I'll Find You

by Nancy Bush

  Now, she wished she’d fought harder to be part of the posse leaving for Miami. It was so unfair! But Andre had asked her directly and what could she do?

  She would have liked to be there when Teresa got her comeuppance. She suspected Teresa might have to die. What other punishment would fit her crime? Surely, they wouldn’t bring her back?

  No. Teresa was done for. Had to be.

  And here she was, twiddling her thumbs and waiting. Recalling her earlier plan to tell on them all to Robert Lumpkin, she shook her head. She could do that in a heartbeat to the other handmaidens, but she couldn’t risk losing Andre.

  Maybe you can think of a way to rid us of Robert Lumpkin. . . .

  Well, she didn’t possess the same arsenal as Teresa had in looks and sexual allure, but she had a brain and a wild imagination.

  Smiling coldly to herself, she went back into her bedroom to get ready. She knew Lumpkin’s cell number, and he knew hers as well, but if she called him from a pay phone and played a game of hide-and-seek, it might work.

  Halfway across the bay to Pointe du Bout and West’s hotel, Callie began to feel she should have rethought going out with him tonight. West was too damned good-looking by half, and his undeniable attraction coupled with the heat and exotic beauty of Martinique had awakened the adventurous part of herself, that same part that had been sure marriage to Jonathan would be a good idea. If she knew what was good for her, she’d keep that part far away from West Laughlin. Since he’d burst into her life the day before and they’d embarked on this uneasy partnership, he’d circled her thoughts in ways unhealthy to her well-being. Their relationship needed to begin and end with Tucker.

  She glanced over at him. He’d taken a taxi to her place and when she’d protested that she could have met him at the Bakoua, he’d said he was in the neighborhood anyway. He was in tan pants and a dark blue shirt that she’d noticed made his eyes even bluer, and she’d made a point of not looking at him directly as they decided to catch the ferry rather than take a taxi. Now he was standing beside her at the ferry’s rail, lost in his own thoughts, the wind tossing his hair. The heavy hum from the ferry’s engines and the loud and constant splashes of water as they cleaved their way forward made Callie raise her voice to be heard.

  “What were you doing ‘in the neighborhood’?” she asked.

  “I get better phone reception in Fort-de-France, for some reason. I was talking to my ex-partner.”

  “About what’s going on here?” She spread her palms to include the area at large.

  “About Teresa. She met my brother in Los Angeles, so I asked him to find out where she was living before she was married. Her maiden name’s DuPres.”

  “What happens if you find her?” she asked.

  Strands of hair whipped in front of her face and she tried to brush them aside. She froze when West reached forward with one finger and slid soft filaments away from her lips. “I want to look her in the eye and ask her about Tucker, and Stephen, and Edmund Mikkels.”

  “Mikkels is the man who accidentally shot your brother.”

  “Victoria would tell you it wasn’t an accident, but that’s probably a fantasy on her part. She thinks Teresa and Edmund were involved, and that might be closer to the truth.”

  “It’s pretty hardcore to set up your husband’s murder.”

  “Teresa may have just left with Tucker to get her life together. On the other hand, she could be purposely keeping him away from the Laughlins. I just want to know.”

  “She is his mother, for better or worse,” Callie pointed out. “If I thought someone was trying to take Sean from me, I’d commit murder before I let it happen.”

  “If I pushed Aimee harder . . . put the bracelet in her hand, say, told her she could keep it if she gave Teresa up . . . maybe then she’d tell us.”

  Callie’s gaze was trained on the waters of the bay and the horizon. “I didn’t get the impression it’s up to you to decide what happens to the bracelet.”

  “You got that right. Victoria would have a cow if she thought I was giving it up.”

  “But you’d do it anyway.”

  “Sure. Whatever it takes. I’m only helping Victoria because we have the same basic goals: to find Teresa and make certain Tucker’s safe. I’m out of her plans to win custody.”

  “She’s his great-grandmother and wants custody?”

  “He’s a Laughlin.”

  “But how does that work, I mean, if she succeeds? Tucker’s an energetic boy and she’s how old?”

  “Eighty-three.”

  “And there’s no one in between who might be . . . more suited?”

  “There’s Talia, Stephen’s mother.”

  He said it so carefully, she sensed he was trying hard not to give his feelings away, yet his very effort was more telling than words. “You don’t like her.”

  “I don’t know her. I don’t know any of them, and that’s just the way I like it.”

  “You like being the black sheep.”

  “Maybe a little,” he said after a moment.

  “Tell me more about your family history,” she said. “Who are the Laughlins and all that.”

  “Didn’t find enough on the Internet?” he asked, a small smile teasing his lips.

  “You were the one who pointed out the site I was on wasn’t giving me the whole story.”

  He nodded. “My grandfather started Laughlin Ranch. Bought up the land in the thirties from farmers who were defaulting on their loans during the Depression. He was ruthless and smart. A real pain in the ass.”

  “That a trait that runs in the family?”

  A quick smile. “I’d have to say yes. Laughlin Ranch is a cattle ranch, one of the biggest in California, right there in size and proximity to the Harris Ranch. You know that one?”

  The Harris Ranch in the San Joaquin Valley between Los Angeles and San Francisco was one of the largest in the nation. They shipped beef all over the world. If the Laughlins’ was even half the size of the Harris Ranch, it would be enormous.

  “I know it,” she said. How could she not? Drive that stretch of I-5 and the section with the cow manure stench went on for miles. You couldn’t have a hundred thousand head of cattle without it.

  “My grandfather expanded and competed with Harris Ranch, even to the point of building an inn with a restaurant and gift shop, just like them. The main Laughlin house is a two-story ranch. Big, with miles of fences. I spent some time there as a kid. My father would take me upon occasion, and Stephen and I would run all over the place. My grandparents didn’t like it, but they just stayed out of the way whenever I was there. I didn’t catch on to this for years, but by the time I figured it out, I wasn’t going there anymore anyway. My mother put her foot down. I think she got over Craig, my father, pretty damn quick when he bent to my grandparents’ wishes. Saw him for what he was instead of what she wanted him to be. She only allowed him to take me to the ranch, mainly because she’s always liked horses and wanted me to have that experience.”

  “But you got the Laughlin name.”

  “Some kind of bargain that my father insisted upon, apparently. But Mom didn’t like them much. Any of them. After she was let go, she was hired by a veterinary clinic, working with large animals, and she married one of the vets and changed her name, so we never had the same one anyway.”

  “Does your grandmother run the ranch now?”

  “In essence, though not on a day-to-day basis. She wanted Stephen to run it, but he wasn’t in love with the idea. He was more interested in investments and numbers, that kind of thing. He saw the ranch’s value, of course, but he was never hands-on like my grandfather and father. He came to me a couple of years ago and asked if I’d be interested in taking over.”

  “Really? That was for him to say?”

  “Hell, no, but he thought he could convince Victoria. I told him he was crazy and I didn’t have any interest anyway.”

  “Who runs it on a day-to-day basis?”

  “Mai
n foreman’s name is Stutz. He’s been around for years.”

  Callie nodded. She’d seen the name on the website. Even though West was repeating some of what she’d just learned about his family, it was interesting to hear his take on it. “Your father died in a car accident?”

  “Yeah. He and Stephen’s mother, Talia, were driving home from dinner after drinking too much. They were in a fight, apparently, that started at the restaurant. He was weaving and eventually drove off the road. She survived. He didn’t.”

  “Oh.” Callie thought back to her own accident once again, feeling sweat collect along her spine and her hands go cold. With an effort she pushed the memory aside, compartmentalizing it, storing it under lock and key on a shelf in her mind.

  “My father shouldn’t have been behind the wheel. It was totally his fault. I went to the memorial service, but it was clear I wasn’t wanted. My mother warned me, but I went anyway. After that I learned my lesson and stayed away from Stephen and his family.”

  “So, when Victoria called you about Teresa . . . ?”

  “It was the first time I’d heard from her since Stephen’s death. Actually, pretty much the first time she’d called me directly. I was surprised, to say the least, when she identified herself. I went to see her just for the kick of it, in the beginning. What the hell, I figured. She’s a stone-cold bitch, but it was so out of character I was interested.”

  The memory made his mouth twitch with repressed humor. “I’ll introduce you to Victoria. She lives on the ranch, but she’s no rancher. She’s more like her name: rigid, uptight, Victorian.”

  “When would this mythical introduction take place?”

  His gaze slid over her face. “If I can find Teresa and work a deal with her, that’s probably where Tucker will end up. I figured you’d want to keep in touch.”

  “Of course. It’s a lot of ifs, though.”

  “One way or another, we’re going to make sure Tucker’s safe.”

  Callie tried to imagine how she would fit into Tucker’s life but couldn’t. “Why are you the black sheep?” she asked. “I mean why, specifically?”

  “I think I just explained it.”

  “So, it’s just because your mother wasn’t married to your father? It wasn’t anything you did.”

  “You’re trying to make a distinction between a bastard and a black sheep. The Laughlins consider it one and the same. Craig had to make a choice, and he chose his wife and Stephen.”

  “He could have still kept you as part of the family,” Callie said.

  “Not if he wanted to share in everything Laughlin, which he did. He wasn’t about to let his brother, Benjamin Jr., inherit everything. According to my mother, there was always fierce competition between them.”

  “So, your father ignored both you and your mother, then spent a lot of his time fighting with his brother over money?”

  He shrugged. “Craig and Ben Jr. were antagonists, near as I can tell.”

  “But you and your half brother were close?”

  “Stephen and I were friends,” West allowed. “Not really close, but we kept in contact. It wasn’t brother against brother, like Craig and Ben Jr.”

  “What happened to Ben Jr., is he still around?”

  “Nope. He had a falling out with the family—I don’t know exactly what happened—but he was practically excommunicated by my grandparents. Made my father happy, though. Craig got what he wanted all along: to be the only Laughlin heir. After my grandfather died and it was just Victoria in charge, Craig was worried that there would be some forgiveness handed out. He made another halfhearted attempt to contact me. Said he wanted me to be a part of the ranch with Stephen. I was working my way up to detective at the LAPD and told him to go screw himself. Again, Victoria would have never allowed it anyway.”

  “So, when your father died, Stephen was the only heir.”

  “There was some provision in the will for me, but I refused it. Now, I guess it will all go to Tucker once my grandmother dies.”

  “Does Teresa know that? She must.”

  “It wasn’t any kind of secret. Maybe that’s why she’s stashed Tucker with Aimee, waiting for him to grow up a little. As the Mama Bear, she would be in a good position to run things eventually, so maybe she’s just biding her time until Victoria dies.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you really believe that,” Callie ventured.

  “I think it’s a little too long term for Teresa to plot. After Stephen’s death, I think she just ran.”

  Callie thought of William Lister and Derek and Diane. All she’d heard about for the last year was Jonathan’s will and how they felt things were unfair. “What if your grandmother changed her will?”

  “What? To cut out her great-grandson? No way. Victoria wants to leave everything to him.”

  “But if Teresa were plotting to get her hands on some of the Laughlin estate after Victoria dies, then she would need to make certain Tucker was safe,” Callie said.

  He nodded.

  “Well, he’s not safe with Aimee. Not completely.”

  “Maybe Teresa doesn’t know that. Like I said, if she’s planning that far ahead, I’d be surprised.”

  “But your grandmother’s health is good,” Callie said.

  “Far as I know. She’s certainly still as imperative as ever.”

  The ferry’s engines turned to a low whine as it slowed and aimed for the dock. Small, round lightbulbs were strung in loops from pole to pole, throwing illumination on the people lined up to catch the ferry back. It was after eight o’clock and Callie suddenly felt famished.

  They caught a cab for the short ride to the hotel. There was a steel drum band on a dais at one end of the outdoor patio and an older couple was swaying in each other’s arms, though there wasn’t really a dance floor. Tables were lit by candles and the dark water of the bay shimmered beneath the outdoor lights. Callie and West were seated close to the water and she could hear the lapping waves and smell the dank, briny scent. She’d worn a tan, sleeveless dress and flat sandals, but looking around at some of the other women she felt a little underdressed.

  “I think I’ll find the ladies’ room before we order,” she said.

  “What would you like to drink?”

  “White wine.”

  “You’re not going to leave, are you?”

  She gave him a look and saw the flash of white of his smile. “No.”

  “Because I’m buying.”

  “I’ll be back. I promise.”

  She walked inside, thinking about yesterday’s escape to the ferry and Tucker. It hadn’t been that many hours ago, but now she trusted West Laughlin, at least in regard to Tucker. It was herself she couldn’t trust now, her dangerous attraction to the man.

  Her phone rang inside her carryall. William. Finally. She slowed her steps and answered, moving toward a corner of the bar that was unoccupied as the man and woman who’d been seated at the nearest corner table were just leaving.

  “There you are,” she said into the receiver.

  “I haven’t got anything further on the Laughlins, if that’s why you’re calling.”

  “In part. I just . . .” Now that she didn’t feel quite so out of control about Tucker and West Laughlin, she didn’t really have anything to say.

  “Have you decided when you’re coming back?” he asked, filling in the gap. “I can set up a meeting with Derek and Diane for next week.”

  “I’m still not sure about my travel plans, so don’t do it yet.”

  “So, this is still about your interest in the Laughlins.” He sounded wary.

  “In a way.”

  “Callie, I should inform you that I can’t be your lawyer and also be Derek and Diane’s, at least in this instance where you’re fighting each other.”

  “Oh, you’re choosing them,” she said in surprise. She should have expected as much, but it got to her.

  “They feel there’s been a misappropriation of funds. Not by you, per se. By Jonathan. I tol
d them I would represent them in the matter.”

  He didn’t sound happy about it, but that hardly helped Callie. “Duly noted,” she said dryly.

  “You should check with your accountant, when you get back.”

  “Jonathan’s accountant,” Callie corrected, thinking of the man she’d only met once.

  “Find out about Jonathan’s financial dealings. It would be to your benefit to come back soon and get this resolved,” he said.

  “Thanks for the advice.”

  She hung up just as she felt someone come up close behind her. She edged away, feeling hurt and angry. William Lister, though not exactly a friend, was someone she’d felt she could count on. He’d been the Cantrell family attorney and that apparently did not extend to her, now that Jonathan was gone. He’d defected to Derek and Diane, the only true Cantrells left.

  She started to turn around when a male voice with an American accent whispered harshly in her ear, “There you are. Don’t move, or I’ll bring the police down on you, you thieving whore.”

  “What?” She automatically tried to step forward but the corner table was in her way. To her alarm, his hand gripped her hip, holding her in place.

  “No, don’t turn around. Just ease yourself to the side and walk out through the front doors. I’m right behind you.”

  “There’s—this is a mistake.”

  “I saw you with tonight’s date. I have a gun. Don’t make me use it.”

  A gun? He put slight pressure on her hip to turn her toward the front of the hotel. She didn’t fight it. Her gaze ran wildly over the other customers around the bar, hoping one of them would notice something was amiss. What if she just screamed? Never get in a car with a kidnapper. Don’t let them take you. You have a much better chance staying alive.

  “I don’t know you,” she said, her voice shaky.

  “Stop it. You’re making me angry. You don’t want to make me angry.”

  His voice was cold and hard. Her brain had practically shut down, but she got that he thought she was someone else. Teresa.

  “My name’s Callie Cantrell.” She tried to turn to look at him but he was a brick wall of anger.