The Winner (34 page)

Riggs nodded and looked around. “I saw the pool area. Are you planning on a poolhouse and maybe tennis courts?”

“Next spring. Why?”

“I was just thinking that we might want to tie those and the studio into an overall plan. You know, use the same materials or some combo thereof with the poolhouse and the studio.”

LuAnn shook her head. “No, I want it separate. We’ll put in a large gazebo for outdoor entertaining and all that. It’ll be mostly Lisa using the pool and tennis courts. I want those facilities closer to the main house. The pool is already close. The studio I want farther away. Sort of hidden.”

“That’s fine. You certainly have the land.” He checked out the slope of the property. “So do you swim or play tennis?”

“I can swim like a fish, but I’ve never played tennis and I really don’t have any desire to start.”

“I thought all rich people played tennis. That and golf.”

“Maybe if you’re born with money. I haven’t always been wealthy.”

“Georgia.”

LuAnn looked sharply at him. “What?”

“I’ve been trying to place your accent. Lisa’s is all over the place. Yours is very faint, but it’s still there. I’d guess you spent a lot of years in Europe, but you know what they say, you can take the girl out of Georgia but you can’t take Georgia out of the girl.”

LuAnn hesitated for a moment before replying. “I’ve never been to Georgia.”

“I’m surprised. I’m usually pretty good at gauging that.”

“Nobody’s perfect.” She flicked her hair out of her eyes. “So what do you think?” She looked at the clearing.

Riggs stared at her curiously for a moment before answering. “We’ll have to draw up plans. They’ll help you get it exactly the way you want, although it sounds like you have a pretty good idea already. Depending on the size and complexity, it could take anywhere from two to six months.”

“When could you start?”

“Not any time this year, Catherine.”

“You’re that busy?”

“It’s got nothing to do with that. No sane builder would start on a project like that now. We need architectural plans and we also need to get building permits. The ground will be freezing soon and I don’t like to pour footers after that. And we wouldn’t be able to get it framed and under roof before winter set in. Weather can get real nasty up here. This is definitely a next spring project.”

“Oh.” LuAnn sounded deeply disappointed. She stared off at the site as though she were seeing her hideaway fully completed.

Trying to make her feel better Riggs said, “Spring will be here before you know it, Catherine. And the winter will allow us to work up a really good set of plans. I know a first-rate architect. I can set up a meeting.”

LuAnn was hardly listening. Would they even be here next spring? Riggs’s news about the construction schedule had dissipated much of her enthusiasm for the project.

“I’ll see. Thanks.”

As they walked back to the house Riggs touched her shoulder. “I take it you’re not into delayed gratification. If I could put it up for you right now, I would. Some sleazy builders might take on the job and charge you a healthy premium and then proceed to turn out a piece of crap that’ll fall down in a year or two. But I take pride in my work and I want to deliver a quality job for you.”

She smiled at him. “Charlie said you had excellent references. I guess I can see why.”

They were passing by the horse barn. LuAnn pointed at it and said, “I guess that counts as a hobby. You ride?”

“I’m no expert, but I won’t fall off either.”

“We should go for a ride sometime. There are some beautiful trails around here.”

“I know,” was Riggs’s surprising reply. “I used to walk them before this property was sold. You made an excellent choice in real estate, by the way.”

“Charlie found it.”

“He’s a good person to have around.”

“He makes my life a lot easier. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Nice to have somebody like that in your life.”

She cast a furtive glance at him as they continued back to the house.

C
harlie met them at the rear entrance. There was a suppressed excitement in his manner, and the darting glances he gave LuAnn told her the reason: Pemberton had found where the man in the Honda was staying.

While not showing it, Riggs picked up on the subtle undercurrents.

“Thanks for the lunch,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve got things to do and I’ve got some appointments to take care of this afternoon.” He looked over at LuAnn. “Catherine, let me know about the studio.”

“I will. Call me about going for a ride.”

“I’ll do that.”

After he left, Charlie and LuAnn went into Charlie’s study and closed the door.

“Where is the guy?” she asked.

“He’s our neighbor.”

“What?”

“A little rental cottage. Pretty isolated. It’s not more than four miles from here up Highway Twenty-two. I looked at some land up near there when we were thinking of building. Used to be a big estate up there but now there’s just the caretaker’s cottage. Remember, we took a drive up there a while back?”

“I remember exactly. You could walk or ride it through the back trails. I’ve done it. The guy could have been spying on us for a while.”

“I know. That’s what worries me. Pemberton gave me exact directions to the place.” Charlie laid the paper with the directions down on his desk while he pulled on his coat.

LuAnn took the opportunity to scan surreptitiously the directions and commit them to memory.

Charlie unlocked a drawer of his desk. LuAnn’s eyes widened as she watched him pull out the .38. He proceeded to load it.

“What are you going to do?” she said fiercely.

He didn’t look at her as he checked the safety and put the gun in his pocket. “Like we planned, I’m going to go check it out.”

“I’m going with you.”

He looked at her angrily. “The hell you are.”

“Charlie, I am.”

“What if there’s trouble?”

“You’re saying that to me?”

“You know what I mean. Let me check it out first, see what the guy’s up to. I’m not going to do anything dangerous.”

“So why the gun?”

“I said
I’m
not going to do anything dangerous. I don’t know about him.”

“I don’t like it, Charlie.”

“You think I do? I’m telling you, it’s the only way. Something happens, the last thing I want is you in the middle of it.”

“I’ve never expected you to fight my battles for me.”

He touched her cheek gently. “You’re not exactly twisting my arm here. I want you and Lisa to be safe and sound. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve kind of made that my life’s work. By choice.” He smiled.

She watched him open the door and start to head out. “Charlie, please be careful.”

He looked back, noting the worry in her features.

“LuAnn, you know I’m always careful.”

As soon as he left, LuAnn went to her room, changed into jeans and a warm shirt, and pulled on sturdy boots.

In case you hadn’t noticed, Charlie,
my
life’s work is to make sure
you and Lisa
are safe and sound.

She grabbed a leather jacket from her closet and raced out of the house in the direction of the horse barn. She saddled Joy and then galloped off toward the maze of trails behind the mansion.

As soon as Charlie hit the main road, Riggs started to follow from a safe distance in the Cherokee. Riggs had thought it a fifty-fifty possibility that something was going to happen as soon as he left. A friend of Riggs had mentioned seeing Pemberton and Charlie having breakfast the day before. That was smart on Charlie’s part, and indeed, was probably the path Riggs would have taken to track down the man in the Honda. That and Charlie’s excited manner had been enough to convince Riggs that something was up. If he had been wrong, he wouldn’t have wasted much time. He kept the Range Rover just in sight as it turned north onto Highway 22. It wasn’t easy being invisible on the rural road, but Riggs was confident he could manage it. On the seat next to him was his shotgun. This time he would be prepared.

Charlie glanced to the right and left as he pulled the Range Rover underneath the cover of trees and then stopped. He could see the cottage up ahead. He might have wondered who would have built the place in the middle of nowhere, but Pemberton had informed him that the house had been a caretaker’s cottage for a vast estate that was no longer in existence. Ironic that the tiny structure had outlived the main house. He gripped the pistol in his pocket and got out. Threading his way through the thick trees behind the cottage, he made his first stop the shed. Rubbing away the dirt and grime on the window he was able barely to make out the black Honda inside. For this, he and LuAnn owed Pemberton a nice little donation to a charity of his choice.

Charlie waited about another ten minutes, his gaze glued to the small cottage, looking for any movement, any shadows falling across the windows. The place appeared unoccupied but the car in the shed belied that appearance. Charlie moved forward cautiously.

He glanced around but did not notice Riggs crouched behind a stand of thick holly bushes to the left of the house.

Riggs lowered his binoculars and surveyed the area. Like Charlie, he had detected no movement or sound coming from the cottage but that didn’t mean anything. The guy could be in there just waiting for Charlie to put in an appearance. Shoot first and ask questions later. Riggs gripped his shotgun and waited.

The front door was locked. Charlie could have smashed a glass pane next to the door and unlocked the door from the inside, or simply kicked the door until it tore loose from the doorjamb—it didn’t look all that sturdy. However, if the house was indeed occupied, knocking down the door might prompt a deadly response. And, if it wasn’t occupied, he didn’t want to leave any evidence that he had been to the cottage. Charlie knocked on the door, his pistol half out of his pocket. He waited and knocked again. There was no answer. He slid the gun back in his pocket and looked at the lock, a common pin tumbler, to his expert eye. He pulled out two items from his inner coat pocket: a straight pick and a tension tool. Fortunately, arthritis had not yet set into his fingers or he would not have had the dexterity needed to pick the lock. He first slid the pick into the keyhole and then eased the tension tool underneath the pick. Using the pick, Charlie raised the tumbler pins to their open position, and the constant pressure from the tension tool kept the tumbler pins open. Charlie manipulated the pick, sensing the subtle vibrations of the pins until he was rewarded with a click. He turned the doorknob and the door swung open. He replaced his tools in his coat. His State Pen degree had once again worked its magic. All the while he listened intently. He was well aware that a trap could be awaiting him. His hand closed around the .38. If the guy gave Charlie the opportunity to use it he would. The ramifications of such an act were too numerous to analyze; however, at least a few of them would be better than outright exposure.

The cottage’s interior was of a simple configuration. The hallway ran from front to back, splitting the space into roughly equivalent halves. The kitchen was in the back on the left; the small dining room fronted that. On his right was an equally modest living room. Tacked on to the rear of that was a combination mud room/laundry room. Plain wooden stairs on the right made their way to the bedrooms on the second floor. Charlie observed little of this, because his attention was riveted on the dining room. He stared in amazement at the computer, printer, fax, and stacks of file boxes. He moved closer as his eyes swept to the bulletin board with all the news clippings and photos affixed to it.

He mouthed the headlines. LuAnn’s face was prominent among the various photos. The whole story was there: the murders, LuAnn winning the lottery, her disappearance. Well, that had confirmed his suspicions. Now it remained to discover who the man was and, more important, what he wanted from them.

He made his way around the room, carefully lifting papers here and there, studying the clippings, examining the file boxes. His eyes diligently searched for anything that would identify the man; however, there was nothing. Whoever was pursuing them knew what he was doing.

Charlie moved to the desk and carefully slid open a drawer. The papers in there yielded nothing new. He tried the other drawers with similar results. For a moment he thought about turning on the computer but his skills with that technology were about nil. He was about to begin a search of the rest of the house when a solitary box in the far corner caught his eye. He might as well hit that too, he figured.

Lifting off the top, Charlie’s eyes immediately started to twitch uncontrollably. The word “shit” passed almost silently from between his lips and his legs made a serious threat of giving out on him.

A single piece of paper stared back at him. The names were listed neatly on it. LuAnn’s name was there. Most of the remaining names represented people Charlie was also familiar with: Herman Rudy, Wanda Tripp, Randy Stith, Bobbie Jo Reynolds among others. All past lottery winners. Most of them Charlie had personally escorted, like LuAnn. All of them, he knew, had won their fortunes with Jackson’s help.

Charlie steadied himself by placing a shaking hand on top of the windowsill. He had been prepared to find evidence of the man knowing all about the murders and LuAnn’s involvement. He had not been at all prepared to learn that the lottery scam had been uncovered. The hairs on his forearms felt like they had suddenly been electrified.

How? How could the guy have found out? Who the hell was he? He quickly put the boxtop back, turned, and headed out the door. He made sure it was locked before shutting it. He swiftly retraced his steps to the Range Rover, climbed in, and drove off.

Donovan headed down Route 29. He had been on the road the better part of two hours on his return trip from Washington and he was anxious to get back on the hunt. He sped up as he neared his final destination. On the drive down, he had thought of the next steps he would employ against LuAnn Tyler. Steps designed to make her cave in and do so quickly. If one approach failed, he would find another. The saving grace in all of this—a look of deep satisfaction came to his features as he thought of it—was that he had LuAnn Tyler over a barrel. The oft-quoted phrase was quite true: A chain was only as strong as its weakest link. And LuAnn, you are that rusty link, he said to himself. And you’re not going to get away. He checked his watch. He would be at the cottage shortly. On the seat next to him was a small-caliber pistol. He didn’t like guns, but he wasn’t stupid either.