by Ken Casper
“Girlfriend, this is the new me.” She waved her hands and extended them in a presentation gesture.
Catherine had noticed she’d put on weight, filled out. “Good. I like the new you even better than the old one.”
The waiter left. Melissa fell back against the booth cushion. “This whole turn of events has been incredible, bizarre. I can’t believe it’s really happened.”
Catherine had to agree. She’d arrested her nephew for her husband’s murder, put her daughter on the road to recovery from being raped by her uncle, uncovered an international band of terrorists, and found love in a most unlikely man.
Melissa, on the other hand, would probably have been ready to sing Free at last, free at last, were it not for her son facing trial for murder.
"I talked to the D.A. yesterday,” Catherine said. “He's willing to lower the charges against Dante to manslaughter. With luck and good behavior, he could be out of prison in seven to ten years."
"You’re all right with that?" Melissa asked. "I mean . . . he was responsible for Jordan’s death?"
Catherine nodded. "And that’s something he'll have to live with for the rest of his life." For someone with a conscience remorse could be worse than a death sentence. She took a sip of iced tea. “The real villain is his father. I have to take consolation in knowing Tyrone will never see the outside of a prison again."
Glassy-eyed, Melissa touched her hand. "Cath, I don’t know how to thank you for being my friend.”
Catherine clasped her fingers and squeezed gently.
“How’s the spy ring investigation going?” Melissa asked a minute later. “Off the record, of course. Unless you want to give me a scoop.”
"I can tell you this, once Rialto realized he was cornered, the rat sang like a bird to save his sorry hide. Is that a mixed metaphor?"
"Who cares?" The food arrived. After the server left, Melissa commented, “I heard the names Rialto coughed up cascaded into a list of contacts and operatives in a network of terrorists that span four continents. Is that true?”
"It turned out to be a lot more widespread than anyone had anticipated.” So far, more than a hundred Al Qaeda terrorist-cell leaders have been apprehended in Europe and the U.S., but that wasn’t for publication, or that the feds had confiscated several large caches of illegal weapons, explosives and chemical agents.
"What about the M.E.? Was he involved?"
Catherine shook her head. "Cliburne Vale didn't have a clue. The man was in over his head. The Peter Principle at work—promoted to his level of incompetence. One of the people in his office was on Rialto's payroll. He resigned last week."
"And William Summers, the guy who started all this?”
Summers was the man in the deli who’d approached Jordan to tell him the paper had the numbers wrong. If he hadn’t, or if he hadn’t done it in such a public place, Jordan would still be alive, but then, so would Summers.
Catherine nodded. "He really was an innocent victim. Eddie Fontanero visited him on Rialto's orders, coaxed him into climbing the ladder, then pushed him off the roof. It was just bad luck that the old guy didn't die instantly but lingered in a coma for a year."
They ate in silence for a pensive minute.
"How are Kelsey and her boyfriend getting on?” Melissa asked. “Any new developments?"
The night of Tyrone's arrest, Catherine had taken Derek aside and explained to him what Tyrone had done. Tears spilled down the young man’s cheeks before he flew into a rage. Then he reined himself in and focused on Kelsey's well-being. Catherine knew at that moment he was the man she'd thought he was, and that her daughter was in safe hands. "She's making progress."
The morning after Dante's arrest, Catherine had phoned her. They'd cried over her cousin's guilt. Catherine had also relayed Derek's request to see her. Kelsey had been hesitant, but a week later he’d visited her in the garden of her retreat house in Louisiana. Kelsey called home that evening to announce that Derek still loved her and wanted to marry her. They'd both cried again.
"So she’s still in the convent?" Melissa asked.
"I have a feeling it won’t be for much longer."
Dessert arrived on separate plates, but even half portions were huge.
"I'm glad they finally cleared Rowan and restored his good name," Melissa said after savoring the first rich mouthful with her eyes closed.
Catherine smiled. Throughout the entire ordeal Jeff had been there for her. As a friend, an advisor, and a lover in those still moments when doubts and demons haunted her, when what she needed most was to be held.
"I heard he was offered his old job in homicide back. Is he going to take it?"
"He chose early retirement instead," Catherine explained. "Financially he's doing very well as a P.I., and he enjoys the independence it gives him."
Melissa had a gleam in her eye. "And if the two of you get married, his being in your chain of command could raise questions of conflict of interest." When Catherine said nothing, she followed up with, "Has he asked you to marry him?"
"We've talked about it," Catherine admitted, "but he agrees with me that we shouldn't do anything until we know Kelsey is all right with it."
“You’ve got a good one there, Cathy. Don’t let him get away. Oh, and when you see him next, ask him if he’s got any single white male friends who might be interested in meeting a very grateful big black mama.”
Catherine laughed so hard she had to remind herself they were in a public place. It would definitely tick off her in-laws and probably earn Ty time in solitary when he found out about it.
As for Jeff, he’d promised to wait—a lifetime, if necessary. She hoped it wouldn't take quite that long. Her daughter would never be the same innocent she had been before her uncle had violated her, but Jeff was right. She was strong. She would come out of this horrible experience even stronger, especially with Derek by her side.
LATE THAT AFTERNOON, after remaking the bed, showering and dressing, applying fresh makeup and the cologne she wore just for Jeff, Catherine joined him in the living room. She was collecting her purse from the hall table, when she caught him leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "What?"
"I just like watching you."
A warm feeling flooded through her. She walked up to him and planted a soft kiss on his lips, then ducked away when he tried to pull her into his arms. "Ready?"
His eyes gleamed. "What do you think?"
She grinned. "I think we'd better go, or we'll never make it to dinner, and after such a vigorous afternoon, you must be hungry."
"Ravenous."
Still laughing, she patted his cheek.
Ten minutes later, they arrived at the seafood and steak house, where the mayor was hosting a banquet. As he was escorting her to the front door, Jeff pointed to the headline on the Houston Sentinel displayed in a newspaper box. "City Proudly Honors Police Chief."
A happy ending of sorts, but one that was bittersweet.
She loved the man holding her hand, loved him in a way she couldn't have imagined six months ago. She would never forget Jordan, nor did she want to. He'd given her a child, nearly twenty-five years of happiness and much, much more, including the strength to go on without him.
And Jeff? He made her feel things she thought she'd lost forever, made her want things she still wasn't sure she deserved. He didn't just satisfy needs, he filled her with a sense of power and joy.
As he opened the door and allowed her to pass in front of him, she made a vow. She'd do her best to make him happy, to be worthy of the gift of love he'd given her.
Continue reading for an excerpt from Ken Casper's upcoming release,
The First Family of Texas
Coyote Springs, Texas
MICHAEL FIRST TURNED to his sister with venom in his eyes. “You did what?” His voice boomed off the walls of her house on the eastern edge of the Number One Ranch.
“I sold my share to the bank,” Kerry s
aid calmly.
Michael’s knuckles went white as his fingers curled into tight fists. “Just like that, without a word to anyone? If you wanted money so damn badly why didn’t you give us a chance to buy you out?”
She laughed, but there was more bitterness in the sound than humor. “Believe me, you couldn’t possibly have matched Homestead’s generous offer.”
He knew it was true. Her share wouldn’t have made any difference in the family’s common ownership of the ranch, but combined with the forty-five percent Homestead Bank and Trust already held, it gave them controlling interest. He was afraid to ask how many millions of dollars she’d received for her critical six percent.
He ran a hand through his thick dark hair. “You’ve told Dad, of course.” His tone was filled as much with sorrow as anger.
“The bank said they’d notify him in a day or so. I understand they’ll also be sending someone out to evaluate the way the place is being run.”
Michael stared hard at his sister, then paced the narrow confines of the cluttered living room. At last he sank into an easy chair, his hands dangling over the grease-stained arms.
“So you’re taking the easy way out. I should have guessed.” He threw his head back against the cushion, squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. “I know you and Dad don’t get along, Kerry, that the two of you are always butting heads, and I understand why.” He frowned at her and added softly, “But I didn’t know you hated him.”
Leaning against the edge of the bar next to the entertainment center, his sister sipped her glass of blood-red wine, apparently unmoved. “In three months, when school’s over, Brian and I are out of this dump.”
The two-story house was well built and fair-sized, hardly a hovel. She had a cleaning service come in twice a week to shovel the place out, too. Michael was tempted to tell her it looked like a slum because that was the way she chose to live. But what was the point? “Where are you going?”
She smirked. “What do you care?”
“About you? I don’t. You can go to hell as far as I’m concerned. But your son is my nephew. Family may not mean anything to you, but it does to me.”
“Ah, sweet brotherly love.”
“What you’ve done is despicable, Kerry. You’ve given up your right to love.”
For a fleeting moment he saw her lips quiver before she pressed them together defiantly.
Michael rose to his feet and stared down at her. “Next week is Dad’s birthday. We’re planning a big bash like we do every year. Brian is welcome.” He strode to the door, tugged it open and was about to step outside, when he turned one last time to his sister. “I think it would be wise if you stayed away.”
COMING SOON!
