A Fortune to Die For (White Oak - Mafia Series Book 1)

by O'Connor, Liza

  He sighed and stared at the ceiling. “People like Drecker don’t need to be told you aren’t going to make an issue over the matter. They assume it to be the case. They rip off people every day, none of whom like it, but most have the sense to shut their mouth and move on.”

  “Why would he assume I wouldn’t go to the police? I didn’t know he was mafia.”

  “Had you realized you didn’t have the keys to your car and gone to Drecker’s dealership, which doesn’t even sell Subaru’s, they would have denied ever seeing you before. When the police checked out the car you claimed to have bought, it would have come up stolen. If the cop works with Drecker, he would have warned you to walk away and stop making false accusations against prominent businessmen, or if you preferred, he could arrest you for car theft.”

  “Wow. He probably does get by with this all the time. But after a while, wouldn’t everyone know better than to buy anything from him?”

  “Which is why Traver brought him the new girl in town.”

  “New stupid girl…” she muttered.

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her from the kitchen back to the living room. “You aren’t stupid. You just aren’t crime savvy. And living in Danville, you didn’t have to be. Other than a few crooked councilmen and a rowdy bunch of teens, your community has to be one of the most law-abiding towns I’ve ever seen.”

  She’d barely sat on the couch when her phone rang. He looked at the caller and frowned. “It’s your lawyer.”

  She held out her hand, but he wouldn’t pass it over. “You cannot mention anything I’ve told you.”

  “I wasn’t going to.”

  “No secret message taunts.”

  “Just give me the phone. I’ll be good. I’m from Danville.”

  He smiled and passed it over.

  “Hello?”

  “Meg, I got worried when you didn’t answer the phone right away.”

  “I was in the bathroom.”

  “Ah, well, I’ve managed to pull all the players together for a Wednesday meeting at noon in the governor’s conference room. The place will be secure, so you don’t need to bring your security guy.” Why was he calling Steve “security”? He knew he was FBI.

  She pressed the speaker phone, so Steve could hear. “I’ll let my ‘security guy’ know the meeting will be in a safe place, but he may still want to come.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, since my safety increases once we complete this donation, I think he’d like to check out anyone not helping to get it done.

  Steve’s brow furrowed.

  “Did he tell you that?” Joe asked.

  “No. I just get the feeling he’d like this assignment to be over.”

  “Well, I advise against him coming. It will weaken your position, which is not very strong, anyway.”

  His last statement pissed her off. “I think my position is very strong. I’m offering the state free land that will generate revenue and jobs plus a good deal of money to fund it into perpetuity.”

  “And a good many conditions, which will anger certain people.”

  “Which people?”

  “Barkman, for one. There is no way he’s going agree to hire Tess.”

  “Why didn’t you bring this up before?”

  “I have brought it up before.”

  Had she just stepped into an alternative universe? “No, you haven’t.”

  “I most certainly did in our first meeting. You evidently forgot. Not surprising with all the stuff going on in your life right now. If you want, I can handle matters from here. In fact, it might be better if you don’t attend this first meeting if you insist upon bringing security.”

  “Joe.”

  “Yes?”

  “If you have any meetings about this land donation without me, I will fire you.”

  Steve gave her a thumbs up for her hard stand.

  “What?”

  “I wish to be involved in all meetings. I understand you feel there are some I should not attend if I have security, but it’s not your say. So I want to be very clear about the consequences if you act against my wishes.”

  “Then fire me now,” he challenged.

  “I don’t want to, but if you’re telling me you won’t abide to my request that I attend all meetings, then you are fired as of now.”

  “Hold on. I never said you couldn’t come to the meetings. I just advised against bringing security.”

  “And I told you I heard your advice and chose to ignore it. So do you wish to continue this case or shall I find another lawyer?”

  “There are no other lawyers who can do this.”

  “I’m sure I can find someone who thinks he or she can.”

  “You’ll just spin your wheels and nothing will get done.”

  “Then I’ll give up on the state and open those woods as a private park.”

  “What?” he yelped.

  “I’ll make it a private park.”

  “It’ll never happen. Without the state, you can’t get roads into those woods.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised what I can do,” she growled. “Those woods go to the Mississippi River and border Wisconsin and Illinois. I can bring tourists over in small boats if necessary.”

  “Not if Iowa claims imminent domain of your lands.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “According to Jeffrey, there are Indian mounds in those woods.”

  “Possibly, given its location. But I’ll take the case all the way to Supreme Court if they try to claim any of my lands on a vague possibility there might be a mound somewhere on the property. And assuming you can find a lump or two which may or may not be mounds, you cannot take the two hundred thousand acres around it. So I can create a private park, anyway.” Now he’d riled her up, so she gave him no chance to respond.

  “But before you can claim my land, you have to find and verify there are Indian mounds, and unless Jeffrey knows exactly where they are, you could spend years searching, which you’ll have to do from the air, because until then, it’s my private property.”

  After a long pause, he replied, his voice considerably softer. “Meg, I’m not the enemy here. I’m on your side. I told you from the first time I heard your plan that I loved it.”

  Meg rolled her eyes. “Since you were stating, vehemently, why I can’t do things, I assumed you were playing devil’s advocate. So I responded to the devil.”

  Steve walked away so he could chuckle without being heard while another long pause came from her unfaithful lawyer.

  “I’ll keep you informed of all meetings,” he stated, his words curt and tense.

  “I would like a list of the attendees of the next meeting emailed to me at once.”

  “I’ll send them once the meeting is confirmed.”

  “No. Send them now.”

  “I don’t know who’s coming,” he snapped.

  “Joe. You began this conversation stating you had the meeting set up for Wednesday at noon.”

  “I was talking about a different meeting.”

  “Then send me two lists. One for the meeting on Wednesday. And one for the secret meeting you failed to mention before. And list everyone you invited to each meeting. I don’t care if you don’t know if they’ll show or not. I want to know who you invited. And if you fail to send those lists to me in the next hour, you are fired. Are we clear?”

  “You’ll have the lists,” he snapped and hung up the phone.

  She leaned back and growled.

  Steve chuckled. “You might be taken by con-artists, but you eat lawyers for breakfast.”

  “Speaking of which, I’m starving. Can we go somewhere and eat?”

  He frowned.

  “Steve, you can’t keep me in this apartment forever. If you need me to wear a Kevlar jacket, I’ll do it. But I have stuff to do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like eating, finding a new lawyer, buying some more suits as nice as this one, finding flatter shoes, getting a c
ar…unless you plan to drive me everywhere.”

  “I wasn’t planning for you to leave this apartment,” he grumbled.

  “Do you really want to take me on?” she challenged and stood up, placing her hands on her hips.

  He held his hands in surrender. “No ma’am.”

  Flipping open his phone, he called someone. “We’re going to need transport. On your way over, pick up breakfast from the place on the corner. I’m putting in an order now.”

  He hung up, muttering about being a waitress, then punched in more numbers. “I’d like to order three breakfast meals, all the same. Scrambled egg sandwich on whole-wheat, flat bread. One strip of sun-dried tomato on each. Three apples and three large bowls of oatmeal with blueberries and walnuts. Three V8s and a quart of cranberry juice. Excellent. My driver will be by to pick it up in fifteen minutes. His name is George. Yes, he’ll have money to pay for it.”

  She smiled at him. “How did you know exactly what I eat for breakfast?”

  He slapped his forehead as if he’d just been a bonehead. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  He sighed. “I placed a camera in your kitchen so I could evaluate your mail as you opened it. To be honest, I was afraid if you received another package, you wouldn’t call, given the embarrassment you felt about calling me the first time.”

  She opened her mouth to object but closed it. “I wouldn’t have called you again, so you assessed the situation correctly, but I still think you violated my rights by putting a security camera in my kitchen. Which strikes me odd since you are very strict with following protocol.”

  He banged his head against the center support post a few times while soft curses escaped. Finally, he stopped abusing his head and faced her. “Okay…full disclosure…which you can never discuss with me or anyone else again. Do I have your word?”

  She nodded, but only because she was certain he’d refuse to tell her anything unless she did.

  “We matched one of your deaths threats to a serial killer the FBI has been after for fifteen years. Unfortunately, he bounces across the country in a seemingly random fashion, making it impossible to catch him.”

  Her mouth fell open in shock, but he continued on before her brain could form any words.

  “Given the probability he would eventually show up at your house, and you requested our help, the judge granted the FBI clearance to place one camera in the kitchen where he always kills his victims.”

  She pushed herself up from the couch, her body tense and wired, ready to run. “Are you serious? I had a serial killer after me?”

  He met her eyes. “Yes. It’s why we helped you change your identity and insisted you move.”

  Her fisted hand rose. A part of her wanted to pound his rock hard chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because our top priority is to catch the serial killer. If you had warned anyone on your block of the potential danger, the media would have gotten wind of it, and the guy would’ve marked you off his list and gone on to the next victim.”

  God, this Lottery Curse just keeps on giving.

  “So did he come?” Did she cause the death of an innocent neighbor?

  “Not yet, but we have no idea how long he waits after he sends the warning letter.”

  “Maybe he came, but saw the house was empty and left.”

  “We have a blond agent living in your house.”

  “And what about my neighbors? True, they all hate me now, but they don’t deserve to die for it.”

  “He has never killed anyone but the person he sends his death letter to.”

  She opened her mouth to object, but how could she? They were trying to catch a madman! It’s not as if she would ever live there again.

  “If I’d have known, I would have cleaned up better before I left,” she muttered.

  He smiled. “You did sign a release allowing agents into your house.”

  Had she? She mentally went through the inch-deep stack of papers she signed. Yes…she had. “I thought I was giving permission to maintain the place.”

  He tilted his head in challenged.

  It did sound stupid now she said it aloud. She gripped her head and groaned. “If you didn’t have the manpower to protect me, how could you have the manpower to ensure my furnace had fuel?”

  She sighed and sat back down. “Clearly, I am naïve about the ways of the FBI, too.”

  He joined her on the couch. “I’m sorry you feel tricked. But the team has been trying to catch this guy for fifteen years, and this is the best chance we’ve ever gotten.” His hand covered her tightened fist. “I was strictly forbidden to tell you anything about this case. So if you say anything when George shows up with the food, I’ll be fired before an hour has passed.”

  She leaned against him. “How many people has he killed?”

  “Twelve. Every victim had won significant money from some form of a lottery.”

  “Man, he really hates people who don’t deserve their winnings.”

  “And in his perspective, he gives them fair warning. We believe he first writes them a letter telling them why God wants him to have the money. If they send the money, presumably God won’t smite them down.”

  His demand sounded like a thousand letters she’d received. “Has anyone ever done that?”

  “We don’t know, but I cannot imagine anyone would. Based on the letters you’ve been receiving, a lot of wackos write similar letters. However, they are assessing your box of hate mail to see if you possibly saved his original letter.”

  “But I threw those out,” she said, now angry at herself for doing so.

  His hand slipped to the small of her back and rubbed in small soothing circles. “The BSU thinks even his ‘nice’ request could possibly fall into those you kept. This guy has a lot of rage inside him, and fifteen years into his demands, he knows you are going to ignore his request for the money God wants him to have because all the others have done so. They believe it is possible his rage is apparent even in his first requests. You had about fifty letters they think are candidates.”

  She leaned into his chest, and his arms wrapped around her, soothing her panic. My name is changed. The serial killer can’t find me now. All I have to worry about is the mafia.

  “Sorry about griping about my rights. I’m glad my house can be used to potentially catch a serial killer. You know, except for the possibility of catching the creep and those two hundred thousand acres of trees I need to save, I really wish I’d never bought the damn lottery ticket.”

  He tightened his grip, and she thought his lips pressed on the top of her head again. “We’ll get you your life back. If not here, then in some other state with a new identity.”

  A loud sound came from either the kitchen or the bat cave, causing her to scream and leap up like a pond frog.

  Steve stood as well, gripping her arm. “Settle down. It’s George with breakfast. Remember what I told you.” His worried eyes studied her.

  She pantomimed zipping her lips, walked to the kitchen, and sat down on a stool next to the counter.

  A few minutes later, Steve and the guy who drove them here the day before entered.

  “You can’t remember one simple order?” George yelled at Steve.

  Meg’s mouth fell open. Oh God, they must have the bedroom-living room bugged.

  Steve gripped her shoulder and squeezed as he responded to George. “Meg, this is a member of my team, George.” He then focused on George. “Eating healthy won’t kill you, and it’s safer if there’s no indication which order is Meg’s.”

  She relaxed, now realizing Steve was being yelled at for ignoring George’s breakfast order.

  George glared at her. “What’s wrong with bacon and pancakes?”

  “Seriously?” she asked.

  He sighed and watched Steve pull out all the items from the bag. “They charged me sixty-three dollars for this shit.”

  “I’ll reimburse you,” Meg said. “And if we can
go grocery shopping, there will be even less chance of me being poisoned. Then I can get George bacon and pancakes if he really wants poor health.

  Steve chuckled. “I’ll sign off on the first part, but honestly, I like George, so I’d rather he not die of a self-inflicted heart attack.”

  She wasn’t sure if it was her offer to reimburse or Steve’s gracious response, but George lost all his annoyance and became a pleasant fellow.

  She was halfway through her breakfast when a little detail nagged its way to the top of her overloaded brain. “Oh! Sheriff Cobbs said my rental car burned up in the garage last night.”

  George slammed down his spoon and stormed toward the bat cave.

  Steve ran after him and redirected him to the bedroom.

  If she thought she was going to get by so easy, Steve’s return corrected her misconception. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me this at once?”

  Good question. She recalled the conversation right after she got off the phone with Sheriff Cobbs. “Because you scolded me about taunting the Mafia.”

  “So you thought ‘let’s not tell Steve something he needs to know’.”

  “No, I just forgot it. It’s not like we can do anything about it now. The fire evidently happened last night.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Steve yelled and slammed his hand against the doorframe.

  “I’m sorry!” she yelped.

  He breathed in deep and then let it out before speaking softly, but his hands remained fisted. “I’m not angry at you. I’m furious with Cobbs. He’s a former agent. He should have known we’d want to know the second the fire began.” His hands slowly uncurled and flattened out on the counter as he breathed in and out again. “Did he say how long the fire had been out?”

  “Actually, he said it was still burning, but they had it under control now.”

  The fingers re-curled into fists.

  “I’m really sorry I didn’t say anything.”

  “And I’m sorry I yelled at you. This is not your fault.”

  “Well, you’re angry at someone,” she muttered.

  He nodded and activated his blackberry phone. “I want a full dossier on former agent Lee Cobbs, specifically any hints of impropriety or connections to the mob… Yesterday would have been really useful, but get it to me as soon as you can. He just helped destroy a major piece of evidence.”