Double Cross (6 page)

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.

She closed the apartment door and secured it. Few visited her, but those who did were always surprised. Like Wilmington. They’d mistaken her for a contemporary gal
 
—high-tech, vivid colors, and abstract art. How would they react to Laurel Evertson’s need for the warmth of a traditional home, reminders of the ten-year-old who’d lost everything?

Sinking into a tufted steel-blue Victorian sofa, she drew air into her lungs and buried her face in her hands. Behind her crime-fighting veneer lived a woman who longed for so much more if only she could find it. Keep it. Hold it tighter than her antiques.

She glanced into the small dining area at her antique crystal
chandelier, the most expensive piece she owned. An oak and mahogany library table rested beneath it with a green Depression glass bowl filled with wooden apples in a bed of apple spice–scented leaves. On the wall in her living area, a turn-of-the-century oak buffet held French opera glasses in dark and light mother-of-pearl. Beside it was a Chinese vase etched in greens with a pink dragon. On the other end of the buffet rested
Little Women
, a 1951 edition, a gift from Miss Kathryn. The rest of her two-bedroom apartment held the same items that appealed to her
 
—old and intricately attractive. Eclectic but hers.

After closing all the drapes in the living room, she walked to her bedroom. There in soothing colors of vintage blue
 
—delicate robin egg–blue wallpaper, a blue-and-white upholstered chair and headboard, and a white chenille bedspread
 
—she changed into workout clothes.

How she hated the loneliness that fit like a tattered dress, but Wilmington had been right in his assessment. She’d go to her grave wondering what was wrong with her wretched soul. Why she’d let Jesse get killed. She’d never shared those dark parts of herself, yet a killer uncovered them. That’s why she couldn’t let anyone get close to her.

4:00 P.M. FRIDAY

Abby chuckled. Dark suits and no smiles. Had to be the FBI. Now to see if they could find out who’d been scamming the elderly, maybe learn how Tom really died.

She wove through the staff scurrying about the front office toward Marsha, who was more nervous than a rabbit staring down a rifle barrel.

“Marsha, who are these visitors?” Abby said.

“Abby, I’m busy with these people. We can talk later.”

“Are these gentlemen from the FBI?” Abby raised her voice. “You know Daniel took Earl and me to their office yesterday
morning. If you haven’t been there, it’s off Highway 290. Lots of security. Anyway, we’re so upset about the scam and Tom’s death.”

That worked. Abby jarred the attention of two special agents.

“Ma’am, can I have a word with you?” one of the young men said.

Actually 95 percent of the men in the world were young. “Yes, sir. I’d be glad to.”

“We can talk in Miss Leonard’s office.”

Abby followed him down the hall to the small room. He settled behind the desk, and she eased onto a chair. He introduced himself as Jack something or other.

“I’m Abby Hilton, and I’m not a client here.” She explained how she accompanied Earl six days a week to Silver Hospitality.

“Any relation to the new Hilton wing being added?” he said.

She smiled. “We thought the facility needed to expand. Now, sonny, you aren’t here to talk about the new wing but what I know about the scam.”

“Yes, ma’am. If you don’t mind, I’d like to record our interview.”

“Go right ahead. Listen carefully ’cause I hate to repeat myself.” She drew in a breath. “I blame myself for this. Normally I spend the hours with Earl
 
—that’s my husband
 
—and our friends. But they were in a domino match, and I was bored. I walked to the front desk to speak with Marsha, but she was busy. I took a walk outside, and when I returned, Marsha still wasn’t free to chat.” The truth was Marsha and Chef Steven were involved in a chess game against each other, and neither wanted to be bothered. She didn’t want to see either of them fired, but their attention should be on their jobs, not on each other.

“What happened then?”

Abby snapped to attention. What was she doing slipping like that? She’d have to increase her ginkgo and green tea. “I returned to Earl, Tom, and Emma. A stranger was talking with them, and he introduced himself as Russell Jergon. He talked to Emma about life insurance. When he asked for money, my radar went nuts. I told him to leave. ‘Where’s your ID?’ I said.” She leaned closer to
the agent. “Jergon had this rigor mortis smile going. Made some stupid comment about Emma wanting to make sure her family was taken care of after she was gone. Why, Emma doesn’t recognize her family half the time. I stomped off to get Marsha. By the time I got her pried away from her work, the salesman was gone.”

“Ever see this Jergon fellow again?”

“No, the slippery weasel. The next day I asked Earl if he’d bought life insurance from the man. He couldn’t remember, so I checked our accounts. Sure enough, another thirty thousand dollars was missing. The bank had flags on our account, but a VP said they’d received an e-mail from Earl to have the money deposited to another bank.” Abby snorted. “Now, do you think an old man with Alzheimer’s would have e-mail?”

The thought of it again made her angrier at Marsha. While the woman had been engaged with a “knight,” good people were scammed.

“Anything else?” the agent said.

“What have you learned today?”

“We haven’t written our reports.”

Abby frowned. “You’ve been here since one o’clock. What about the files, backgrounds on staff, glitches in the security cameras? Did you check out Liz Austin, a staff member who quit yesterday? She was a floozy, and I wouldn’t put anything past her.”

The agent jotted down something. “Mrs. Hilton, thank you for your statement.” He rose from his chair.

Didn’t the suit understand Earl might have made a dent in Daniel’s inheritance . . . and their lives?

7:30 P.M. FRIDAY

Daniel settled into a recliner in his grandparents’ media room. Before Gramps clicked the remote to watch the recorded news, he needed to make a request.

“Why don’t you two stay here for a few days until this scam thing is settled. I can make arrangements for a nurse.”

“Forget it,” Gramps said. “Abby and I have friends there.”

“Would you think about it?” Daniel said.

“Nope.” He picked up the remote.

In silence, they watched the local news air a press statement from Houston’s FBI media coordinator. He revealed four cases of elderly fraud involving false life insurance policies. Identical to his grandparents’ case. The report warned the community that, if approached, they should contact the FBI. A phone number was displayed on-screen. Interested persons could obtain additional information on the FBI’s website. Billboards would be up this weekend to assist in communicating the scam.

“Agent Evertson’s a smart gal. I could tell,” Gramps said. “I’d like to see the jerks who swindled us lined up in front of a firing squad. And if they killed Tom, I’d pull the trigger myself.” He reached into a candy dish for a miniature Snickers bar, but Gran snatched it back. She guarded his sugar intake like a watchdog.

“Those are for guests, and you’ve already had two,” she said.

Gramps didn’t miss a beat. He reached for the candy with his other hand. “I’d share my Snickers with the good-looking gal from the FBI anytime.”

“Earl!” Gran said. “You’re a married man.”

“Married, yes. In love with you, yes. Blind, no.” He tossed her a grin that had won her over for seventy years.

Daniel chuckled. He adored their bantering, and tonight Gramps showed few signs of his disease. “Better watch it, or you’ll be on the couch tonight.”

“Aw, wouldn’t be the first time. You know, Agent Evertson treated me with respect instead of like a worthless old man.”

“She had some spunk, too.” Gran didn’t look up from her knitting, where her fingers flew at jet speed.

Daniel wouldn’t reveal his conversations with her. “I’m glad you had a good experience.”

Gramps chuckled and sat back in his recliner. “I read you better than a book, Daniel. You don’t think much of the pretty agent.”

“What?” Where was this headed?

“It’s the same problem you have with every woman you meet. If she’s intelligent
 
—and Agent Evertson is definitely smart
 
—you think she’s out to use you up and spit you out. If she’s drop-dead gorgeous, you think she’s like your mom. Brains and beauty together throw you way out of your comfort zone. Especially when you’re on a crusade to save the world.”

This was not going as he anticipated. Last night Gramps talked about playing kick the can when he was a boy.

“I’m right, so admit it.” Gramps crumpled the candy wrapper and tossed it back into the dish.

“I’ve dated pretty girls.”

“How many times have you taken one of them out more than twice?”

Daniel had no plans of marrying, which fed into what Gramps believed was true. “You might be right.”

His eyes twinkled. “I’d like to see you put a ring on a lady’s finger before I’m completely senile.”

“And I’d like to hold a great-grandbaby or two.” Gran smiled. “A redheaded baby girl or boy.”

“The right woman hasn’t crossed my path.” He shrugged. “Not sure if she ever will.”

Gramps studied him, and Daniel feared he was slipping. Worse yet, a sermon might be on the tip of his tongue. “Son, open your heart to what God has for you. You’re running from everything reminding you of your mother. I’ve said this before, but you’ve got to forgive her and not blame every female for one woman’s mistakes.”

Daniel picked up the glass of water and downed it, giving him time to form his response. “Every time I think I’ve grown and forgiven her, a reminder pops up and the bitterness nearly chokes me. I’m a grown man still acting like a kid.” He’d visit her soon for his reasons. But he had no intention of setting himself up for a land mine relationship with any woman.

“Ask God to help you put your mother in the right perspective. Look at Abby. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“She’s different, and she’ll always be my best girl.”

“Thank you, Daniel,” she said. “I’m not the only different woman out there.”

Gramps picked up the TV remote. “The right one will step into your life when you least expect it.”

“Have you always been so irritatingly wise?”

“Ah, I push everyone to redemption, not just to cope with life’s hard punches.”

Daniel smiled at the white-haired wisdom. “Thanks. But it won’t be Special Agent Laurel Evertson. She’s not my type.”

Gramps laughed. “Famous last words. I’ll get off your case for now. I know they’d like for your gran and I to work with an artist about Russell Jergon. Should have done it when we were there, but I don’t think they took us seriously.”

“I could take you there on my day off.”

Gramps waved his hand. “Daniel, my cooperation depends on where my mind is. I can tell you what I ate for breakfast when I was twelve, but this morning is another matter.” He paused, tears filling his eyes. “Hate it when I can’t remember or when you tell me I’ve done something stupid.”

“We take one day at a time.”

“By helping the artist, I can contribute to society instead of taking advantage of it.”

“Gramps, you’ve given much to others, and you still are. I will find the answers you and Gran need.” Daniel had already spoken to his superiors at HPD, but this was an FBI matter until a task force was formed. Didn’t stop him from his own investigation.