Best Kept Secrets(105)

opened her handbag and withdrew two plain white envelopes.

She pushed them toward him. "What's this?"

"My letter of resignation, and a letter of intent to file a

civil suit against the Mintons and Reede Lambert."

He almost swallowed his cigarette. "What? You can't."

"I can. I will. There's enough evidence to bring a civil

suit against them for the murder of my mother. I'll sue them

for so much money in damages that opening a racetrack will

be out of the question. Reede Lambert's career will be shot

to hell, too. They won't go to jail, but they'll be ruined."

"you win."

"It won't matter if I do or not. In a civil suit, they can't

plead the Fifth to avoid incrimination. No matter what they

say, everyone will presume they're lying. The racing commission

would have no choice but to reverse its decision and

revoke the gambling license."

"So, what this all boils down to is money?" he cried. "Is

that what you've been after all along?"

Her pale cheeks sprouted dots of color. "It's beneath even

you to say something like that to me. I demand your apology."

Greg muttered a string of oaths. "Okay, I'm sorry. But,

you mean this, don't you?"

"Yes, I do."

He deliberated for a full minute longer before grumbling,

"I ought to have my head examined." Pointing a stern finger

at her, he said, "Stay the hell out of trouble. Make sure

you've loaded both barrels before you go after somebody,

particularly Wallace. If you screw up and I get my ass chewed

on, I'll claim you were a naughty girl and that I had nothing



to do with your actions. And, your original deadline sticks.

Got that?"

"Got it," she said, coming to her feet. "You'll be hearing

from me as soon as I know something."

"Alex?" She was already at the door. When she looked

back at him, he asked, "What's going on with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Any reason in particular why you look like the ghost of

Christmas, dead and buried?"

"I'm just tired."

He didn't believe her, but he let it go. After she'd left, he

reached for the two envelopes she'd shoved across his desk.

He ripped open the first, then, more hastily, the second.

Greg Harper practically hurdled his desk and lunged for

the door of his office. "Alex, you bitch!" he roared down

the empty corridor.

"She just left," his startled secretary informed him. "With

a man."

"Who?"

"A cowboy in a fur-trimmed leather jacket."

Greg returned to his desk, wadded the two empty envelopes

into balls, and shot them at the wastebasket.



It was close to sundown when Reede wheeled his Blazer

into the parking lot of the Westerner Motel.

"Just drop me at the lobby, please," Alex told him. "I

need to check for messages."

Reede did as she asked without comment. They'd had very

little to say to each other since their awkward reunion outside

the D.A.'s office. The flight home had been uneventful. Alex

had dozed most of the way.

Reede had passed the time watching Alex doze.

No less than a thousand times during the night, he'd almost

gone back to her condo. Looking at the crescent-shaped circles

beneath her eyes while she slept, he didn't know how

he could have walked away from her. She had needed someone

with her last night. He'd been the only one available.



But no one had ever presented him a prize for being a good

Boy Scout. If he had stayed, he couldn't have kept his hands,

or his mouth, or his cock, away from her. That's why he had

left. Their needs hadn't been compatible.

Now, she was hesitating, half in, half out of the truck.

"Well, thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Are you sure you won't let me pay you?"

He didn't honor that with an answer. Instead, he asked a

question of his own. "What was the big powwow about?"

"A case I was working on before I left. The other prosecutor

needed some facts cleared up."

"And they couldn't be cleared up over the phone?"

"It was complicated."

He knew she was lying, but saw no reason to pursue it.

"So long."

She stepped to the ground and, pulling the strap of her

heavy bag onto her shoulder, went into the motel lobby, where

the clerk greeted her and handed her a stack of messages.

Reede backed up and turned the truck around. He was about

to pull out when he noticed that Alex had slowed down to

read one of the messages. Her face had grown even paler

than it already was. He shoved the transmission into Park

and got out.