Keller County Cops Book Seven: Code of Vengeance (28 page)

"Then this job opened up and you moved here, to a smaller market," Blaylock said.

She nodded and rubbed away her tears. A sob caught in her chest. "It... It was a chance to actually
be
an anchor and not just fill in for some well-known name. I love it. It's what I was meant to do, even if I never get to move back to a larger market, and if Maillet ruins it for me--"

"That son of a bitch." Keegan fisted her hands. "I'd like to choke him for you."

"Keegan--" Her fiancée sent her a warning look that made Mindy curious.

Keegan relaxed her hands and held them up. "Don't worry. It's just an expression."

"What was that all about?" Mindy's asked, going back over their words in her head. Even when she was upset, she could sniff out a story.

Blaylock quirked his mouth. "Nothing."

"Just a running joke." Keegan smiled at Mindy, but the motion seemed forced. "That's it."

"I see." Even though Mindy thought the other woman was lying, she decided to cut her losses and not press the issue. Her main concern was suppressing the little tidbit about her past she'd just shared. She glanced at Keegan, and then zeroed in on the sheriff. "Doesn't matter. Please... don't tell anyone about me. If the station manager finds out about that part of my life--"

"It's not us you have to worry about. It's Maillet," he said, fire returning to his eyes. "But don't worry. I'll take care of him."

"How? No one will believe you unless you tell them what he's holding over my head." She swallowed, hard. "And I can't let you do that."

"Don't worry. I'll get a couple of my detectives to check out Maillet. They might find something we can use to keep him quiet."

"Good luck finding something that big." The reporter scoffed. "I've looked, believe me, and I didn't find a single thing. If he's got skeletons in his closet, they're buried deep."

"Will Mindy's word be enough to take down Maillet if you go to the DA instead?" Keegan asked. "That might be easier."

"I don't know." Blaylock turned to Mindy. "Do you have any proof of the extortion?"

"Only a few texts and emails." Hope blossomed in her chest. "And phone calls. I can contact my provider and get a list for you. Will that be enough?"

"It'll help."

"Good, but don't go to the DA just yet," she said, fear overriding the thin thread of optimism winding through her chest. "Let your detectives check him out first. Everyone has things to hide. I can usually root 'em out, but Maillet is clever. Your people have resources I don't have, and they might have better luck."

"Even so, I think you should consider making a pre-emptive strike." Keegan lowered herself onto the couch and looked up at Blaylock. "We could get Willa to write a human interest story about Mindy, highlighting her rise from adversity."

"You mean tell everyone I used to strip?" Mindy gaped at the other woman before sinking down beside her. "That's what I'm trying to hide."

"I know, but if you handle it right, you have no need to hide anything anymore." She shrugged. "It's just an idea."

"It's actually a good one." The sheriff dropped into an armchair perpendicular to the sofa. "You'll diffuse the threat."

"I don't know..."

"Let Rick talk to Willa." Keegan looked at her fiancée. "She can write the story."

"Yes, and she'll keep anything you tell her confidential," he assured her. "No matter how inflammatory it might be. She's extremely trustworthy."

"What about your detectives?" Fresh tears filled Mindy's eyes. "Will they say anything?"

"No. I trust them with my life. If I tell them to keep something under wraps, they will."

"Well..." Mindy's heart rose into her throat as she looked back at Keegan. "Okay. Let's do all of the above, except for talking to the DA. You can ask your people to look into Maillet and line up a time for me to talk with Willa."

"Will do," the sheriff said, pulling out his cell phone. He got someone named C.J. on the line, and then rose and walked into the kitchen to talk with him.

Keegan put her hand on Mindy's arm. "You're doing the right thing."

"I hope so." She put her hand over Keegan's and released a shaky breath. "Otherwise, I'll have to reinvent myself, and I'm not sure I know how to do that."

*****

"Well, I'll be damned," C.J. said the second the info flashed onto his computer screen. The sheriff would
love
this. He turned to Jonah. "Look what I found."

"What is it?" His fellow detective leaned back in his chair and shot him a curious glance.

C.J. grinned.
"Mindy Ravens
isn't the reporter's real name. Seems she was born
Mindy Ann Herrington
. Her dad owned Herrington Furniture Company over in Long Beach."

"I remember that place. It went under when I was in high school, I think."

"Yep, it sure did." C.J. tapped the screen. "And guess who owned the loan outfit that foreclosed on the company?"

"No idea."

"Henry Maillet."

"Holy shit. And now Herrington's daughter is helping that rat bastard get elected? Bet she doesn't know he's responsible for her dad's bankruptcy. The man lost everything and became an alcoholic, from what I remember." Jonah scowled. "You'd better call Blaylock ASAP."

"That's next on my list." He snatched up the phone. "This might break things wide open."

His boss answered on the second ring. "Hello, Detective. Found something already?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah." He settled back and stared at the computer screen. "Didn't take me long to dig up something juicy on Maillet, and you aren't gonna believe it. Figured I'd better share with the class before you go and marry that girl."

"You know the story on that."

"Do I, sir?"

"Yeah, you do. Every last word," his boss growled. "So... what'd you find?"

"Do you remember Herrington Furniture over in Long Beach?" The sheriff said he did, so C.J. filled him in on the whole story about Mindy and Maillet and her father. He finished up with, "I doubt Mindy has any idea Maillet is the guy responsible. Her dad passed away last year, if I remember correctly. From complications due to alcohol abuse. He never recovered from losing everything."

"Son of a bitch. Email me that link, will you?"

"You bet. Want me to keep digging?"

"Yeah," Blaylock said. "See what you can dredge up about Maillet's loan company. We need to find out if his business practices are on the up and up."

"I'll do what I can."

"Thanks, C.J. If you run into a brick wall, you have my permission to contact the forensic accountant we used earlier this year in the Simon case.
Evans
was his name, I think."

"I remember him, sir." The detective opened his drawer. "I have his card around here somewhere."

"Good." His voice carried a grin. "Thanks for the update."

"No problem. I'll let you know if I find anything else or have to call in Evans."

"You do that."

"Oh, and sir--" C.J. paused for effect. "Abby and I want an invitation to the wedding."

"The wedding?" Blaylock echoed, sounding a bit shell-shocked. "What wedding?"

"Your
wedding... to Keegan Riley." He smirked. "'Cause I don't believe for one damned minute your engagement is fake."

*****

"What did your detective say?" Keegan asked Rick when she walked back into the living room. She'd slipped into the bathroom the moment he'd answered the phone so as not to disturb him or eavesdrop on his conversation. "Has he found anything on Maillet yet?"

"Huh?" He glanced up at her with a dazed expression.

She hurried across the rug and sat beside him. "What's wrong? What did he find?"

"Nothing."

"What do you mean,
nothing?"
Worry streaked through her. She gripped his hand. "Are you saying nothing's wrong, or that he hasn't found anything yet?"

"Oh, he found something, all right." Rick shook off his stupor, then grinned and told her Maillet's loan company was responsible for Mindy's father losing his business back in the day.

Keegan stared at him. "Are you serious? Wow. She'll go ballistic once she finds out."

"I know." He pressed his lips together. "I'm willing to bet he's followed her all these years, too. I mean, back then she was a pretty young girl, suddenly impoverished, living with a father who fell headlong into the bottle and a mom who struggled to make ends meet until her tired heart just gave out. Once she died, Mindy was easy prey."

"That would explain how he knew she used to strip at that little club."

"Exactly. He might've even arranged for her to get the job so he could ogle her." Rick squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. "Then he waited for the perfect moment to hold her sordid past over her head. When he was down in the polls and attempting to catch up."

"Is that enough to ruin him?" Hope filled her chest.

Rick met her eyes. "It's enough to destroy his campaign, I'm sure. I've got C.J. digging deeper into the loan fiasco that wiped out Herrington's business to see if it was legal. Told him to call in a forensic accountant if necessary. We need to know the truth."

"What about the extortion?"

"Jonah's working on it. Charges should be a given if Mindy follows through and asks her service providers for lists of all her texts, emails, and cell phone calls to Moss."

"I can't imagine her not cooperating."

"Me, either," he said, dropping her hand and picking up the TV remote. "Unless Maillet gets wind we know something and threatens her with physical harm. He's always been a bully."

"How would he find out?"

"Well, he could if C.J. asks the wrong person about Maillet's loan outfit." He adjusted his sling, turned on the noon news, and rested his good arm along the back of the sofa. Then he urged her to settle next to him.

Her heart fluttered as she leaned against his broad chest and focused on the screen. One of Mindy's fellow anchors, Todd Jenkins, sat behind the desk at WHBZ.

"And in breaking news," he said, his long face somber. "A Hunter's Bayou man is dead following a hit and run accident in Long Beach. Tom Foster, a man arrested twice for domestic abuse, was struck by a vehicle early this morning after he ran out of gas on Highway 90."

Keegan gasped and pulled away from Rick.

"One eyewitness claims to have seen a white SUV fleeing the scene at the time of the accident," Todd continued. "Anyone with knowledge of this incident is urged to contact the Keller County Sheriff's Department."

"Keegan?" Rick's deep rumble echoed in her ears. He put his hand on her back, leaned forward, and studied her face. "What's wrong? Did you know that guy?"

"Not personally, no... but I kind of did. In... in a manner of speaking." She swallowed, hard. How in the world could she tell Rick -- the sheriff -- that Foster had been her next target? Suddenly nauseated, she squirmed. She'd tagged him for revenge just like she had Dirk and Wicker, and now he was dead, too. She hadn't even had to lift a finger. 

Rick gripped her shoulder. "What are you saying? Tell me the truth."

"After Dave gunned down Wicker in the courtroom, I-I went through the files until I found someone else who'd gotten off with little or no punishment for hurting his wife."

"And you picked Tom Foster."

"Yes," she rasped, "but I never acted on my plan. You and Mindy found out about the classes I've taken, and--"

"That's what made you back off?" he asked, surprise flaring across his face. He dropped his hand. "Damn it, Keegan. I thought you were through seeking vengeance."

"I-I am now." She met his eyes and reeled from the disappointment embedded there. Her gut told her she'd better come clean with him once and for all, or he'd never consider making their engagement real. The realization she actually
wanted
to marry him sent a shaft of longing through her, and she peered down at the diamond ring sparkling on her left hand.

He nudged her. "And?"

"Once Mindy learned about all the classes I took, I stashed my weapons at my parents' place for safekeeping." Keegan's cheeks burned with shame. Rick had the power to arrest her, and yet she still poured out her plan. She was tired of secrets, tired of plotting alone. Tired of her fight for vengeance. "I-I intended to retrieve them later and take care of Foster, but then Willa suggested you and I should get engaged -- temporarily, of course -- and I lost focus."

"Your
weapons?"
His eyes changed from frothy gray to black. "What the hell, Keegan?"

"Yes. Weapons, plural. Guns, knives, a Taser, some pepper spray..." She longed to take his hand but feared he'd shun her, so she didn't move.

His threatening scowl darkened even more.
"Guns?
As in more than one?"

"Y-yes." She wet her lips, looked down at her hands, and reeled off everything she'd stuffed into the duffle bag. "Two shotguns and three pistols, to be exact. Plus four knives, the pepper spray, a Taser, some brass knuckles, and a leather sap."

"Holy mother of God."

"I-I've never actually used any of the weapons on anyone, even though I know how. The men I've targeted just seem to... to die without my help. Foster included."

"Thank goodness for that, or I'd have to lock you up." He turned to her then, and an odd mixture of awe and arousal lit his face. "Do you have a concealed carry permit?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." She lifted her chin. "I follow the rules, Sheriff."

"Except for the sixth commandment."

"You're wrong. I haven't killed anybody," she murmured, her shame returning in an astounding flash of heat. She gripped his hand. "And my quest for vengeance is over. Trust me."

"I hope you mean that," he said, his face grave. "'Cause I can't very well--"

"You can't condone my actions. I know." She interlaced their fingers. They were a perfect fit. She squeezed his hand and looked up at him. "Don't worry, Rick. I-I don't plan to ever choose another target. Hell, every time I do, the person dies. How can I take that chance when I'm engaged to marry the county sheriff?"