A Woman of Fortune (6 page)

Garrett quickly pulled his iPhone from his pocket. “Dad, what's going on?”

“Just call him!” Tuck said.

In the background, Claire could hear a hush fall over the crowd. The shorter guy in the suit stepped forward with a pair of handcuffs.

“Theodore Massey, you are under arrest.”

3

C
laire tried hard to focus on the man before her, not on the chaos she knew was still going on downstairs. “Ranger, what are you saying?”

Tuck's attorney glanced around their hotel suite, his hand fiddling with his felt cowboy hat. “Claire,” Ranger began, his voice taking on the tone of someone speaking with a child, “from the looks of things, a federal grand jury has indicted Tuck on multiple counts of felony wire fraud, mail fraud, false representation, and criminal forfeiture.”

Garrett paced the floor, his face flushed. “But what does all that mean?”

Ranger's features grew grim. He placed his hat on the coffee table and pulled a thick, stapled document from the briefcase at his feet. “I'm afraid the government believes your father engaged in illegal activity whereby he ran a Ponzi scheme of sorts.”

“A what?” Marcy asked, looking quickly at Garrett for understanding, then back at Ranger.

“It's alleged Tuck sold phantom cattle.” Ranger cleared his throat and thumbed through the pages. “Another way of putting it is that he sold the same cows to multiple parties, each time collecting funds from buyers.” Looking up, his eyes moved in Claire's
direction. “I've only been able to briefly read the indictment, but as I see it, the grand jury findings also show Tuck managed to secure bank loans with the fake cattle and took money from investors to feed cattle that didn't exist.”

Claire's heart pounded. She shook her head vehemently. “No—no, Tuck would never do something like that.”

Ranger released a heavy sigh. “Look, the firm will get this sorted out. But I have to warn you, there must be substantial evidence for the grand jury to issue this indictment. Right now our focus will be damage control. I'm not going to lie and tell you this situation is not very serious,” he explained, his face flushed with sympathy.

She swallowed against a knot forming in her throat. “Do they want Tuck to spend time in . . . in prison?”

“Let's not focus on possibilities we have no way to ascertain at this time. But I want a lid on all this,” he said. “None of you is to speak about Tuck's arrest or any of his business dealings to anyone when we leave this room, and that includes friends. Anything—and I emphasize
anything
—you say could be used as evidence against Tuck.” Ranger paused. “We don't know how far all this might extend. Where is your younger son?”

Claire took a deep breath. “He's—uh, Max skipped this event. He's likely at his place. We'll alert him as soon as possible. But he'll know not to say anything.”

Garrett paced in front of Claire. “Oh, c'mon, Mom. Max works for a newspaper.”

“But this is family.” She stood. “Look, these accusations are all a misunderstanding. You know your father would never do such things.” Claire moved to the window, drew back the heavy draperies, and peeked out at the city lights. Likely most of the guests had left the gala by now, except for the hangers-on. The ones who wanted to enjoy the details of this sordid example of government gone wrong.

Claire whipped around and pointed her manicured nail. “Ranger, I want y'all to prepare a lawsuit. For defamation of character and—
and whatever else you can claim. Throw the book at whoever is heading this up. I don't care what it costs.”

“Mom, stop.” Lainie's voice broke into Claire's tirade. “You don't get it.”

Garrett flinched. He turned his attention to Ranger. “Where's Dad now?”

Ranger scratched at his sideburns. “I don't know exactly, but my guess is the US marshals transported him to FCI in Fort Worth.”

Marcy looped her hand through Garrett's arm. “FCI?”

“Federal Correction Institution. A low-security holding facility. He'll be in no danger,” he hurried to add, likely for Claire's benefit.

US marshals . . . holding facility . . . no danger.

Claire's conscious mind rejected these foreign concepts while a small voice inside her head argued. Her life had just become a roadside bomb with few survivors. “What do we do now?” Her voice cracked as she pushed the words past her dry throat.

“I've made some calls to my partners. We'll be meeting as soon as I get back to the office.” Ranger Jennings slid his hat onto his head. “News will break soon. That'll mean increased security for all of you, and out at Legacy. In the meantime, the firm will work to prepare a statement for you to release at the appropriate time.”

“What kind of statement?” Garrett stood and followed Ranger to the door.

Tuck's attorney paused, his hand on the doorknob. “At this early stage, we'll want to stay noncommittal. We'll simply say we're investigating and intend to vigorously defend Tuck against the accusations made.”

Lainie leapt from her chair. “But wait! What do I tell Reece?” Her fingers slid through her hair. She moaned. “And his supporters?”

Claire's mind raced to the hundreds of people who had witnessed Tuck being taken into custody. With jaws clenched, she recalled the image of Tuck's hands behind his back—handcuffed.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her wildly beating heart.

Surely none of this was true. Tomorrow she'd wake realizing
she'd been caught up in some bad dream. She'd relay the surreal events to Tuck over eggs Benedict and sausages, and together they'd laugh. He'd torment her with a silly wink and blow her a kiss across the table.

Oh, Tuck, what have you done?

A hushed sob escaped Claire's carefully constructed emotional levee. She buried her head in her hands.

This wasn't a bad dream—this was a nightmare.

4

I
ronic how the “nice” girls his mother pushed on him were often the most forward when it came right down to things, a fact Max argued with his mother on more than one occasion, before giving in to her constant attempts to manage his love life.

“You could come upstairs if you want. My roommate's staying over with her boyfriend tonight.” The pretty interior design major from TCU put her hand on his arm, clearly signaling an invitation.

“Nah. I appreciate it and all, but I have to get up early. I have a deadline tomorrow and I need to get some shut-eye so my head will be sharp in the morning.”

Max hated turning her down, but word would get back to his mother if he crossed the line with another of her friend's daughters.

Mom, bless her snooty Texas heart, would run tell Dad, creating one more wedge. The last thing he needed was to have to sit and listen to another of his father's thirty-minute expositions on responsibility and the Massey family image. Or worse, feel Garrett's disapproving stare-down while he stood in the corner with his arms folded, nodding in agreement.

Max doubted Garrett had stayed over with Marcy until after they were wed. Yup, he was sure of it.

And Lainie—well, he adored his sister. But hello, that girl could do no wrong. She had Mom and Dad wrapped.

“You sure?” The girl scooted closer, letting her skirt rise a little higher.

Max pulled her close and kissed her. The girl's lips were soft and anxious. Perhaps he should reconsider, face the consequences tomorrow.

In the background, a radio announcer's voice cut into the heat being generated inside the Jeep.

“In breaking news, a grand jury has indicted Texas financier Theodore Massey on multiple counts of fraud and racketeering. In a stunning move by federal agents, Mr. Massey was led in handcuffs from the Grand Ballroom at the Adolphus Hotel, where he and his family were attending a fund-raiser gala for US senatorial candidate Reece Sandell. Sandell, who is engaged to Mr. Massey's daughter, declined comment at this time.”

Max pulled back. The air inside his Jeep instantly felt weighted, as if he were breathing lead. “Turn it up,” he shouted.

The girl frowned and straightened. “What?”

“Look, you need to get out now. I gotta go.”

“But—”

“Now!” he barked. “Get out.”

The instant he heard the door click shut and knew his date was a safe distance away, Max threw his Jeep into gear. The tires screeched as he tore down the oak-lined street.

From her seat in the helicopter, Claire scoured the ground below. Even in the blackness of night, she could see a tangle of headlights at the gate leading into Legacy Ranch.

She looked across at Garrett, who sat clutching his wife's trembling hand. Despite their wearing headphones to soften the sound, the loud whirr of blades drowned out any attempt to talk, even if they had wanted to.

Thank goodness Garrett had the good sense to know driving home was no option. They'd never make it through the mass of reporters camped at the gate waiting for a glimpse of the family who'd just been harpooned in a very public fishbowl.

Claire wished Lainie had come home with them, but her daughter had vehemently refused. “I need to talk with Reece,” she'd declared, her eyes wild with hurt and confusion.

“Honey, it's far too late tonight,” Claire told her. But Lainie said she'd rather stay over in the hotel if necessary. Clearly, leaving her daughter alone had not been a good idea. But Claire had been too fatigued to fight.

As the helicopter descended onto the landing pad, Claire checked her phone again to see if Max had called or left a text.

Nothing.

Minutes later, she ducked and followed her son and daughter-in-law out the hinged doorway. The moving air from the propellers caught her hair, lifting her highlighted tresses into a wild dance circling her head. She'd often shifted a scarf in place to avoid that very thing. But tonight, what did it really matter?

Claire waved for Garrett and Marcy to follow her to the house. Her older son shook his head. “We're heading to our place,” he shouted. “We need some time alone. To sort all this out.”

She understood. The mountain of things to consider loomed higher than Mount Everest, and for a gal who'd grown up in the flat of Texas, that idea felt overwhelming.

She and Garrett would meet with Ranger again in the morning. By then, her husband's attorney might know a little more. She'd tell him she wanted to see Tuck. Obviously something had gone terribly wrong in Tuck's business, but she sensed things could get blown out of proportion. Especially by overzealous prosecutors and the media.

They'd have to hire a publicist—a good one. From the looks of the gate out there, reporters would no doubt spin this story into a frenzied mess. The Masseys needed to put out an official state
ment, and fast. Curb the public's appetite for a salacious story that simply was not true.

No doubt Reece's campaign had taken a hit. But with the right handling, the impact could be contained.

She rounded the corner. Both her feet and her heart stopped.

Their circular drive was littered with strange vehicles. Claire stepped closer to one of the black cars and eyed the license plate.

US
Marshal Service?

The double doors leading to the entry foyer opened. Out stepped two men dressed in dark suits. They carried large blue plastic bins.

“What's going on here?” Claire asked, moving forward.

Margarita stood in the doorway. The older woman clasped her hands. “Mrs. Massey, I tried to—I didn't know what to do.” Tears pooled and her housekeeper shook her head.

Claire held up a hand. “Don't worry, Margarita. I've got this.” She turned to another agent carrying a computer in his arms. “Excuse me! What is going on here? Could somebody explain where you think you're taking our things?”

Even as the words left her mouth, Claire recalled a number of movies where she'd seen this very image played out. In her gut, she instinctively suspected the answer. Still, she drew a deep breath and continued in the strongest voice she could muster. “Do you have a warrant or something?”

At the same time, she pulled her phone from her bag and worked her thumbs, furiously texting a message to Garrett.

A man who seemed to be in charge stepped forward. He showed a badge. “I'm Deputy Chief Hodges—US Attorney's Office. I head up the Fraud Task Force.” He nodded to a second man who wore a jacket with the words “US Marshal” on the backside. The man with the jacket offered up a stapled document to Claire.

Hodges's liquid black eyes turned serious. “We're here to execute a warrant for search and seizure. You will be provided a receipt for all property confiscated pursuant to the judge's orders.”

“Judge's orders?” Claire asked, her voice now timid. She didn't blink. She wasn't sure she even breathed.

Margarita looked to the sky and muttered, “Oh, sweet Jesus. Help the Masseys.”

A deep trembling rolled through Claire's gut, and she swallowed a wave of nausea. Strangers had rifled through their personal belongings. In an agent's hands, she spotted their family photo albums. Her scrapbooks.

Oh, Lord, help.

Claire's knees turned weak and seemed to fold like cards beneath her. She plummeted to the shiny tiles of the front porch, next to a manicured shrub in a ceramic pot.

Margarita rushed to her side. When the agents tried to assist, her trusted housekeeper shooed at them with her hand towel. “No, I've got
mi la jefa
,” she said, reverting to her native language.

In the distance, the sound of a car engine gunned. Within seconds, Max's yellow Jeep broke into view from the dark lane. His tires screeched. She heard a car door slam shut.

“Hey, what's going on?” Max rushed forward. Margarita stepped aside as he knelt beside Claire.

Claire glanced up, her eyes pooled with tears. Her younger son's arms enveloped her shoulders and he helped her to her feet.

Biting her bottom lip, she leaned her head against his shoulder. “Max, do something,” she whispered. “Can't you stop them?”

As agents continued moving boxes into the waiting trailer, Garrett thundered up the steps. Marcy followed close behind, shaking her head wildly. “Garrett, didn't I tell you this would happen?”

“They've got a warrant,” Max explained before his older brother had a chance to ask.

“A search warrant?” Confusion and anger packed Garrett's words.

The man from the US Attorney's Office stepped forward. “We've already collected materials from your father's personal office. We'll need access to the corporate office and your place as well.”

Marcy's hand flew to her chest. “Our house?” She looked to Garrett. Raw fear quickly spread across her features.

Suddenly the implication of Tuck's arrest dawned on Claire. These enforcement officers were after blood. They wouldn't stop until her entire family festered in their sick attempt to take Tuck down.

If proven true, the allegations against Tuck held the gravity of a boulder rolling out of control. Everyone in the path could potentially be mowed under with the force.

Claire's mind replayed the panicked look in Lainie's eyes as the handcuffs clicked shut around her father's wrists, the anguish on Margarita's face, her sons now trying to hide their own surge of emotions. Garrett wiped tears from Marcy's eyes, quietly assuring his wife everything would be all right. In that instant, Claire knew one thing for certain.

Her family's world had forever changed.