by DiAnn Mills
He counted to five. “What would you like for me to do?”
“How can you ask such a ridiculous question? You’re his caregiver, and I need for you to take responsibility for your grandfather’s actions.”
“I’ll talk to my grandparents.”
“He claimed he was going to the FBI with his suspicions.”
“He did. This morning.”
Marsha Leonard gasped, and Daniel was certain the additional theatrics were for his benefit. “That must be why they plan to be at the facility tomorrow afternoon. Will the press be involved? Do you have any idea what this will do to our stellar reputation?”
“I have no idea how or if an investigation will proceed. Gramps told his story, and we left. Seems odd Tom was mentioned as being scammed and now he’s gone.”
“That’s uncalled for. Was Earl of sound mind?”
“During most of the interview.”
“Surely you understand the board of directors may request his dismissal.”
“Not likely since he and Gran are paying for the entire west wing. Don’t you think the best way to disprove my grandfather’s suspicions is to reassure those concerned? Have you called a meeting of clients and families, or have you just threatened my grandfather’s care if he doesn’t comply with your demands?”
“I’ve decided to discontinue the staff interviews. The whole claim is preposterous.”
“Are you censoring the conversations of every client there? Let me give you a word of advice. Removing an Alzheimer’s victim from your facility because you don’t like what he says makes you look guilty of neglect and is inconsistent with your mission statement.”
“Removing your grandfather is not the purpose of this call.”
“It isn’t?”
“I’m asking you friend to friend.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He ended the call, stifling a frustrated sigh.
In the morning, he’d speak with Miss Leonard about his behavior and do his best to get back into her good graces.
But he’d messed up with Laurel Evertson by challenging her view of the situation. She was a skilled agent from the top of her golden head to her sensible heels. Yes, he’d noticed. She’d worn a black pantsuit with a white silk blouse, little gold hoop earrings, and just enough makeup to set off her nut-brown eyes. With a face that gorgeous, he hadn’t expected her gentleness toward Gramps. He figured she’d discard an Alzheimer’s patient’s claims as a total waste.
After all, the only reason he’d taken his grandparents to the FBI was to avoid making them find a way to get there themselves—and because of Tom’s death. Gran no longer drove . . . unless Gramps prodded her. Worse yet, Gramps might wander off in the car and get hurt. Soon Daniel must secure the locks on the front and back doors of their mammoth home. How he’d manage that feat when he didn’t live there would be a huge undertaking. Gramps’s independence meant a lot, but not as much as his grandparents’ safety and well-being.
At the next light, Daniel picked up his iPhone and pressed in Agent Evertson’s number. Apologizing wasn’t his favorite conversation, but he needed to be on her side. He’d made her angry with his insistence upon conducting his own investigation. He hadn’t changed his mind, but he didn’t need to alienate her.
The agent’s phone rang five times and rolled to voice mail. He left a brief message for her to call and offered an apology for his curt behavior earlier. Gramps would call his words “eating crow.” Daniel thought it was being smart.
Agent Evertson looked familiar, but he couldn’t figure out why. Once home, he googled her name and his recollection fell into place.
Special Agent Laurel Evertson’s undercover work and testimony had put away Morton Wilmington five years ago. A drop for all the crimes assigned to him and his organization. Although many called him Robin Hood because of his generous contributions to charities, he was convicted of one murder and suspected of several others.
Daniel remembered the extensive media coverage. She and Wilmington were engaged, and she gained access to his computer files and aided in an FBI arrest. Upon his sentencing, he threatened to kill her.
Tough gal to stay in the game. Maybe Daniel was wrong about her.
CHAPTER 8
6:35 A.M. FRIDAY
Daniel yawned and swung his pickup into Silver Hospitality’s parking area with Gran in the rear and Gramps beside him. He’d stayed up until after midnight researching insurance fraud and rose before five this morning, pumping life into his body with espresso, to continue the same online probe. He found an FBI press release about the crimes involving the same kind of scam, which told him agents were investigating these.
Nothing online resembled the company, but complaints surfaced from those who claimed they or loved ones had been swindled out of large sums of money, all involving the elderly. Some comments indicated the victims had a form of dementia. But no other deaths.
He was onto something. The origin wasn’t evident in every post, but Florida hit the radar in at least two. That made sense since it was the retirement capital of the US. The FBI had more information than he did, and for sure Gramps had uncovered a crime. Today’s visit from the bureau might provide solid answers.
Reality hit hard. Whoever had planned an elaborate scheme to defraud the elderly would make sure their rears were covered. Daniel believed Gran and Gramps were in danger.
Were they safe at Silver Hospitality? The facility boasted cutting-edge care from safety technology to the full-time nutritionist. But someone had gotten inside. Or worked the inside. Would the FBI’s interest in the case keep his grandparents from danger? Fear snaked up his spine.
“I was thinking, why don’t you spend today at home?” he said. “We can turn around. I’ll make a few calls and—”
“I’ll keep an eye on Gramps,” Gran said. “Won’t let him out of my sight.”
“My point is you shouldn’t have to.”
“The man who made money is too smart to return.”
He swung around to see the lift of her chin. Oh, he recognized her stubborn stance. “Your safety is my number one priority.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s secure and—”
“We’re going on a picnic today.” Gramps unfastened his seat belt.
Daniel would not challenge him. “With your lovely wife?”
Gramps hoisted his backpack, which held a journal and a framed picture of Gran on her eighteenth birthday. “She’s not my wife yet. But I’m fixin’ to pop the question today.”
“Gee, thanks, Earl,” Gran said. “Who am I? Or does it really matter?” She laughed, but her response didn’t ease Daniel’s stress. She faked it, and he knew it.
“Gran, I’m serious,” Daniel said.
“I am too.” She opened the truck door. “You do your job, and I’ll handle Earl.”
“Does Miss Leonard have a clue you carry an S&W in your purse?”
Gran frowned. “It’s none of her business. We old people aren’t frisked. Right now, I need to get Earl inside. Are you coming?”
“I’m right with you.”
“Good,” Gramps said. “I don’t want to miss a minute of today.”
“I’ll be texting,” Daniel said.
“I’ll respond if I have time and the subject is important,” she said. “Oh, here are your flowers.” She handed him a bouquet of red roses that he planned to give to Marsha Leonard. The woman was a little odd—he never seemed to know if she was in a good mood. Charm and flowers should help his cause.
When his grandparents had settled into the multipurpose area to greet their friends, Daniel waited at the front desk to talk to Miss Leonard before leaving for work. She looked like she’d soon be eligible for a retirement center herself. He gave her his most dazzling smile and handed her the roses. “Are we friends again?”
She inhaled the roses. “I suppose, but you can be impossible sometimes. I was really angry last night.”
“I’m sorry to have upset you.” And he was.
&n
bsp; “The roses cover a multitude of sins,” she said.
“That makes me irresistible.”
She pursed her mouth for a less-than-friendly look, then sighed. “Okay, Officer Irresistible, how can I help you?”
He showed her the brochure from Lifestyle Insurance. “Have you seen this before?”
She read it and handed it back to him. “I’ve never seen or heard of the company. There’s no contact information.”
Daniel nodded. “Gramps said a man gave it to him.”
“While here?”
“Yes.”
“The mysterious salesman who took their money and ran?”
“I’m simply trying to put what my grandparents have said in the right perspective. Learn the truth.”
“I’d like that too. But I’m no help.” She glanced at the security cameras. “These don’t lie, and neither do our visitor ledgers.”
No point in bringing up possible computer access to security cameras or the half-staff mode during the afternoon. “I would hate to find another center.”
She paled, no doubt thinking about the wing his grandparents were funding. “That won’t be necessary. The FBI’s visit this afternoon has shaken our board of directors, and one of our staff members quit, probably because of your interview. I’d hate to lose more trained people when they fear for their jobs.”
“People are nervous when they have something to hide. Law enforcement are professionals who know how to be respectful. Did anyone complain about my questions?”
“No.”
“My point, Miss Leonard. Who left?”
“Liz Austin.”
Not much of a loss in his opinion. “Did she give a reason?”
Marsha shook her head. “Said she found a better position.”
8:30 A.M. FRIDAY
Abby Hilton closed her Kindle case and allowed her heavy eyelids to shut for just a moment. Silver Hospitality was quiet, and she hated it when her blood sugar dropped, dragging her down when she’d rather be doing a plethora of other things.
Shaking loose of the dream state, she reached into her pocket for a packet of almonds. Should have known better than to eat an apple turnover for breakfast. A little protein and she’d be back to finishing up the trilogy. She’d tried a couple of steampunk and vampire novels, but she preferred fantasy with strong symbolism that made sense in the real world. The stories kept her mind occupied while her heart broke for Earl.
Yesterday’s meeting at the FBI weighed on her thoughts. If she believed for one minute those agents were making fun of Earl, she would have unloaded a box of shells on them. But she trusted Daniel, the light of her and Earl’s life.
Time to exercise and walk off the stress while the other old folks played games. Glancing at Earl, she smiled at his setting up the domino board. Two women chatted and both were watching a John Wayne Western. Poor dears. Did either of them understand what was happening?
“Enjoy your movie,” she said to the women. “Can I get you anything?”
“Coffee would be nice,” one woman said. “Add a little rum, would you, honey?”
A staff member passed through and acknowledged the woman’s request. “I’ll get you a fresh cup, but we’re out of rum.”
Abby made her way to the front desk. Marsha Leonard hunched over her computer. “That frown will add years to your face.”
Marsha glanced up and gave a half smile. “Abby, paperwork drives me insane. Compound that with the remote possibility of a staff member scamming a few of our clients, and I’m ready to take up full-time residence here.”
“When I’m teetering between the overwhelmed zone and bring-me-medication, I do one of three things.”
Marsha straightened. “I’m ready for suggestions.”
“Head for the treadmill with a good book and jazz playing into my Skullcandy. Or walk and pretend I’m on my knees. Or go hunting. Not in that order.”
Marsha laughed. “You never stop amazing me.”
“When I do, I’m ready for the funeral home.” Abby leaned over the counter. “How can I help you?”
“Not sure.”
“Let’s visit the new wing before I hit the treadmill.”
“Are you stressed?”
Abby hesitated. Marsha was a friend, but not a sister type. “Like Earl, I’m concerned.”
“The board of directors is screaming for answers.”
Abby hooked her arm with Marsha’s. “Hold your head high and tell the board what you know.”
They walked outside into warm sunshine and on toward the new area. The hum and whine of saws along with the fresh scent of newly cut wood reminded Abby how soon Silver Hospitality would open their doors to eighteen more clients.
“How can I ever thank you for this?” Marsha said. “Larger rooms, the massage and hot tub area, a medical examining room. A dozen slots for new clients are already filled.”
“Glad Earl and I could help.”
“I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle of this.” She took Abby by the shoulders. “Those with Alzheimer’s are easily confused, misunderstand reality. You live with it.”
Abby heard the compassion. She wouldn’t mention the trip to the FBI or how Special Agents Laurel Evertson and Thatcher Graves believed them. Or how Daniel promised solid answers. Or how she really felt about Tom’s death. Or how she feared for Emma and Earl.
Sure wished she had a rifle and woods filled with wild boars to relieve her stress.
CHAPTER 9
3:35 P.M. FRIDAY
Laurel drove to her apartment complex, yesterday’s conversation with Morton Wilmington running on a constant replay in her mind, distracting her to no end. Where was her backbone? Seeing Wilmington was like looking into the face of the devil. And to think he claimed to be a Christian. If so, he’d forgotten to polish his crown, and his golden gate was doused in flaming tar. They’d spoken in terms of the board game Monopoly, a game he collected in various forms—and there were over 150 varieties. Trivia she’d like to forget. He said the game was in his blood. In the past, she’d played it to please him, to gain his confidence, and to influence him to fall in love with her.
The scene in the courtroom marched across her mind, when her testimony locked his prison cell. He’d called her Delilah. Media capitalized on it, and while her undercover work made her look like a heroine, she tried to rub the dirt from her skin. Didn’t help he had the Robin Hood thing going, giving huge sums to charities.
Sleeping with a criminal. Pretending. Trash. A stigma of what she’d always been.
Miss Kathryn said one day Laurel would encounter a breaking point when she’d have to surrender to her need for God. For some it was admitting to an addiction, being tired of jail, or facing consequences for their behavior. Laurel long understood her god was control. The God of Miss Kathryn had disappointed her years ago. Jesse had been a believer too, but God hadn’t saved him.
“Wicked people behave like wicked people,” Miss Kathryn had said. “Their choices are selfish, and other people get hurt.”
Miss Kathryn didn’t know the worst of it. Laurel had never told her the whole story of what happened the night burglars broke into her childhood home and murdered her parents. Law enforcement never found the two killers. God abandoned her that night, and she gave up on Him. It was her job now to stop those who preyed on the innocent. And she’d committed her life to stopping evil men like Wilmington.
Those who preyed on the elderly often used volunteers to infiltrate facilities and organizations where seasoned citizens congregated. Possibly representing a church or a charity. At Silver Hospitality she’d check that aspect as well as the other targeted victims. Agents were conducting investigations in the other cities, and she’d look into their findings tomorrow. Should have asked about volunteers during the Hilton interview.
An image of Daniel Hilton crept into her mind. He’d left a voice mail and asked her to return his call. Maybe new information had surfaced. Maybe she should acknowledge his message. The man
was entirely too good-looking and kind to his grandparents. A distraction. One she didn’t need. Laurel began her career single, and she’d end it single. Hopefully at retirement age unless Morton Wilmington made good on his threats. Or some other revenge seeker.
Sitting in her car, she listened again to Daniel’s message, the sound of his voice strong.
“Agent Evertson, I’d like to apologize for my rudeness when we last spoke. Would you give me a call at your convenience?”
She honored his request.
“Officer Daniel Hilton here.”
“This is Special Agent Laurel Evertson. I’m returning your call.”
“I wanted to apologize for my rudeness.”
“You did so in your message. Was there anything else?”
“Not at the moment, except I want to help in any way possible.”
“Thanks for your concern. The FBI is investigating the situation at Silver Hospitality, so I’m sure we’ll have this case solved before you feel the need to pursue your own findings.”
“A nice thought, but I don’t think it will happen. I’ve learned from the director that nothing has been found.”
“The FBI doesn’t dispose of an investigation until all sources of a case are handled.”
“Good. I’m pleased.”
She ended the conversation, irritated Daniel did not heed her instructions. She didn’t want the elderly Hiltons hurt—or any of those threatened by the scam. Wilmington had orchestrated it, and she’d not rest until he was convicted of yet another crime.
A part of her feared for what little she held dear—Phantom, her home, and her career. What would she do if they were yanked away? How would she survive? How could she ever make it up to Jesse’s family?
She climbed the steps to her apartment and unlocked the door. “Home,” she whispered. “My friend.” All around her were reminders of the things she treasured, antiques mixed with comfort. And yes, framed pictures of the dear foster mother who loved her despite the many times Laurel had pushed her away.
