fear of being caught.
Now, she was standing on her own two feet. She had a job, and another chance with her family. All her past doings were being revealed in the light of day, and she was the one doing the revealing. It had been her choice.
She almost laughed at the blood-pounding truth that swept through her. The secret to true safety lay in having no secrets at all.
“Come on, Tanyalee.” Wim leaned closer to the Plexiglas. “I’ve still got a few accounts they haven’t seized. I can make it worth your while.”
She stood, still holding the phone. “I’m sorry, Wim. I’m not buyin’ what you’re sellin’.”
His pasty face hardened. “You little—”
She held up one finger to him and smiled distantly. “Thank you for meeting with me, Wim. Thankyousoverymuch.”
Click.
As she sashayed away from the silent fit Wim was throwing on the other side of the glass, she took a deep breath of Hawaiian Delite mingled with Eau de County Jail.
Smells like freedom to me.
She wasn’t finished, not by a long shot. She had been real busy in her bad ole days, so this ninth “stepping stone,” as Viv called it, was going to be a job of work. However, she knew without a doubt that she could do it.
Next up, Granddaddy Garland.
Then came Cheri and J.J.
One day at a time.
As she approached the exit, Tanyalee noticed that the guard she’d found so intimidating on her way in was in fact gazing at her with shy admiration. He held the door for her as she left the visitation room, and even lifted a finger to his forehead, as if tipping an imaginary cowboy hat.
“Ma’am,” he said, in that Southern way that meant “hello” and “good-bye” and “have a nice day, gorgeous” all in one. He was a big fellow, brawny with a beer belly, not her type at all, but she was so relieved that she cast him a dazzling smile and even threw a little twitch into her hips as she walked past him. Nothing unladylike, of course. She was Tanyalee Marie Newberry, after all.
* * *
The timid knock on Wainright Miller’s office door caused him to nearly fall out of his desk chair.
“What?”
Shit. He shouldn’t have screamed like that. The last thing he wanted was for anything to seem out of the ordinary. But for God’s sake, wasn’t a man entitled to have a moment of privacy in his own goddamn office?
He finished shoving the stack of cash into the safe and quickly spun the lock, waiting until he heard the combination mechanism click into place. He used his handkerchief to wipe away a stream of sweat from the side of his face.
Weight loss or no, the stress of all this was going to kill him. Not only was he struggling to keep Cherokee Pines operating in the black while tying up the sale of the business, he was hell-bent on squeezing every last dime he could from the lucrative insurance scam he’d kept going for the last five years. But that was piddly shit compared to the five-ton Godzilla in the room—Tony Ramirez. It was a twenty-four-hour job keeping the twitchy cartel chief and his goons happy.
And he’d just learned from Gene Lewis Tillman that drones were seen flying over the Possum Ridge operation.
Right about now, Miller was as nervous as a whore in church.
Soon, he told himself. If he could just keep his focus for another couple weeks he could calmly and carefully put his plan into play: Welcome to New Zealand, Mr. Milton W. Prescott, American retiree on a fixed income!
The door opened a tiny bit, revealing one nostril and a segment of an eyeball, both belonging to his secretary, Louellen Lukins. She whispered into the crack. “I am so sorry to disturb you, Mr. Miller.”
He motioned for her to come in. “Yes?”
“Well, I thought you should know that Miss Candy Carmichael over at the bakery just called. She wanted to remind you that dessert deliveries are set to start next Saturday, the day of her grand opening.”
Miller grabbed his hankie again, sopping up the sweat on his forehead. That news would be funny if it weren’t so fucking pathetic—here he was trying to lose another forty pounds and that stupid bimbo was gleefully reminding him that the pies and cakes and sticky buns were on their way!
He hated her.
“And you’re doing so well with your diet!” His secretary gave him a look of pity. “I know that cupcakes are a particular weakness of yours. I’ll