  *

  M.B. Hunter loved the mountains, from the bite of the fresh chill air to the freedom it gave her to live in the moment. After growing up in Queens, in a jungle of asphalt and graffiti mixed with the broken dreams of boarded-up storefronts and burgeoning unemployment, M.B. looked around her and knew she had it all. She’d never tire of the splendor and majesty of the High Sierra, no matter what Mother Nature threw her way.

  She frowned, remembering it hadn’t started out that way. Fresh out of law school and with her California license in hand, she’d headed straight to Southern California.

  Too soon, the glamour of L.A. wore thin. Movie stars without makeup, she discovered, looked worse than she did, and drugs were so much a part of the club scene, she’d tired of that the first month.

  Worst of all, she despised her job as a public defender. She worked twenty-hour days to eke out enough to cover the rent on her studio apartment at the beach. She’d come to California to soak up the sun. Instead, she spent most of her time stuck in traffic while she lived on antihistamines and overpriced coffee drinks to stay awake.

  Finally, on her twenty-seventh birthday, while she gobbled down half a Black Forest torte by herself, M.B. realized she had nothing. That’s when she knew that somewhere along the way she’d lost her love of the law and a damn big part of her soul.

  A week later, her cell phone in one hand and ATM card in the other, M.B. caught the first plane north. There, in a frozen little village atop the highest peak she’d ever ascended, she learned miracles still happened.

  This afternoon, she looked up at the sky and then at her watch. She knew she had to hurry or she’d have a catastrophe of nature to deal with if she got stuck in the snow. The perfect place to freeze to death. She shivered at the dire prospect and turned into an empty space outside the café. The Tarot Café stood at the far end of Bridge Street, in the heart of Truckee’s historic district. Hers was the lone vehicle still on the road. Everyone else had been smart enough to call it a day. She looked at her watch again. She’d be home safe and warm in half an hour.

  “Rico, get the door!” Leandra calle
d out at the sound of someone banging on the glass. Where did he go? This isn’t good. She hurried to open it.

  “I thought you’d forgotten about me,” M.B. said. A rush of cold air followed her inside. She stomped the slush off her boots. “Damn, it’s hot in here.”

  “That’s because you were outdoors. It’s perfect.”

  “Maybe for you.” M.B. pulled off her gloves, stuffed them in her pockets and unfastened her parka. Leandra gasped.

  “My god, where’s your shirt, woman?”

  Beneath her parka, M.B. wore only a lavender tuft of lace that would have shredded under the weight of heavier breasts. She grabbed the lapels and pulled her jacket together. “I was at the gym. This woman came gliding by with a big ol’ smoothie in her hand. She waved to someone as I turned. Bingo, right down the front of my shirt. You can’t go out in wet clothes in this weather.”

  Leandra raised an eyebrow. “You couldn’t have borrowed a T-shirt?”

  “I was in a hurry to get here.”

  “Shirtless is better?”

  “It’s warmer than wet.” M.B. opened the parka again. “Besides, isn’t this bra gorgeous?”

  “If you’re meeting someone special for a little matinee.”

  “Where does it say we can’t wear something sexy for ourselves?”

  Leandra thought a moment, then laughed. “I’m sure my mom could quote the source, chapter and verse. It’s lovely, M.B., but I’m more worried about you getting home before the storm.”

  M.B. waved aside her concern. “I’ve been ready for it for three days. Kindling’s laid so as soon as I get home I’ll drag in the cats, pour myself a nice glass of merlot and strike a match. I’ll be good ‘til Sunday.”

  “Synda and I were telling someone about your cat sanctuary today. He took over Buddy’s job as our maintenance man. I wanted you to meet him.”

  “Who? Why don’t I already know him?”

  “You might have seen him around town. He’s been here about a week.” Leandra sealed the lid of the cake box with a couple of pieces of tape.

  “He likes cats?”

  Leandra grimaced. “Hates them.”

  “You’d hire a cat hater?”

  “Trust me, he’s a nice guy…plus we were desperate.”

  M.B. narrowed her eyes. “How desperate?”

  Leandra hesitated before answering. “Look, even ex-offenders need a break.”

  “What!”

  “It’s not like that,” Leandra said. “He was wrongly accused.”

  M.B. dropped her head into her hands. “Oh God, I don’t believe I’m hearing this.” She looked up. “So what was he wrongly accused of?”

  Leandra mumbled something.

  “Say again.”

  “He didn’t do it. We know because we Googled him.”

  M.B. threw her hands in the air. “But of course, if it’s on Google it has to be true.” She gripped Leandra’s wrist. “What did he do?”

  “He was convicted of rape and attempted murder.”

  “What?”

  At M.B.’s indignation, Leandra straightened her spine and thrust out her chin. “He was exonerated by a program called The Innocence Project. You must have heard of it.”

  “I’ve heard of it. When?”

  “Last year. He’s perfect for the job. He’s a big guy. Poor Synda’s always dragging a ladder behind her. He can reach all the places she can’t.”

  “Do you know anything about him besides what you found on Google?”

  “All that we needed to know. He’s a little rough around the edges, but we can help him with that.”

  “Lea, I spent too many months defending people who claimed they were innocent. Some were, some weren’t, but none of them was moving in with my best friends.”

  “He’s not like that.”

  “I don’t care if you see a halo above his aura. Every con’s got a sob story. You can’t take them at their word.” She balled her fists. “For once, girlfriend, err on the side of safety. Before you let this guy into your lives, make sure you know him. Googling isn’t enough.”

  “He was staying at the campground, in a sleeping bag. We couldn’t let him freeze to death in the storm when Buddy’s cabin is sitting empty.”

  M.B. sighed. “I know you keep a gun in the safe. Take it out and slip it under your pillow. Promise me you will.”

  “I don’t like guns.”

  “Then tell Synda to put it under hers.” M.B. shook her head. “When do I get to meet this innocent man?”

  “Why would you want to meet him?”

  “So I can pick him out in a lineup later.”

  Leandra ran a hand through her hair. “I can’t believe you were ever a defense attorney. You never think anyone’s innocent.”

  “Not true. I defended a lot of folks who would have gone down if they’d drawn another P.D. I’m just not the proverbial cockeyed optimist that I used to be. I don’t care if I sound like our mothers—it’s better to be safe than sorry.” She looked over her shoulder into the empty dining room. “So where is he?”

  Leandra pointed to the sky. “Forget it. You can meet him later. Syn and I will be fine.” She took a moment to tamp down her temper. M.B. could be so stubborn. “Now get out of here before the storm hits full force. It’s not going to wait for you to get home.”

  “I’d feel a lot better if you and Syn came with me. Promise me you’ll make sure this guy stays put in Buddy’s place and doesn’t come inside the café.” She pulled her keys and gloves out of her pockets. “Hey, thanks for the cake. The old folks up at Piney Point get so excited when you send one over. Perfect for a dark and stormy night.”

  “Our pleasure, Snoopy.” Leandra held the door open, then followed M.B. to her SUV. She rubbed her arms against the cold while M.B. laid the cake flat in the footwell on the passenger’s side.

  “Drive carefully,” Leandra said. “You can feel the snow’s itching to start.”

  They hugged before M.B. slid behind the wheel.

  “Call me the minute you get home. If you don’t, we’ll come looking for you.”

  “Half an hour and I’ll be there, feet up, surrounded by fat, spoiled kitties.” She wiggled her fingers in a goodbye wave. “And put that gun under your pillow.”

  M.B. threw the gearshift into drive but sat a moment before releasing the brake.

  The Innocence Project. Since Leandra had said the name, so many thoughts tumbled through her mind, none more troubling than the decision she’d made when she’d been too young to deal with the consequences of a lifetime of guilt. She couldn’t make up for her past. She’d hurt someone terribly and she’d take that to her grave. But she wasn’t foolish enough to allow her friends, no matter how well-meaning, to put their lives in jeopardy.

  She hid her frown until Leandra stepped back inside the café. Then M.B. pulled out her cell phone and dialed the sheriff’s office.

  Chapter Two

  “There you are.” Leandra had walked back into the café to find Rico standing in the shadows behind the bar. Why had he hidden? “How long were you standing there?”

  “A few minutes.”

  “Why didn’t you join us?”

  “So she could show her tits to me too? She always run around like that?”

  Leandra tried not to laugh but couldn’t stop herself. That must have been quite a picture M.B. painted in Rico’s mind. Quite an introduction. “M.B. can be impulsive, but she usually keeps her shirt on.”

  “Isn’t she a lawyer?” His words reeked of disgust.

  How much had he heard? “She has a small practice. Mostly real estate, a little probate work.”

  “That’s not what I heard.”

  A bit taken aback, Leandra quickly replayed their conversation in her mind. “She worked in L.A. for a couple of years as a defense attorney, but she won’t take criminal cases now.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know, Rico. I guess she found too many flaws in the system.”


  “Too many guilty people going free?”

  They were heading toward ground Leandra didn’t want to tread. “Rico, you’re going to have to ask her about that.” She’d walked near enough now to see he held something in his hand. “What have you got there?” By reflex, she reached deep into the pocket of her skirt where she always kept her favorite Tarot deck. She exhaled a quiet breath when her fingertips grazed the side of the velvet pouch.

  Besides five-star entrees and desserts, The Tarot Café offered complimentary Tarot readings to their customers. She and Synda had grown up together, cousins as close as sisters, and had made many life-changing decisions based on alternative forms of divination. The success of The Tarot Café told them they’d made the right decision to feature readings along with fabulous meals. That decision placed their café a cut above the other fine restaurants and bistros in this small vacationers’ paradise.

  Still, she frowned at the deck of Tarot cards fanned out on the bar, facedown. Apparently, one of their part-time readers had carelessly left hers behind.

  She also noticed Rico’s eyes looked darker than usual, and angrier. He thrust out his arm so she could see he once again held the card that had troubled him earlier, when she and Synda had done a reading to convince him to take Buddy’s job.

  “The Ten of Swords,” she acknowledged.

  He pointed to the deck of cards in front of him. “Is this the only fucking card in the deck?”

  “You chose it at random?”

  “You think I’d pick it on purpose?”

  She took the card from him and looked at the image of a young, dark-haired man lying atop a sarcophagus beneath a stormy sky. Ten swords pierced his body. “We went over this before, Rico. The fact you chose this card again underscores how much it’s reaching out to you. Don’t you remember what I said?”

  He didn’t have to answer. She knew he remembered but was still unwilling to accept it.

  “Like the man on the card, you were stabbed in the back, convicted of a crime you didn’t commit.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “This morning, the card came up reversed.” She looked at it again. “Like it is now. Upright, this card might mean your situation looks hopeless. You’ve reached rock bottom with no way to dig out. Reversed, it means the opposite—a new beginning. You’ve survived a disastrous situation. The worst is over.”