The Winner

  seemed so out of place with the rest of her. The scar also intrigued Riggs because, to his experienced eye, the wound seemed to have been made by a knife with a serrated edge. Most women, he figured, especially those who had the kind of money she obviously did, would have paid any amount to cover up that blemish.

  The pair of calm, hazel eyes that stared into Riggs made him conclude that this woman was different. The person he was looking at was one of those rare creations: a very lovely woman who cared little about her looks. As his eyes continued to sweep over her, he noted the lean, elegant, body; but from the smallish hips and waist there grew a breadth of shoulders that suggested exceptional physical strength. When her hand closed around his, he almost gasped. The grip was almost indistinguishable from Charlie’s.

  “I hope you’re okay,” said Riggs. “I got the plate number of the Honda. I was going to call it in to the cops, but my cell phone got broken when the guy hit me. The car’s probably stolen anyway. I got a good look at the guy. This is a pretty isolated place. We should be able to nail him, if we act fast enough.”

  LuAnn looked at him, confusion on her face. “What are you talking about?”

  Riggs blinked and stepped back. “The car that was chasing you.”

  LuAnn looked over at Charlie. Riggs watched closely but he saw no discernible signals passing between them. Then LuAnn pointed over at Riggs’s truck. “I saw that truck and another car driving erratically, but I didn’t stop to ask any questions. It was none of my business.”

  Riggs gaped for a moment before he responded. “The reason I was doing the two-step with the Honda was because he was trying his best to run you off the road. In fact, I almost took your place as the wreck of the week.”

  “Again, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. Don’t you think I would know if someone were trying to run me off the road?”

  “So you’re saying that you always drive eighty miles an hour around curvy, mountainous roads just for the fun of it?” Riggs asked heatedly.

  “I don’t think my driving methods are any of your concern,” she snapped back. “However, since you happen to be on my property, I think it is my concern to know why you’re here.”

  Charlie piped in. “He’s the guy who’s building the security fence.”

  LuAnn eyed Riggs steadily. “Then I would strongly suggest you concentrate on that task rather than come up here with some outrageous account of my being chased.”

  Riggs’s face flushed and he started to say something, but then decided against it. “Have a good day, ma’am.” He turned and headed back to his truck.

  LuAnn didn’t look back. She passed by Charlie without a glance and walked quickly into the house. Charlie stared after Riggs for a moment before shutting the door.

  As Riggs climbed back in his truck another car pulled up the drive. An older woman was driving. The back seat of the car was stacked with groceries. The woman was Sally Beecham, LuAnn’s live-in housekeeper, just back from early-morning grocery shopping. She glanced over at Riggs in a cursory fashion. Though his features were laced with anger, he curtly nodded at her and she returned the gesture. As was her custom, she pulled around to the side-load garage and hit the garage door opener clipped to the car’s visor. The door in from the garage led directly to the kitchen, and Beecham was an efficient person who detested wasted effort.

  As Riggs pulled off he glanced back up at the massive house. With so many windows staring back at him he didn’t catch the one framing LuAnn Tyler, arms folded across her chest, looking resolutely at him, a mixture of worry and guilt on her face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The Honda slowed down, turned off the back road, then made its way over a rustic wooden bridge spanning a small creek, and then disappeared into the thickness of the surrounding forest. The antenna clipped some of the overhanging branches, sending a shower of dewdrops onto the windshield. Up ahead, under an umbrella of oak trees, a small, ramshackle cottage was visible. The Honda pulled into the tiny backyard and then into a small shed located behind the cottage. The man closed the doors of the shed and walked up to the house.

  Donovan rubbed his lower back and then worked his neck around some in an attempt to overcome the aftereffects of his early morning escapade. He was still visibly shaking. Donovan stamped into the house, threw off his coat, and proceeded to make coffee in the small kitchen. Nervously smoking a cigarette while the coffee percolated, he looked outside the window with a slight feeling of apprehension, although he was fairly certain no one had followed him. He rubbed his brow. The cottage was isolated and the landlord didn’t know his real name or the reason he had decided to take up temporary residence here.

  The guy in the truck, who the hell had he been? Friend of the woman or some guy who had happened by? Since he had been seen, Donovan would have to shave off his beard and do something with his hair. He would also have to rent another car. The Honda was damaged and the guy in the truck could’ve gotten the license plate number. But the Honda was a rental, and Donovan had not used his real name in leasing it. He wasn’t worried about the woman doing anything about it, but the guy might put a crimp in his plans. He wouldn’t risk driving the Honda back into town to exchange it for another rental. He didn’t want to be spotted driving it, and he didn’t want to have to explain the damage to the bumper right now. Tonight, he’d walk to the main road and catch a bus into town, where he would pick up another rental car.

  He poured a cup of coffee and walked into the dining room that had been set up as an office. A computer terminal, printer, and fax and phone were set up on one table. File boxes were stacked neatly in one corner. On two walls hung several large bulletin boards. They were filled with newspaper clippings.

  The car chase had been stupid, Donovan muttered to himself. It was a miracle both of them weren’t dead in some ravine right now. Tyler’s reaction had absolutely astonished him. Although, thinking about it now, it probably shouldn’t have. She was scared, and she had ample reason to be. Donovan’s next problem was apparent. What if she disappeared again? Finding her the first time had been part hard work and part luck. There was no guarantee he would be as fortunate the next time. However, there was nothing he could do about that now. He could only wait and watch.

  He had established a contact at the regional airport who would advise Donovan if any person matching LuAnn Tyler’s description or traveling under the name Catherine Savage was headed out of the area via plane. Unless she had another identity already set up, it would be difficult for Tyler to travel any time soon except under the name Catherine Savage, and that would leave him a trail. If she left the area by means other than airplane, well, he could watch the house, but he couldn’t do it twenty-four hours a day. He briefly contemplated calling in reinforcements from the Trib, but there were many factors that cautioned him against doing that. He had worked alone for almost thirty years, and bringing in a partner now was not very appealing, even if the newspaper would consent to do it. No, he would do what he could to dog her movements, and he would work very hard to set up another face-to-face. He was convinced that he could make the woman trust him, work with him. He didn’t believe that she had killed anybody. But he was fairly certain that she and perhaps some of the other winners were hiding something about the lottery. He wanted that story, wherever it led him.

  A fire blazed in the hearth of the spacious two-story library, which had floor-to-ceiling maple bookcases on three walls and inviting, overstuffed furniture arranged in intimate conversation patterns. LuAnn sat on a leather sofa, her legs drawn up under her, bare feet protruding, an embroidered cotton shawl covering her shoulders. A cup of tea and a plate of uneaten breakfast sat on the table next to her. Sally Beecham, dressed in a gray uniform with a sparkling white apron, was just leaving, carrying the serving tray. Charlie closed the arched double doors behind her and sat down next to LuAnn.

  “Listen, are you gonna tell me what really happened or not?” When LuAnn didn’t answer, Charlie g
ripped one of her hands. “Your hands are like ice. Drink the tea.” He rose and stoked the fire until the flames made his face redden. He looked at her expectantly. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, LuAnn.”

  Over the last ten years a lasting bond had been built between the two that had seen them through many crises, both minor and major, in their travels. From the time Charlie had touched her shoulder as the 747 climbed into the skies, until they had arrived back in America, they had been inseparable. Even though his given name was Robert, he had taken “Charlie” as his accepted name. It wasn’t too far from the truth, as his middle name was Charles. What was in a name anyway? However, he referred to her as LuAnn only in private, as now. He was her closest friend and confidant, really her only one, since there were things she could not even tell her daughter.

  As he sat back down, Charlie winced in pain. He was acutely aware that he was slowing down, a process that was exacerbated by the rough treatment of his body in his youth. The difference in years between the two was now more pronounced than ever, as nature took its toll on him. Even with all that, he would do anything for her, would face any danger, confront any enemy she had with every ounce of strength and ingenuity he had left.

  It was the look in Charlie’s eyes as LuAnn read these very thoughts that made her finally start talking.

  “I had just left the house. He was standing in the middle of the driveway waving for me to stop.”

  “And you did?” Charlie’s tone was incredulous.

  “I didn’t get out of the car. I couldn’t exactly run over the man. If he tried anything, or pulled a gun, you can bet I would’ve done just that.”

  Charlie hitched one leg up over the other, an action that was accompanied by another painful wince. “Go on. Eat while you’re talking, and drink your tea! Your face is white as a sheet.”

  LuAnn did as he said, managing to get some bites of egg and toast down and a few sips of the hot tea. Putting the cup back down, she wiped her mouth with a napkin. “He motioned for me to roll the window down. I cracked it a bit and asked him what he wanted.”

  “Wait a minute, what’d he look like?”

  “Medium height, full beard, a little gray at the edges. Wire-rimmed glasses. Olive complexion, maybe a hundred sixty pounds. Probably late forties or early fifties.” Over the last ten years, memorizing minute details of people’s appearances had become second nature to LuAnn.

  Charlie mentally filed away her description of the man. “Go on.”

  “He said he was looking for the Brillstein Estate.” She hesitated and took another sip of the tea. “I told him that this wasn’t the place.”

  Charlie suddenly leaned forward. “What’d he say then?”

  Now LuAnn was perceptibly shaking. “He said he was looking for somebody.”

  “Who? Who?” Charlie asked again as LuAnn’s blank stare dropped to the floor.

  She finally looked up at him. “LuAnn Tyler from Georgia.”

  Charlie sat back. After a decade, they had pretty much put the fear of exposure on the back burner, though it was still there and always would be. Now that flame had just been rekindled.

  “Did he say anything else?”

  LuAnn rubbed the napkin across her dry lips and then sat back up. “He said something about wanting to talk to me. Then . . . I . . . I just went blank, slammed the accelerator, and almost ran over him.” She let all the air drain out of her after speaking. She looked over at Charlie.

  “And he chased you?”

  She nodded. “I’ve got strong nerves, Charlie, you know that, but they have their limits. When you’re going out for a relaxing early morning drive and you get hit with something like that instead?” She cocked her head at him. “God, I was just starting to feel comfortable here. Jackson hasn’t shown up, Lisa loves school, this place is so beautiful.” She fell silent.

  “What about the other guy, Riggs? Is his story true?”

  Suddenly agitated, LuAnn stood up and paced the room. She stopped and ran her hand fondly along a row of finely bound novels resting on the shelves. Over the years, she had read just about every book in the room. Ten years of intensive education with some of the finest private tutors had produced an articulate, polished, cosmopolitan woman far removed from the one who had run from that trailer, from those bodies. Now those bloody images would not budge from her mind.

  “Yes. He just jumped right into the middle of it. I probably would’ve lost the guy, anyway.” She added quietly, “But he did help me. And I would’ve liked to have thanked him. But I couldn’t exactly do that, could I?” She threw up her hands in frustration and sat back down.

  Charlie rubbed his chin as he pondered the situation.

  “You know, legally, the lottery scam amounts to a bunch of felonies, but the statute of limitations has expired on all of them. The guy can’t really hurt you there.”

  “What about the murder charge? There’s no statute of limitations on that. I did kill the man, Charlie. I did it in self-defense, but who the hell would believe me now?”

  “True, but the police haven’t pursued that case in years.”

  “Okay, do you want me to go turn myself in?”

  “I’m not saying that. I just think you might be blowing this out of proportion.”

  LuAnn trembled. Going to jail over the money or the killing was not her biggest concern. She put her hands together and looked over at Charlie.

  “My daddy probably never said one word to me that was true. He did his best to make me feel like the most worthless piece of trash in the world and any time I built up some confidence he’d come along and tear it down. The only thing I was good for according to him was making babies and looking pretty for my man.”

  “I know you had it rough, LuAnn—”

  “I swore to myself that I would never, ever do that to any child of mine. I swore that to God on a stack of Bibles, said it on my mother’s grave, and whispered it to Lisa while I was carrying her and every night for six months after she was born.” LuAnn swallowed hard and stood up. “And you know what? Everything I’ve told her, everything she knows about herself, you, me, every damned molecule of her existence is a lie. It’s all made up, Charlie. Okay, maybe the statute of limitations is expired, maybe I won’t go to jail because the police don’t care that I killed a drug dealer. But if this man has found out my past and he brings it all out into the open, then Lisa will know. She’ll know that her mother told her more lies than my daddy probably ever thought of in his entire life. I’ll be a hundred times worse than Benny Tyler, and I’ll lose my little girl as certain as the sun comes up. I’ll lose Lisa.” After this outburst, LuAnn shuddered and closed her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, LuAnn, I hadn’t thought about it like that.” Charlie looked down at his hands.

  LuAnn’s eyes opened and they held a distinctly fatalistic look. “And if that happens, if she finds out, then it’s over for me. Jail will seem like a day in the park, because if I lose my little girl, then I won’t have any reason to be anymore. Despite all this.” She swept her arms around the room. “No reason at all.”

  LuAnn sat back down and rubbed at her forehead.

  Charlie finally broke the silence. “Riggs got the license plate number. On both cars.” He fiddled with his shirt and added, “Riggs is an ex-cop, LuAnn.”

  Her head in her hands, LuAnn looked at him. “Oh God! And I didn’t think it could get any worse.”

  “Don’t worry, he runs your plate, he gets nothing except Catherine Savage with this address, legit Social Security number, the works. Your identity has no holes in it. Not after all this time.”

  “I think we have a very big hole, Charlie. The guy in the Honda?”

  Charlie conceded the point with a quick nod of his head. “Right, right, but I’m talking about Riggs. Your end with him is okay.”

  “But if he tracks the other guy down, maybe talks to him?”

  “Then maybe we got a big problem.” Charlie finished the thought fo
r her.

  “You think Riggs might do that?”

  “I don’t know. I do know that he didn’t buy your story about not knowing you were being chased. Under the circumstances, I don’t blame you for not acknowledging it, but an ex-cop? Hell, he’s got to be suspicious. I don’t think we can count on him letting it lie.”

  LuAnn rubbed the hair out of her eyes. “So what do we do?”

  Charlie gently took one of her hands. “You do nothing. You let old Charlie see what he can find out. We’ve been in tight places before. Right?”

  She slowly nodded and then licked her lips nervously. “But this might be the tightest one of them all.”

  Matt Riggs walked quickly up the steps of the old Victorian with a wraparound porch that he had meticulously restored over the last year. He had had a few years of carpentry and woodworking experience before coming to Charlottesville. They had been pursuits he had taken up to alleviate the stress that had come with what he used to do for a living. He wasn’t thinking about the graceful lines of his home right now, however.

  He went inside and down the hall to his office, for his home also housed his business. He shut the door, grabbed the phone, and placed a call to an old friend in Washington, D.C. The Honda had D.C. tags. Riggs was pretty sure what running the license plate would reveal: either a rental or stolen. The BMW would be another matter. At least he would find out the woman’s name, since it had suddenly occurred to him on the drive home that neither the man calling himself Charlie nor the woman had ever mentioned it. He was assuming the last name would be Savage and that the woman in the BMW was either Lisa Savage’s mother or perhaps, from her youthful looks, an older sister.

  A half hour later he had his answers. The Honda was indeed a rental out of the nation’s capital. Tom Jones was the name of the