Blackmail (2 page)

He flipped through more pages until he found the recent court documents. New legal guardian of Caleb Frost was one Sadie Thompson, half sister of the minor.

Jon turned the document over to find the details on Ms. Thompson.

A single woman, longtime resident of Lagniappe, employed by Vermilion Oil, four years into buying her home and twenty-four years of age.

The court had assigned a seventeen-year-old boy to a twenty-four-year-old guardian? A single woman, with no family listed to help her out? Were they serious? Glancing through the paperwork, he realized they were.

The waiter appeared with Jon's lunch. He plopped it onto the table, scowled again, as if Jon had personally insulted him by not ordering the side of cayenne, and scuttled away. Jon took a sip of tea, then went back to the case notes as he ate.

What was such a young, single woman going to do with her brother? Maybe they were close before his incarceration? Jon flipped pages and read the history.

Caleb Frost had lived with his biological father since his parents' divorce eleven years ago. His father had never remarried and according to the notes, there wasn't a woman's influence around Caleb since.

Jon did the math. Caleb had been caught in a man's world since he was six years old. No wonder he'd ended up in juvie. Jon's heart ached for the little boy Caleb had once been.

He peeled and shoved another shrimp into his mouth. Even without the cayenne, seasonings exploded in his mouth. Not just spicy, but a rich blend of seasonings that put his taste buds on notice. He drained his tea and went back to reading.

The boy's attitude hadn't improved in the detention center, apparently. The faculty social worker had ordered a psychological evaluation as well as counseling for him after they'd told him that his father had died. Those notes weren't included in the file. The rest of the report concluded the kid had a high GPA with an aptitude toward computers.

The waiter appeared at Jon's elbow, holding a pitcher. “More tea, sir?”

“Yes, please.”

The waiter poured and then withdrew. Jon took another shrimp and continued to read about Caleb Frost's life.

As far as Jon could tell, Caleb had never been around his sister on any basis since the age of six. Yet she was willing to accept guardianship? Jon wondered what kind of young woman would agree to such a thing. Why? It made no sense.

Had she been coerced? Bullied by the court representatives? In his experience, people weren't so willing to step up and accept responsibility for someone they weren't close to unless they had something to gain.

Jon finished his lunch and closed the folder. Well, if he was to be released today, Caleb Frost and his guardian would be coming into his office to set up the parole boundaries.

He intended to monitor this particular relationship carefully.

Very carefully.

S
ilence really could be deafening.

Sadie disregarded her brooding brother propped against the wall and concentrated on finding the listing for Jon Garrison's office in the building directory. Why the parole office couldn't be in the state building where she was familiar with everything remained a mystery to her. Why the courthouse?

Because parole officers dealt with criminals.

Shivers attacked her spine as she located the room number and led Caleb to the elevator. The entire ride back to Lagniappe had been conversation-free, and not the comfortable kind, either. Not that she hadn't tried. She'd done her best at sharing, telling her brother about her crisis at work, but no matter what questions she asked, topics she introduced, Caleb hadn't engaged in simple conversation. They'd stopped for lunch at a diner along the way—even there he didn't bother to speak except to grunt out his order for a double cheeseburger and fries. She couldn't put up with this for long.

Off the elevator and down the hall, Caleb remained silent. She came to the door with the number she searched for and pushed it open.

A redheaded lady greeted them. “Can I help y'all?”

Still, Caleb said not a word.

Sadie couldn't put up with this for nine months. She wouldn't. Not with everything going on at work. A sense of being overwhelmed washed over her, yet she smiled at the woman who
couldn't be more than her age. “I'm Sadie Thompson and this is my brother, Caleb Frost. He's supposed to report to Mr. Jon Garrison this afternoon.”

The woman smiled wide at Caleb. “Hi, Caleb. I'm Lisa, Jon's assistant.”

No reaction from Caleb, not even eye contact.

Lisa flashed Sadie a look full of sympathy and winked. “Have a seat. I'll let Jon know you're waiting.”

Sadie sat and looked at Caleb, who stood staring out the window. “You could at least try to be polite, yes?”

Her admonishment didn't seem to faze him. He maintained his silence, not even bothering to so much as glance at her.

Frustration chased apprehension around her heart. Sadie pinched the bridge of her nose. She'd known this guardian thing would be difficult, but had no idea just how difficult.

Lord, please give me a clue how to reach him, how to help him.

“Mr. Garrison would like to see you alone first, Ms. Thompson.” Lisa stood in the narrow hallway.

Feeling like a child reporting to the principal's office, Sadie stood and followed Lisa to a door off the hall.

“Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on Caleb for you.” Lisa shut the door behind her, leaving Sadie to face the principal alone.

Her focus adhered to the man standing behind a desk loaded with manila folders, his hand extended. “Hello, I'm Jon Garrison.”

She licked her lips, trying not to stare.

But it was difficult.

He had the wide shoulders of an LSU middle linebacker. His brown hair should've appeared plain, but with the few streaks of gray at his temples, it was anything but. His eyes were that mysterious shade of hazel—not quite green, not quite brown. The only color that came to mind was golden. Yeah, his eyes were warm golden.

“Please, have a seat.” He motioned to the chair sitting kitty-corner to his desk and returned to his seat.

She plopped into the hardwood chair that had seen one too
many years in a parish courthouse. Good idea to sit, because all of a sudden, her knees were feeling a little on the mushy side as her old familiar feelings urging her to act on physical attraction began to bubble up.

God, please give me strength.

Jon grabbed a folder, flipped through pages and then shut it. “I have all the information on Caleb and his background.” He lifted a pen and tapped it against his chin. “But I have very little on you, aside from the basics.”

She stiffened her back. Was she under a microscope now? “Um, what would you like to know?”

“Why did you agree to be Caleb's legal guardian?”

She opened her mouth, hesitated when no words popped out and snapped it shut. What kind of question was that?

The one she'd been asking herself over and over since she'd agreed to this harebrained idea. “Because he's my brother and had nowhere else to go.”

“I see.” He wrote something on a notebook hiding behind the piles on his desk. “How well do you know your brother, Ms. Thompson?”

Her defenses rose. “I haven't seen Caleb in years, if that's what you're asking.” What was this, the Spanish Inquisition? She'd been approached by the court, not the other way around. “He's my half brother.”

“Yes, I'm aware.” He smiled, the power of it nearly knocking her over. “Were you two close before his incarceration in the juvenile center?”

“Not really. He lived with his father.”

“But were you close?”

Boy, he sure pushed every button available. “I saw Caleb once since he moved in with his father. At our mother's funeral seven years ago.”

He laid his pen on the desk. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend.”

“No offense taken.” Yet.
God, please. I'm following You the best I know how. Help me out with this guy. Please.

“I'm just trying to determine what's best for Caleb. Naturally, I need to know your motivation for accepting custody.”

“What's best for Caleb is that he doesn't become a ward of the state, which he would have had I not agreed to be his guardian.”

“I see.” And his tone clearly implied he did.

She tried again. “I'm giving him a second chance, Mr. Garrison. He made a mistake and he's paying for it. He deserves the opportunity to put his life back on track, yes?” And didn't she know that was a hard road to walk.

Mr. Garrison remained silent, just staring at her.

She ducked her head to avoid the judgment in his stare. Bad girl Sadie takes in her criminal brother—which one is the worse influence on the other? “I spent six months in a foster home after my mother died before I turned eighteen. I know how horrible that feels. I don't want Caleb to have to go through that.”

“Ms. Thompson, I'm not here to make your life difficult. My job is to help Caleb in adjusting back into society. I need to know all the facts surrounding every aspect of his life to help him be successful. That includes knowing about the adult responsible for him and their relationship.”

She rigidly held her tears in check and met his gaze. “I understand. I just want you to know I'm trying to help him, too. Give him every opportunity to set himself straight.” No one had believed Uncle Joe had turned his life around after his incarceration and look what'd happened—he'd committed suicide.

“Then we have the same goal.” He glanced down at his notebook. “The juvenile center sent you home with a schedule, correct?”

“Of times he has to visit you and the therapist, yes. We'll be registering him for the summer school session as soon as we leave here.”

“Very good. I'll come by later this week for a home visit.”

Her heart leaped into her throat. “A home visit? This week?”

He cocked his head. “Is that a problem?”

“No. It just wasn't on the schedule.”

“Home visits are unscheduled, Ms. Thompson. It allows us to view the parolee in their environment. Gauge how they're adjusting and building relationships.”

Building relationships? Not even a full day with Caleb and already she'd failed in that aspect. “O-Okay.”

He flashed a smile that warmed her to her toes as he stood. “Great. I think I'll talk to Caleb now. If you wouldn't mind sending him in on your way out?”

Dismissed. Nothing new for her.

She struggled to get her feet under her. “It was nice meeting you.” Even though being in his presence had been unsettling.

“We'll be seeing each other quite often.”

What did he mean by that? Did he think she'd require more monitoring than usual? She barely knew the man and already he'd judged her to be an incompetent guardian. Based upon what?

God, I don't understand.

Sadie entered the waiting room, and Lisa jumped to her feet from her seat beside Caleb. “Come on, Caleb. I'll take you to meet Jon. He's a nice guy. I think you'll like him. Most of the teens do.”

Her brother shoved to his feet, silently following the rambling young woman. Sadie pulled her cell phone free from its clip and glanced at the screen. Two missed calls. Probably from Georgia.

Deacon was right to be concerned. As the only locally owned and operated oil company operating in the parish, Vermilion Oil employed several hundred workers. Between fifty and seventy oil wells produced into each of the sabotaged facilities, but when the facility went down, all wells producing into it stopped production. Halted production meant layoffs. Additionally, the company had recently put in new, state-of-the-art monitoring systems that enabled them to operate the facilities with less manpower. They were already dealing with protests from workers laid off after that decision. More layoffs would just add fuel to the fire. All in all, it was a mess.

She pressed the number to check her voice mail. She'd been right—both calls came from Georgia. The manner of sabotage
on this latest facility matched the other one—tank valve tampering. Not a single witness because both facilities had automatic controls rather than employees on-site. The automatic controls shut down the facility in the event of a malfunction. Yet the chances of two facilities having the tank valves tampered with wasn't a coincidence. No, this was deliberate.

Knowing how to get around the new systems, how to tamper with the valves just enough to damage the facility but not cause any environmental damage…had to be an inside job. But who and why?

Deacon hadn't been able to get the first facility repaired yet as the coordinating law enforcement agencies were still investigating. Which left Vermilion Oil in a very bad position.

And Sadie, as head of public relations for the company, in a very precarious spot.

She took a seat and called her contact at the paper to reserve space for a statement, left a message on voice mail and then pulled out a pad and pen from her purse. She'd barely make the five o'clock cutoff, even if she hurried. With rapid speed she wrote out a press release, assuring the good citizens of Lagniappe that Mr. Wynn intended to beef up security on all of Vermilion Oil's wells and facilities, as well as launch a full investigation on his own because the law enforcement agencies had yet to uncover a suspect. Now to convince Deacon he had to do just that.

Finished, she chewed the end of her pen and reread her words. Her statement would appease some of the general public, but not all. She made a note to ask Deacon for a complete list of all the workers at both facilities and the maintenance employees on each of the wells. Hopefully, there'd be a single name attached to all. If not, the news wasn't good.

That would mean a conspiracy against Vermilion Oil.

 

Jon jotted notes in his file as he waited for Caleb. He hadn't quite formed an opinion of the new guardian yet. At least, not that he could file in his report.

Sadie was quite a looker. Her tawny hair hung down midback,
looking soft and silky. Yet it'd been the pain and distrust lurking in her eyes that had pulled such a response from his gut. Her vulnerability reached into the hidden places of his heart and took hold.

He recognized her look, both from his service in the National Guard and his time logged as a parole officer. It was the look of desperation and despair.

But she was the guardian of one of his charges. He wouldn't allow himself to respond to her emotionally, or he'd lose his objectivity.

The door swung open, ripping him from his thoughts. A young man shuffled in. As tall as Jon himself, the boy wore his hardships on his shoulders like a saggy sweatshirt.

Jon's heart sunk to his feet. He'd seen this type too many times before—this wouldn't be an easy parolee.

“Hi, Caleb. Jon Garrison.” He extended his hand.

The boy glanced at it, paused and then gave him a hard stare.

So that's how it was going to be—distrustful and full of attitude. Jon dropped his hand and motioned to the chair. He couldn't really blame him. Juvie didn't exactly instill good social relations. “Have a seat.”

Caleb hesitated, as if debating if he'd been given a choice. He finally slumped onto the chair, stretching out his long legs in front of him.

Jon recognized the body language—loner attitude, appearance of disgust, contempt for all adults…Caleb exhibited each and every one. In spades from every fiber of his being. He'd be a difficult one to crack, hard to rehabilitate. Not only for Jon, but also for his guardian.

Jon's heart went out to Sadie. She'd unwittingly been saddled with a serious problem and probably didn't even realize it yet.