by Gary Parker
She said to Tess, “I’ll tell you in the morning at your office.”
“You sure you want to do this?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, come to the office about ten. Everyone takes a break then. I’ll see what I can do.”
“You mean you’ll help me?”
“We’ll see.”
“Okay, see you at ten.”
Connie hung up. She felt sure Tess would help her. Though she wouldn’t like it, Tess didn’t have it in her power to turn down her best friend. Especially if her assistance might help clear a dead man’s sullied name and save his children from a lifetime of confusion about the reason their daddy left them.
*****
In his Jaguar, Brit pulled his headphones off and smoothed down his ponytail. Okay, Red wanted to find someone. But who? He had no idea. But one thing he did know. He would follow her when she moved. If her buddy Tess found the address, Brit would go with her when she made contact with the mystery person.
He flipped open his cell phone.
“Hey, Lennie, Brit here.”
“What’s the deal?”
“Red’s on the move.”
“What you mean?”
“She just asked Tess Garner to use the good offices of the government to locate someone.”
“Her tax dollars at work.”
“Exactly.”
“Who is she trying to find?”
“Didn’t say, but if we can get ears into Tess Garner’s office, we’ll know in the morning, about ten.”
“You stay with Red. I’ll get someone moving with the ears.
And Brit—”
“Yeah?”
“Stay close to her, but don’t act until we get clearance. Since we don’t know who she’s looking for or why, we need to hold back until The Man gives clearance. You got that?”
Brit didn’t answer. Instead, he closed the phone and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. He didn’t know if he’d wait for clearance or not. If Red moved, he might move too.
CHAPTER
21
At ten o’clock sharp, Connie walked into Tess’s office on the second floor and sat down in front of her desk. Tess, her blonde hair showing a few dark roots in the glare of the sun from the window, looked up at her and nodded. “You’re right on time.”
Connie smiled but felt tension in the room and the smile faded. “Look, Tess—” she started.
“Don’t say it,” interrupted Tess, resting her chin in her hands, her elbows propped on the desk. “You don’t have to apologize. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I do know you. I stewed over this a lot last night, stayed awake and listened to Tick’s snoring. You wouldn’t ask me to do something you didn’t think absolutely necessary. I know that, so I’ll do what you want. But . . . well . . . I’ve got two conditions.”
Connie stared at her best friend and counted her blessings.
Not many people would risk their job for someone else.
“Tell me your conditions,” she said.
“Simple. First, if you find yourself in any danger, any danger whatsoever, you have to promise you’ll contact me or Tick immediately.”
“But if I get in danger and tell you, I put you in danger too.”
“Doesn’t matter,” insisted Tess, shaking her head. “If you get in danger, you come to me or Tick. Promise that or I won’t help you, your choice.”
Connie closed her eyes. She didn’t like this. But if that’s what Tess wanted . . . She opened her eyes. “Okay,” she agreed.
“What else?”
“When this is over, you’ll tell Tick what you asked me to do and why. Eventually, I’ll have to tell him . . . we don’t keep secrets from each other. When I confess, I want you with me to explain it all.”
Connie leaned over the desk and took her friend’s hands.
“I’m sorry I have to ask you,” she said. “But I didn’t know where else to go. When it’s over, I’ll gladly tell Tick everything. I’ll apologize for forcing you to do this. I . . . I know he’ll forgive you.”
Satisfied, Tess squeezed Connie’s hands, then sat up straight and faced her computer screen. “Okay,” she said.
“Who’s the mystery person?”
Connie stood and situated her chair where she could also see the computer. Then, her heart racing, she said, “It’s a woman. . . . and I’ve seen . . . seen two names for her. One possibility is Sandra Lunsford. The other is Sandra Richards. See if you can find either one of them.”
“Problem is I’ll probably find several, maybe more than that. You got a middle name?”
“No name, but an initial. E. Sandra E. Last address 110 Maple Road in Columbia, Missouri.”
Tess clicked the computer mouse. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s start with just a few states in the search field. Like maybe Missouri, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Iowa, Kentucky, Kansas, and Illinois. Narrow things down a smidge.”
She brought up the screen and entered the data. Another screen appeared. Tess clicked the mouse again, then keyed in a password. Another security check came up. She identified herself with another password.
With security clearance that gave her access to all but the most sensitive information in the Social Security system, it wasn’t difficult to find what she wanted. Within minutes, a screen full of names appeared. Connie and Tess stretched forward in their chairs, their eyes scanning the list for a Sandra E.
Lunsford. Eleven S. E. Lunsfords showed up. One in Ohio, two in Illinois, four in Arkansas, two each in Kansas and Iowa. All but three were men.
“Can you check the ages” asked Connie. “That should narrow it a bit more.”
Tess hit a few strokes on the keyboard. “Let’s see . . . we got one at seventy-six, one at thirty, and one at nineteen.”
Connie shook her head. “Not her,” she said. “This woman is around forty.”
Tess turned and stared at her. “About Jack’s age?”
Connie didn’t respond. Tess concentrated on the computer again.
“We got six ‘Sandras,’” she said. “Hold on though. Only one of them with an ‘E.’ initial.”
“What’s her age?” Connie asked, her face flushed.
“Let’s see . . . here it is . . . no . . . not it . . . she’s eighty-four years old.”
Tess looked at Connie for direction. “You want to stay with Lunsford and increase the number of states we search or you want to try Richards?”
For a moment, Connie didn’t answer. Instead, she rubbed her forehead and tried to connect the dots to everything she knew so far. Lunsford came to Jefferson City from somewhere.
But where? Not Columbia, probably not even Missouri. If Jack had an old flame or a family member that close, she would have sensed it over the years. Then where?
One answer kept jabbing at her. Las Vegas. Jack wrote a check to a private investigator who lived in Las Vegas. In Morrison’s bedroom, she found pictures of Jack and Sandra and an elderly man. If she had to choose one place to look for the answer to this mystery, she would go to Las Vegas, Nevada.
She turned to Tess. “Try Richards,” she said. “And try it in Nevada.”
Tess rolled her eyes. “Back to Vegas?” she asked.
Connie nodded. “Back to Vegas.”
Tess keyed in the commands. The computer clicked in response. Tess and Connie stared at the screen. “We got two ‘Sandra E. Richards’ in Vegas,” said Tess, working to check the ages. “One is twenty-seven and one is fifty-two.” She rolled back in her seat, waiting for more instructions.
“Try all of Nevada,” said Connie. “She might not actually live in Vegas.”
Tess obeyed. Less than a minute later, the screen flipped up a name and an address. “Sandra E. Richards. 5301 Black Canyon Road, Black Canyon, Nevada.”
“You got an age on that one?” asked Connie, her blood pressure rising.
“Let’s see . . . hang on . . . there it is . . . thirty-nine years old!”
Connie slapp
ed Tess on the back. “It’s got to be her!” she shouted. “No doubt about it. Where’s Black Canyon? Is it near Las Vegas? Have you got a map in here anywhere?”
“Whoa,” said Tess, her tone calmer than Connie’s. “Don’t go off half-cocked here. This woman sure looks like a hit, but you don’t know for certain. Here, let’s get a phone number, maybe you can—”
Connie touched Tess on the shoulder. “A phone number is fine,” she said. “But I can’t call her. She . . . well, she . . . ” She paused, not sure what else to say.
“Spit it out, Connie. Who is this woman?”
“I think you know,” said Connie, exhaling slowly. “This is the woman who told Luke Tyler she and Jack were lovers.”
“But we don’t believe that for a second!” protested Tess.
“Jack was too fine a Christian for that, he would never—”
“You don’t have to defend him to me,” interrupted Connie.
“But you need to know I found a video that showed Jack with this woman. Plus, and here’s the strangest part, I found out she and Jack went to high school together, graduated the same year.
So—”
“So you’ve had reason to wonder,” Tess summed it up, not asking about the source of the video.
“Exactly. I’ve had lots of reason to wonder. That’s why I can’t call her. I mean . . . how do you call a woman and say, ‘Hey, did you have an affair with my dead husband?’ You can’t do it.”
Tess didn’t respond for several seconds. But then she stood and walked to her window. The morning sun shone through the glass and lit up her blonde hair as she stared outside. When she turned back to Connie, her eyes were gentle.
“You have to go see her,” she said. “No way around it.”
Connie nodded. “My sentiments. The only way to the bottom of this is through Black Canyon. Meet Sandra Richards face-to-face.”
Tess stepped to her and took her hands. “I know you’re going to say ‘no,’ but I want to offer anyway. Let Tick go with you.”
Connie smiled, but not from levity. “You know I can’t do that. This is between me and Richards.”
“Then let me go with you.”
“Same answer. Besides, you have to stay with the kids.”
“Mrs. Everhart could do that.”
“How would you explain it to Tick?”
“I’ll tell him I want to spend a couple of days with my best buddy. He’ll say, ‘Go do it.’ Come on, let me go with you.”
Connie considered it. She would love to have Tess along to lift her spirits and keep her strong. But, unfortunately, Tess didn’t know everything—didn’t know about Jack’s notebook or the baseball. Didn’t know about Reed Morrison’s death. She didn’t need to know all this. The less she knew, the safer for her.
Was going to Nevada safe? Sure . . . maybe . . . perhaps. Connie didn’t know. That uncertainty meant she couldn’t allow Tess to go.
“I can’t Tess,” she whispered. “I . . . want to . . . but I just can’t.”
Tess opened her mouth as if to speak but then didn’t.
Connie surveyed her shoes for a moment.
“Is going to Vegas safe for you?” Tess asked.
Connie continued to study her sandals. Jack directed her to Sandra Richards. He wouldn’t have done so if he thought it dangerous. For now, she felt safe. After she found Richards, she would decide what to do next. She nodded to Tess. “I think it’s safe.”
“You made me a promise,” said Tess.
“And I’ll keep it. If I find myself in any danger, I’ll let you know.”
Tess squeezed her hands, then dropped them. “You better get going,” she said. “I know you’ve got some packing to do.”
Connie nodded. “If I can catch an evening flight, I’m going tonight,” she said. “No reason to wait. Can you stay with Daniel and Katie?”
Tess grimaced. “I’ve got a small problem,” she said. “Tick wanted to take his boat to the lake for a couple of days. It’s been a while since we took any time off.”
Connie nodded. “You do that!” she stated. “You two deserve it. I’ll send Daniel home with a friend. He’ll love me for it.”
“Sorry, but Tick has the room reserved already, we’re—”
“Hey, don’t apologize. After all you’ve done for me?”
Connie stepped across the room and embraced Tess, a small flow of tears welling up in her eyes. Tess hugged her, too, and the two friends stayed that way for several long moments, their love marked by the tears that flowed like fresh rain onto their faces.
*****
Sitting on Main Street no more than two hundred yards away from Tess Garner’s office, Brit flipped open his cell phone and reached Lennie within seconds. “Red’s headed to Nevada,” he said.
“She going to play the slots?”
“Real funny.”
“Then what’s her plan?”
“She’s going to visit a rival. A woman who claimed an affair with Jack Brandon.”
“She got a name?”
“Yeah, Sandra Richards, maybe Lunsford. Why didn’t we know about her?”
Lennie paused for a moment, and Brit imagined him buttoning and unbuttoning his coat, trying to come up with an answer. After several seconds, Lennie spoke. “Who said we didn’t?”
“You knew about her?”
“Let’s just say The Man knew. The Man knows everything.” “But you didn’t tell me.”
“No reason. She’s no threat to us as things now stand.”
Brit smoothed down the back of his ponytail and drummed a beat on the steering wheel. Lennie was holding out on him. He didn’t like that. When the time came, he would settle things with Lennie. For now, though, he would play it cool. “You want me to go to Vegas?”
“You got that right. I’ll meet you at the airport.”
Brit hung up and sagged back into his seat. When the time came, he would settle up with Lennie.
CHAPTER
22
At 9:25, Connie settled back and closed her eyes as the 747 left the ground. Goodness, what an incredible day. After leaving Tess, she had picked up some groceries and driv-en home, pulled $5,000 from her briefcase, packed for a three-day trip, instructed the kids when they came home from school, and stopped by the church for a few minutes to see Reverend Wallace. Not finding him, she spent almost thirty minutes alone in the sanctuary seeking guidance, trying to determine if she had made the right choice. Though no lightning flashed and no voices spoke, the words of Jesus reverberated again and again in her head: “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.”
Content with that word, she decided she had to forge ahead. One way or another, she knew she would never feel peaceful again unless she made this one final effort to find the truth.Now, comfortably dressed in blue jeans, a dark blue cotton blouse, and walking shoes, she watched the stars whip by in the dark outside the window and wondered what truth she would discover. Who killed Jack? Cedric Blacker through one of his hired gangsters? Sandra Richards’s irate husband? Johnson Mack or someone he paid? Or did Jack really commit suicide?
As the flight attendant served her peanuts and a soft drink, Connie turned over all the possibilities. All seemed logical in one moment, crazy the next. She tried to rest, to drop the mystery for a couple of hours, but found it impossible. The jet zoomed through the night, and her mind pushed through the theories.
A major puzzle swirled around Richards. Who was she and what was her relationship with Jack? She tried to imagine Jack in Richards’s arms but couldn’t. It made no sense. Why would Jack want her to find a woman with whom he had an affair?
Nothing made much sense right now.
Her confusion mounting, Connie rubbed her forehead and tried to clear everything out. Simply put, she didn’t know the answers to anything. The whole picture seemed as murky as the sky past her window, and she simply couldn’t see through it. As the plane began its descent, she realized matters might stay that way. She might
live and die without ever discovering what happened between Jack and Richards or what happened the night Jack died. She wondered if she could accept that outcome, wondered how it would feel to live the rest of her days with the dark cloud of the unsolved dilemma looming over her head.
Not sure, she pulled a map from the overnight bag she had under the seat and studied the area around Las Vegas. She had found Black Canyon on the map earlier in the day. It sat about fifty miles southwest of Vegas, a small town not far from the western edge of California.
The wheels of the plane skidded across the runway, and she took a deep breath. Not long now. The plane taxied to the terminal, and she rubbed her eyes. Her body shifted into overdrive, and she moved with deliberate speed off the plane to the car rental counter. After paying for the car with cash, she verified the directions to Black Canyon with the clerk and hustled from the counter into the car. Ten minutes later, she turned onto Interstate 15, thinking about Reed Morrison all the way.
Overhead, the stars continued to twinkle and the moon danced a silver waltz, but Connie barely noticed.
Pushing aside her questions, she settled in for the drive and wondered how Black Canyon came by its name. Nothing on the map indicated an answer, and she decided to waste no more energy worrying about it. She concentrated on the road. The white highway stripes cut through the bleak desert wasteland, painted arrows to the unknown. She knew she should feel scared, but she didn’t. In spite of everything, the adrenaline pumping through her system pushed fear to the side. Right now she wanted to stand nose-to-nose with Sandra Richards and demand to know what connection she had to Jack Brandon.
The miles disappeared in a hurry, the distance eaten up by the twin mouths of her anger and anxiety. Intent on her impending rendezvous, Connie almost missed the turnoff to Black Canyon. At the last minute, she veered the rental car to the right, up the off ramp and into a left turn. Fifteen minutes and twelve miles later, she hit the brakes as a sign reading “Black Canyon” loomed before her. Two red lights later, she stopped and asked a convenience store operator how to find Black Canyon Drive.
“You’re not far from it,” said the man. “What address you want?”
