I sat on my deck swing with Coco beside me and told him all about my day. Petting him while I spoke was one of the best therapy sessions I’d had in a while.
My kids arrived home not long after that, and things got busy. Josh’s sixteenth birthday was coming up soon, and he was excited to get his driver’s license. He could hardly think about anything else, and I wondered if I’d felt the same way at that age.
At thirteen, Savannah was going through puberty, and I never knew what to expect. Luckily, today hadn’t been as full of drama as the last few days, but I knew it could change in a heartbeat. It seemed like there was always something going on that required major theatrics, so any day that didn’t happen was a day to celebrate.
“Did you talk to Uncle Joey?” she asked me, thinking that Miguel was supposed to come home for a visit, but, so far, it hadn’t happened, and she was getting tired of waiting. “About Miguel?”
“Uh… no. But I’ll ask him tomorrow.”
“Yeah… right. Maybe he’s never coming back. He probably loves it so much in New York that he doesn’t even miss any of us.” She was thinking that he’d forgotten all about her. With all the girls there to choose from, she didn’t stand a chance.
“That’s not true. He’ll come home when he can, you know that. But that’s his world right now, and you need to concentrate on your life.”
“My life sucks.” I caught a brief thought about a group of popular girls who’d made fun of her, before she ran up the stairs to her room and slammed the door behind her.
“Geez, thirteen-year-old girls are the worst,” Josh said.
“She’s just going through some stuff.” I glanced at Josh and realized he hadn’t said that out loud. I inwardly cringed, but, since I hadn’t technically agreed with him, my comment still made sense.
“I guess.” He glanced at the dog. “Come on, Coco, let’s go play.”
I knew I’d need to talk to Savannah, but not until she’d cooled off. It surprised me that I had no trouble talking to a hitman or a mob boss, but a thirteen-year-old girl challenged me more than either of them.
I wished I could wave a magic wand and erase her infatuation with Miguel. But I knew her dreams of Miguel gave her something positive to focus on, and I’d just have to hope I could talk some sense into her instead.
Since Miguel was Uncle Joey’s son, it just complicated everything. At eighteen, he’d moved to New York because he’d gotten the lead part of Aladdin on Broadway. We’d visited New York for his opening night, and Savannah had fallen even harder for him.
I sighed. Tonight, I’d have to spell out the hard facts to her and remind her that, if she wanted to be in Miguel’s life, she had to take the time to grow up first. As hard as that seemed, it was the truth. I just hoped she’d listen.
The rest of the evening went by quickly. Savannah came down for dinner more like her old self. She even seemed a little embarrassed by her outburst. Later, I managed to have that talk with her, and she took it all in. “Yeah… I know. You don’t have to tell me.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Are you done now? I’ve got homework to do, and it’s getting late.” I picked up that she knew everything I’d told her in her head, but her emotions sometimes got the best of her, and I needed to chill out and quit bringing it up.
I let out my breath and closed her door.
My husband, Chris, waited for me downstairs. “How’d it go?”
I shook my head. “About how you’d expect.”
“Oh.” He was thinking that boys were so much easier at that age. I wanted to point out that they had their flaws too, but it wasn’t worth it.
“So how was your day?” I asked instead.
“Busy. I’ve got a new client. He’s one of Manetto’s friends, so I have to take good care of him.” Chris had recently become a partner at his law firm, mostly because Uncle Joey was his main client. “But he hasn’t committed a crime or anything, so that’s a good start.”
I shook my head. “Yeah, for sure.” I sat down next to him and snuggled against his side. “Every once in a while, I think maybe our lives are normal, but then it hits me how far from normal we really are.”
“Well, I don’t know about that.” He pulled me close. “Our normal is normal for us, so maybe it’s not that far of a stretch.”
I chuckled. “Yeah… but you haven’t heard about my day yet.”
He groaned, thinking that he wasn’t sure he wanted to—no—of course he wanted to hear all about it. My exploits always spiced up his mundane life, so how could he not want to know?
“Nice save.”
“I’m learning. So what’s up?”
I began with my lesson at the shooting range, then moved on to the cool paperweight the newspaper had given me. “But while I was there, Billie Jo asked me to help her with a story.”
I explained the whole story about the lost gold mine and the journal, telling him about the professor’s press conference the next day, and that I was looking forward to asking him leading questions and getting the truth from his mind. “Have you heard anything about it?”
He shook his head. “Not really. I’ve been too busy at work. All that time I took off is catching up to me. But it sounds intriguing.”
“Yeah. I’m actually looking forward to going.”
“Good. I can’t wait to hear all about it. Is there anything else I need to know?” He knew that I sometimes left my interactions with Uncle Joey until the end, mostly because they had the potential to be bad.
“It’s not that bad… exactly.”
“I knew it. What’s going on?”
“First, let me explain. Uncle Joey had an unexpected visitor with a connection to Jackie. You know… I don’t really know anything about her past, but apparently this guy was part of it, and it really shook her up.
“Uncle Joey didn’t know much about the guy either, but I’m sure he’ll find out from Jackie, and then he’ll fill me in when I go back tomorrow. Anyway… Sonny, the guy who showed up, is hosting a big poker tournament this weekend in Las Vegas, and he invited Uncle Joey to participate.”
Chris’s brows dipped. “Is Manetto going to play?” I didn’t answer right away, and he frowned. “You’re going to play for him?” At my nod, he continued. “A poker tournament in Vegas? Shelby…”
“It will be fine. It’s a winner-take-all-ten-million-dollar jackpot, so I have to win because Sonny is as crooked as they come. He’s planning to cheat to keep it, and I don’t know what he has to do with Jackie, but we can’t let him get away with it.”
Chris’s mouth worked, but no words came out. Since it was Uncle Joey, he couldn’t object, and he didn’t want to sound like a controlling husband, but how could he be happy about sending me off to Las Vegas to play in a rigged poker tournament?
“Hey,” I soothed. “You don’t have to be happy about it. I’m not even happy about it. But I’ll be fine.”
He shook his head. “But this weekend… wasn’t there something we already had planned?”
“Oh… that’s right. Josh and I were supposed to train with Lance Hobbs on Saturday.” Since Coco was a search-and-rescue dog, and Lance had trained him, we’d decided to learn the job so Coco’s work could continue.
We’d already been to Lance’s place a few times, but I’d had to put this training session off for a couple of weeks, and I hated to reschedule. “I know… why don’t you and Josh go? Then Coco won’t be so disappointed.”
“Coco?”
I shrugged. “Well… I know he’s looking forward to it.” That was stretching it, since Coco didn’t really think about the future, but if he could think that far ahead, he’d be disappointed not to go. “Okay… maybe not, but Josh is planning on it. Hey… you could take Savannah too. It might get her mind off Miguel for a while.”
Chris knew when he was outmaneuvered. “Fine. So how long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know, but probably just Saturday and Sunday. I’ll know more of the detail
s tomorrow.”
“Okay. But I’m not real happy about this.” He was thinking that Ramos was probably going with us, but maybe that wasn’t so bad, since Chris knew the hitman would risk his life for me. Still, he hated sending me off to play poker in Vegas… geeze… I might even have fun.
I chuckled. “Ha! Not likely. I’ll probably get the worst headache ever.”
Chris shrugged. “Maybe so… but I wish I could be there to watch you win.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that… since I’m not so sure I can.”
“What? Of course you can. I have no doubt about it. And what about that jackpot? That’s a lot of money.” Naturally, he was thinking that Uncle Joey should be willing to share the profits if I’d gone to all the work of winning it.
“Chris. Uncle Joey’s not going to let me keep ten million dollars.”
He shrugged. “Hey… maybe not all of it. But it wouldn’t hurt to ask. I mean… you do a lot for him, and winning that much money… he’s bound to feel grateful.”
I shook my head. “I’m sure he will, and he’ll probably make sure I’m compensated.”
“Good, because I want to buy a new car. I think maybe a red sports car would do the trick.” At my frown, he continued. “But I’d settle for you, back home safe and sound.” He thought a couple million wouldn’t hurt, but he kept that to himself and kissed me soundly as a distraction.
Soon, I couldn’t remember what we’d been talking about, especially after he spoke some of my favorite words. “Oh baby, oh baby.”
The next morning, I arrived early at the newspaper offices. Billie had a lanyard with my name on it and PRESS, in capital letters, all ready to go. A man stood beside her with a camera, and she introduced us. “I don’t know if you’ve met before, but this is Jeff Allred.”
He was thinking that he’d taken that awesome photo of me right after I took down the shooter in the newspaper lobby. I really liked that photo, since it made me look like a superhero. He thought about offering me a copy, and I nodded with enthusiasm.
His gaze narrowed, and I realized my mistake, so I quickly told him how much I loved that particular photo. As we took the elevator down to the parking garage, he offered to send me a copy, and I eagerly accepted. I was more careful after that, since Billie hadn’t missed a thing, and I knew she’d figure out my secret if I wasn’t more vigilant.
We drove to the press conference together and even managed to be the first to arrive. Billie jumped at the chance to get front-row seats. The place filled up pretty quickly after that, and I was surprised to find a few national news outlets there.
Several men entered the room and headed straight to the podium, standing behind it like bodyguards. Everyone took their places and quit talking while the whir of camera clicks filled the air. Following behind the bodyguards, a man carrying a black binder came in.
He wore a dark gray blazer over a white shirt and jeans, and his sandy brown hair curled slightly around his head. His round glasses added to his academic persona, and, with his understated good looks, he reminded me of Indiana Jones.
Another man followed behind him, and I took an instant dislike to the polished veneer of his slicked-back hair and high cheekbones. He was tall and slim, wearing a dark blazer over his blue shirt and jeans. But something about him set me on edge.
He stepped to the podium and smiled. “Thank you all for coming. My name is Ian Smith, and I represent Professor Charles Stewart, head of the historical society and history department of our esteemed university.
“He has graciously offered to hold this press conference to address all the rumors concerning his significant discovery. After his statement, he will leave plenty of time open for questions. Dr. Stewart.”
The man wearing the glasses stepped to the podium. “Thank you, Ian.” Dr. Stewart glanced over all of the reporters staring at him and ducked his head, clearly not enjoying all the attention. “Good morning. After years of meticulous research and study, I am officially announcing a find of historical significance, the lost journal of Jeremiah Taft.”
A soft murmur filled the room, and several reporters raised their hands. Dr. Stewart held his hands up before continuing. “I’m sure you have many questions, but I’d like to finish, if I may.” He paused for the room to quiet down.
“The journal was not in the best shape when I found it. Many words had faded, and several pages were torn or lost. Though we had the use of several special technological resources, it has taken us many painstaking hours to recreate the missing words into a narrative that made sense. That said, I am now announcing my intention to find the lost mine. If anyone is interested in backing this expedition, please contact my representative, Ian Smith.” He motioned to the man behind him. “Now… I’ll take a few questions.”
He pointed at a journalist in the back who stood and introduced himself. “Isn’t it true that you’ve already searched for the lost mine with no results to show for it?”
“We’ve scouted out the area, but there’s a lot more we can do.”
“Aren’t you taking a risk by announcing your expedition? Couldn’t someone follow you to the area?” he continued.
Dr. Stewart pursed his lips. “Yes and no. Word has already spread about the journal. Because of that, I decided to make my intentions clear so I could proceed with the expedition. I have all the necessary paperwork filed with the government, and my claims are all legal. I do have need of a few more investors, so, if you’re interested, please let me know.” He said that with a smile, and a few chuckles sounded in the room.
I zeroed in on Ian Smith and picked up his hopes that this press conference would do what he’d intended and get them some much-needed cash. Things hadn’t gone as easily as he’d thought, and they were already in debt up to their eyeballs. This press conference was a last-ditch effort to get the ball rolling, and he hoped Dr. Stewart’s reputation gave the journal enough credibility to pull it off.
Credibility? Did that mean the journal could be a fake?
As the questions continued along the same vein, I sensed a growing edge to Dr. Stewart’s nerves. He hated publicity, and he was ready for this to be done, so I raised my hand high and smiled to catch his attention.
He finally called on me, and I stood. “Shelby Nichols with the Daily News. Dr. Stewart, is it possible that the journal could be a forgery? Has it been tested for authenticity?”
Surprise washed over him. That was the last question he’d expected. He knew he couldn’t show any anger, and he tried to calm his indignation. “Yes… of course we’ve tested it, and I’m confident it’s authentic.”
“That’s encouraging, but is it still possible someone could make a forgery of it and pass it off as authentic?”
“The forger would have to be a master at his trade to fool the testing process we put it through. With all of the tools at our disposal, I don’t believe it’s possible.”
I wasn’t about to let it go. “So you’re saying that it’s not likely, but there’s still a possibility? Then… is it also possible that a master forger, with the right kind of tools and attention to detail, could pull it off?”
He didn’t like the doubt I’d thrown into the equation. The whole room had gone quiet waiting for his response, and he knew his answer was critical to his success. Sounding too confident either way could backfire, but he didn’t want to leave anyone in doubt that the document was real.
“The testing process we have put the journal through makes the probability of such an occurrence less than one percent. Given those statistics, I would say that we are ninety-nine percent certain that the document is authentic.”
Satisfaction that he’d shut me down rolled over him, and he hurried to call on someone else. I caught a spike of anger directed my way and met Ian Smith’s gaze. He didn’t like my line of questioning, but Dr. Stewart’s response had been perfect.
He’d made the odds sound pretty good, which shouldn’t dampen a potential investor’s enthusiasm. That was the thin
g about investors. They knew right up front that they were taking a chance, so if it didn’t pan out, they couldn’t scream for their money back.
What did he mean by that?
The press conference continued for another ten minutes before Dr. Stewart thanked everyone and stepped away from the podium. As they left the room, Ian Smith happened to glance my way. Our gazes met, and he sent me a polite smile, thinking that he was more than ready to take me on any time.
It was a challenge that didn’t make sense. If Dr. Stewart was telling the truth, then it wouldn’t matter what I said, so they had to be hiding something, but what? I needed more time with them to figure it out. Between Ian Smith and Dr. Stewart, I pegged Ian as the bigger threat. Why was that? Did he have something on Dr. Stewart, or was there something going on that Stewart knew nothing about?
The room began to clear out and Billie turned to me. “That was a great question. Did you get anything from him?”
I nodded. “Yeah. But it’s a little confusing.” I waited for more people to leave before I spoke. “I think Ian’s the one we need to watch. He’s got something up his sleeve, but I don’t know what it is exactly. It almost feels like he’s fooling Dr. Stewart, but that doesn’t make sense.”
“What about the journal? Do you think it’s the real deal like they said?”
“I don’t know. I need more time to figure it out, but something’s going on.”
Billie’s enthusiasm for the story rose about a hundred percent. If I had doubts, that meant we were on to something big. If the journal was real, she wanted to document the whole thing. If it wasn’t, she wanted to be the one to expose them. Either way, it could be the story of her career. “We’ll just have to figure it out. You and me. If anyone can do it, we can.”
“I like your optimism.” I smiled, knowing that, with Billie on the story, we were bound to find the truth. “Whatever his motivation is, Ian’s planning on making a lot of money, and I don’t know if it’s from discovering the gold or profiting from the investors.”
High Stakes Crime: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Shelby Nichols Adventure Book 15) Page 4
