Miranda watched the subtle emotions play over her daughter’s face. Agitation, surprise, and then shock. She tried to hide it, but this time Miranda could see through the mask. And then she watched her brain making its calculations.
Suddenly Mackenzie tossed back her thick black hair and smiled as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “Did I tell you I’m thinking of joining the chess club at school?”
That was news. “No, you didn’t.”
“I’m playing a game online with a friend.” Still smiling, she pointed to the computer screen. “I’m not very good yet.”
“Cool,” Miranda said cautiously.
“I’m going to join the drama team, too. After my suspension’s over. And I’m going out for basketball. I think my athletic ability will keep me off the bench.” She let out a self-conscious laugh. “Plus I’m volunteering for a food drive at the church, too.”
“Sounds like you’ll be busy.” Was she trying to prove she had learned her lesson? That she was a good person? To Miranda? To her family? To herself?
Still grinning she hopped up from her chair, bounced over to the bed and put her arms around Miranda in a rare embrace. “I love you, Mother.”
The words made Miranda’s eyes sting with sudden tears.
Was her daughter going to be all right? She was filling her life with busywork and extracurricular activities. Was she trying to keep herself distracted? To keep the disturbing, nightmarish thoughts in her head at bay? Or was she faking it so she wouldn’t get in trouble again?
Miranda couldn’t tell. But Mackenzie’s arms around her felt so good, at the moment, it was all that mattered.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
Relishing the hug, she squeezed her tight and prayed for the best.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
He sat at his desk on the fiftieth floor of the Sector Building, one of the tallest in Boston’s Financial District. Two hundred thousand tons of steel, glass, and reinforced concrete stretching seven hundred feet into the sky.
But he wasn’t thinking of the building’s stature or even of his amassed wealth just now. He was focused on the computer screen before him. It displayed an encrypted message from someone very close to the inside concerning the case of one Anatoly Tamarkin, aka Yakiv Doroshenko. The FBI had taken Doroshenko in some days ago and it was feared he might reveal some sensitive information about the organization.
It was his job to prevent that, by assassination, if necessary. But his inside man had not been able to get to Doroshenko.
Not good. Not good at all.
He was annoyed when a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
“Yes?”
His secretary entered. A young, eager-to-please man in a suit he couldn’t afford on his salary.
“Sorry to disturb you, sir,” he said in a meek obsequious voice that both pleased and irritated him. “One of your employees is here to see you. At least, he says he’s one of your employees. I can’t find his name in the records. Should I send him away?”
The secretary was rattled. What was this about? “No. Tell him to come in.”
“Very good.” With a deferential bow he left the room.
After another moment the door opened again and a man entered the room. A large mountain of a man with an orange phoenix tattooed over his face and head.
He knew him instantly.
The man went by only his given name, though it wasn’t the one he’d been born with. He had no driver’s license, no social security number, no green card, no bank account. Whenever he needed to travel, he took public transportation or rode in someone else’s vehicle. As far as the authorities knew, he didn’t exist.
He’d been in his position for over a decade, collecting and delivering the required tribute money faithfully week after week, year after year. It was a small sum compared to the vast empire he himself managed. But many small sums added up to a great sum, if you knew how to do it. And he did. He thought of himself as the McDonalds of vice.
His sum would have been greater if he hadn’t had to pay his own tribute money. But that was beside the point.
He gestured for the man to sit. He did.
“What can I do for you, Gregor? You know you are never to come here.”
The large man nodded. “Unless there is a problem.”
His back stiffened. “And there is one?”
“There is more than that.”
Gregor began to tell him what had transpired over the past week. The betrayal of one of the girls. The infiltration of the casino. The investigation. The confessions. The death of the casino’s owner. And worst of all, the pair that had caused all this chaos.
Wade Parker and Miranda Steele.
The names he had heard two weeks ago when he’d visited the house of another one of his employees in Dalton, Georgia. That income had also been lost. And there had been another woman working with them in New Orleans. A lovely redhead. A member of the team.
Anger churned within him. But the only sign he showed of it was the twirling of his pen in his hand.
He sat back in his chair. “Thank you for reporting this incident, Gregor. You’ll be assigned another position. You’re dismissed.”
Without another word the man rose and left the office.
He turned back to his computer screen and brought up the documents he’d scanned from the house in Dalton, the information he’d gathered on the Parker Investigative Agency. He should have acted on that information sooner. He would have if he hadn’t been preoccupied with the Doroshenko matter.
He had to act soon or there would be hell to pay.
No, before he let that happened, Wade Parker and his people would be the ones to pay. But he wasn’t acting out of anger or revenge. It was a business matter. These people were merely a nuisance. A threat to be eliminated. He had thought he could correct the matter simply by getting rid of the two principal parties. Now he understood he couldn’t afford to overlook any member of the team. He knew what was necessary for the health of the operation. And Wade Parker had FBI contacts.
He would have to take them out systematically. Surreptitiously. In a way even the best investigator in the world would not be able to unravel. It would take a little time, but he could do it. He had the resources, the ingenuity, the skill.
It was settled then. He would begin executing his plan immediately. Soon it would be done. One by one, they would all have to go. Each member of that so-called elite team. Everyone who had dared to disrupt his business. He refused to suffer loss because of them again. No, before he’d allow that they would be gone.
Every last one of them.
###
Dear Reader,
That was a slimy ending, wasn’t it? But a fitting one, I think.
And now Mackenzie is getting into trouble at school. Is it because she knows who her father is? Will Miranda’s words about Nurture versus Nature help?
Or does Miranda have it all wrong about her daughter?
Before she can figure things out, a new case explodes onto the scene.
There’s bank robbery. A shooting. A car chase.
On a twisted trail of violence, kidnapping, and mind control, Miranda is forced to face a frightening question.
Can someone brainwash you to do something against your will?
You’ll want to come along on this adventure, because it will keep you on the edge of your seat.
Get it now.
Mind Bender (A Miranda and Parker Mystery) #10
Copyright © 2017 Linsey Lanier
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents
are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Thank you for respecting the author’s work and helping her earn a living.
Edited by
Donna Rich
Editing for You
Snakebit Page 26
