The Winner (17 page)

Jackson held the needle very close to Romanello’s neck, seeking the perfect entry site. “They will find you here, a young, strapping man felled in his prime by natural causes. Another statistic in the ongoing health debate.”

Romanello’s eyes almost exploded out of his head as he struggled with every ounce of will to break the grip of inertia the stun gun had caused. The veins stood out on his neck with the effort he was exerting and Jackson quietly thanked him for providing such a convenient place, right before the needle plunged into the jugular vein and its contents poured into his body. Jackson smiled and gently patted Romanello on the head as his pupils shot back and forth like a metronome.

From his bag, Jackson extracted a razor blade. “Now, a sharp-eyed medical examiner might pick up on the hypodermic’s entry site, so we will have to address that.” Using the razor, Jackson nicked Romanello’s skin at the precise place the needle had gone in. A drop of blood floated to the surface of the skin. Jackson replaced the razor in the bag and pulled out a Band-Aid. He pressed it across the fresh cut and sat back to study his handiwork, smiling as he did so.

“I’m sorry that it’s come to this, as your services might have been useful to me in the future.” Jackson picked up one of Romanello’s limp hands and made the sign of the cross over the stricken man’s chest. “I know that you were raised Roman Catholic, Mr. Romanello,” he said earnestly, “although you obviously have strayed from the teachings of the Church, but I’m afraid a priest to administer last rites is out of the question. I hardly think it matters where you’re going anyway, do you? Purgatory is such a silly notion after all.” He picked up Romanello’s knife and placed it back in the sheath strapped to his ankle.

Jackson was about to stand up when he noted the edge of the newspaper sticking out from the inside of Romanello’s jacket pocket. He nimbly plucked it out. As he read the article detailing the story of the two murders, drugs, LuAnn’s disappearance, and the police’s search for her, his features became grim. That explained a lot. Romanello was blackmailing her. Or attempting to. Had he discovered this piece of information a day earlier, Jackson’s solution would have been simple. He would’ve executed LuAnn Tyler on the spot. Now he could not do that and he hated that he had lost partial control of the situation. She had already been confirmed as the winning ticket holder. She was scheduled to appear to the world in less than twenty-four hours as the lottery’s newest winner. Yes, now her requests made more sense. He folded up the piece of paper and put it in his pocket. Like it or not, he was wedded to LuAnn Tyler, warts and all. It was a challenge, and, if nothing else, he loved a challenge. However, he would take control back. He would tell her exactly what she had to do, and if she didn’t follow his instructions precisely, then he would kill her after she won the lottery.

Jackson gathered up the shredded newspaper and remnants of the UPS package. The dark suit he was wearing came off with a tug on certain discreet parts of the garment, and together with the now revealed body moldings that had given Jackson his girth, all of these items were packed in a pizza carrier bag that Jackson pulled from a corner of the living room. Underneath, a much slimmer Jackson was wearing the blue and white shirt proclaiming him to be a Domino’s Pizza delivery person. From one of his pockets, he pulled out a piece of thread and, edging it carefully under the putty on his nose, lifted the piece cleanly off and stuck it in the pizza box. The mole, beard, and ear pieces he similarly discarded. He swabbed his face down with alcohol from a bottle pulled from his pocket, removing the shadows and highlights that had aged his face. His hands worked quickly and methodically from years of long practice. Last, he combed a gel through his hair that effectively removed the sprayed-on streaks of gray. He checked his altered appearance in a small mirror hanging on the wall. Then this chameleon landscape was swiftly altered by a small bristly mustache applied with spirit gum, and a hair extender hung in a long ponytail out from under the Yankee baseball cap he was now putting on. Dark glasses covered his eyes; dress shoes were replaced with tennis shoes. He once again checked his appearance: completely different. He had to smile. It was quite a talent. When Jackson quietly left the building a few seconds later, Romanello’s features were relaxed, peaceful. They would forever remain so.

E
verything will be all right, LuAnn.” Roger Davis, the young, handsome man who had announced the lottery drawing, said these words as he patted her on the hand. “I know you have to be nervous but I’ll be right there with you. We’ll make it as painless as possible for you, I give you my word,” he said gallantly.

They were in a plush room inside the lottery building, just down the corridor from the large auditorium where a mass of press and regular folk awaited the latest lottery winner’s arrival. LuAnn wore a pale blue knee-length dress with matching shoes, her hair and makeup impeccable thanks to the in-house staff at the Lottery Commission. The cut on her jaw had healed enough that she had opted for makeup instead of the bandage.

“You look beautiful, LuAnn,” said Davis. “I can’t remember a winner looking so ravishing, I mean that.” He sat down right next to her, his leg touching hers.

LuAnn flashed him a quick smile, slid a couple of inches away, and turned her attention to Lisa. “I don’t want Lisa to have to go out there. All them lights and people would just scare her to death.”

“That’s fine. She can stay in here. We’ll have someone watching her of course, every minute. Security is very tight here as you can imagine.” He paused while he once again took in LuAnn’s shapely form. “We’ll announce that you have a daughter, though. That’s why your story is so great. Young mother and daughter, all this wealth. You must be so happy.” He patted her on the knee and then let his hand linger for a moment before pulling it away. She wondered again whether he was in on all of it. Whether he knew she had won an enormous fortune by cheating. He looked the type, she concluded. The kind who would do anything for money. She imagined he would be very well paid for helping to pull off something this big.

“How long until we go out there?” she asked.

“About ten minutes.” He smiled at her again and then said as casually as possible, “Uh, you weren’t exactly clear on your marital status. Will your husband—”

“I’m not married,” LuAnn said quickly.

“Oh, well, will the father of the child be attending?” He added quickly, “We just have to know for scheduling purposes.”

LuAnn looked dead at him. “No, he won’t.”

Davis smiled confidently and inched closer. “I see. Hmmm.” He made a steeple with his hands and rested them against his lips for a moment and then he laid one arm casually across the back of her seat. “Well, I don’t know what your plans are, but if you need anyone to show you around town I am absolutely here for you, LuAnn, twenty-four hours a day. I know after living all your life in a small town, that the big city”—Davis lifted his other arm dramatically toward the ceiling—“must be very overwhelming. But I know it like the back of my hand. The best restaurants, theaters, shopping. We could have a great time.” He edged still closer, his eyes hugging the contours of her body as his fingers drifted toward her shoulder.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Davis, I think maybe you got the wrong idea. Lisa’s father ain’t coming for the press conference, but he’s coming up after. He had to get leave first.”

“Leave?”

“He’s in the Navy. He’s with the SEALs.” She shook her head and stared off as if digging up some shocking memories. “Let me tell you, it downright scares me some of the stuff he’s told me about. But if there’s anybody that can take care of himself it’s Frank. Why, he beat six guys unconscious in a bar one time ’cause they were coming on to me. He probably would’ve killed them if the police hadn’t pulled him off, and it took five of them to do it, big, strong cops, too.”

Davis’s mouth dropped open and he scooted away from LuAnn. “Good Lord!”

“Oh, but don’t say nothing about that at the press conference, Mr. Davis. What Frank does is all top-secret-like and he’d get real pissed at you if you said anything. Real pissed!” She stared intently at him, watching the waves of fear pour over his pretty-boy features.

Davis stood up abruptly. “No, of course not, not one word. I swear.” Davis licked his lips and put a shaky hand through his heavily moussed hair. “I’d better go check on things, LuAnn.” He managed a weak smile and gave her a shaky thumbs-up.

She returned the gesture. “Thanks so much for understanding, Mr. Davis.” After he had gone, LuAnn turned back to Lisa. “You ain’t never gonna have to do that, baby doll. And pretty soon, your momma ain’t gonna have to do it no more either.” She cradled Lisa against her chest and stared across at the clock on the wall, watching the time tick down.

Charlie glanced around the crowded auditorium while he methodically pushed his way toward the front of the stage. He stopped at a spot where he could see clearly and waited. He would’ve liked to be up on the stage with LuAnn, giving her what he knew would be much needed moral support. However, that was out of the question. He had to remain in the background; raising suspicion was not part of his job description. He would see LuAnn after the press conference was completed. He also would have to tell her his decision about whether he would accompany her or not. The problem was he hadn’t made up his mind yet. He stuffed his hand in his pocket for a cigarette and then remembered smoking wasn’t permitted in the building. He really was craving the soothing influences of the tobacco and for a brief instant he contemplated sneaking outside for a quick one, but there wasn’t enough time.

He sighed and his broad shoulders collapsed. He had spent the better part of his life roaming from point to point with nothing in the way of a comprehensive plan, nothing resembling long-term goals. He loved kids and would never have any of his own. He was paid well, but while money went a long way toward improving his physical surroundings it didn’t really contribute to his genuine overall happiness. At his age, he figured this was as good as it was going to get. The avenues he had taken as a young man had pretty much dictated what the remaining years of his life would be like. Until now. LuAnn Tyler had offered him a way out of that. He held no delusions that she was interested in him sexually, and in the cold face of reality, away from her unpretentious and yet incredibly seductive presence, Charlie had concluded that he did not want that either. What he wanted was her sincere friendship, her goodness—two elements that had been appallingly lacking in his life. And that brought him back to the choice. Should he go or not? If he went, he had little doubt that he would enjoy the hell out of LuAnn and Lisa, with an added plus of being a father figure for the little girl. For a few years anyway. But he had sat up most of the night thinking about what would happen after those first few years.

It was inevitable that beautiful LuAnn, with her new wealth, and the refinement that would come from those riches, would be the target of dozens of the world’s most eligible men. She was very young, had one child, and would want more. She would marry one of these men. That man would assume the responsibilities of fathering Lisa, and properly so. He would be the man in LuAnn’s life. And where would that leave Charlie? He edged forward, squeezing between two CNN cameramen as he thought about this again. At some point, Charlie figured, he would be compelled to leave them. It would be too awkward. It wasn’t like he was family or anything. And when that time came it would be painful, more painful than allowing his body to be used for a punching bag during his youth. After spending only a few days with them, he felt a bond with LuAnn and Lisa that he had not managed to form in over ten years of marriage with his ex-wife. What would it be like after three or four years together? Could he calmly walk away from Lisa and her mother without suffering an irreparably broken heart, a screwed-up psyche? He shook his head. What a tough guy he had turned out to be. He barely knew these simple people from the South and he was now engulfed in a life-churning decision the consequences of which he was extrapolating out years into the future.

A part of him said simply go for the ride and enjoy the hell out of yourself. You could be dead from a heart attack next year, what the hell did it matter? The other part of him, though, he was afraid, was winning the day. He knew that he could be LuAnn’s friend for the rest of his life, but he didn’t know if he could do it close-up, every day, with the knowledge that it might end abruptly. “Shit,” he muttered. It came down to pure envy, he decided. If he were only twenty—he shrugged—okay, thirty years younger. Envy of the guy who would eventually win her. Win her love, a love that he was sure would last forever, at least on her side. And heaven help the poor man who betrayed her. She was a hellcat, that was easy to see. A firecracker with a heart of gold, but that was a big part of the attraction: Polar opposites like that in the same fragile shell of skin and bones and raw nerve endings was a rare find.

Charlie abruptly stopped his musings and looked up at the stage. The entire crowd seemed to tense all at once, like a biceps flexing and forming a ridge of muscle. Then the cameras started clicking away as LuAnn, tall, queenly, and calm, walked gracefully into their field of vision and stood before them all. Charlie shook his head in silent wonderment. “Damn,” he said under his breath. She had just made his decision that much harder.

Sheriff Roy Waymer nearly spit his mouthful of beer clear across the room as he watched LuAnn Tyler waving back at him from the TV. “Jesus, Joseph, Mary!” He looked over at his wife, Doris, whose eyes were boring into the twenty-seven-inch screen.

“You been looking for her all over the county and there she is right there in New York City,” Doris exclaimed. “The gall of that girl. And she just won all that money.” Doris said this bitterly as she wrung her hands together; twenty-four torn-up lottery tickets resided in the trash can in her back yard.