While she tapped her foot on the driveway, she narrowed her gaze and gave him a warning glare. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."
Jed laughed. "Sorry, but it's your own fault for looking so damn good first thing in the morning."
Grace crossed her arms over her chest and cocked one hip higher than the other. "You don't know when to give up, do you?"
Jed shrugged. "Look, Blondie, I apologize. I promise I'll behave myself from now on." He held up two fingers in a salute. "Boy Scouts honor."
"You were never a boy scout. A juvenile delinquent, maybe, but not a boy scout." She looked away from him and began walking back up the driveway.
He fell into step beside her. She'd been right on the money when she'd said he'd never been a boy scout; and she hadn't been far wrong when she'd suggested he'd been a delinquent. He'd been a damn rowdy teenager, and had known that any trouble he got into, his uncle Booth would get him out of at a snap of his fingers. There had been a time when he'd looked up to his uncle, had even admired him. But that had been before he'd found out exactly how ruthless Booth Fortier really was. If he hadn't learned about Booth's part in Lance Tyree's death, he might now be his uncle's right-hand man, in training to take over as head of the crime syndicate. The very thought that he might have chosen to follow his uncle's path in life sickened him.
"By the way," Grace said, "do you call all the blond women you know Blondie?"
She didn't look at him or slow her pace, so he followed her lead and kept walking and looking straight ahead. "Funny you should ask. I'm not sure why the term popped into my head. I've never called anyone else Blondie. Why, what difference does it make?"
Grace picked up speed, getting several feet ahead of him. "It doesn't make any difference. I was just curious. But I'm not sure I like your referring to me with a pet name. It seems a bit too familiar."
She'd slapped him down again. Put him in his place. He'd have to keep in mind that calling her Blondie annoyed her. And maybe it bothered her because she liked the familiarity more than she'd ever admit.
Jed caught up with her. "We should discuss the five million you're picking up from your banker today. I want my two Dundee associates with us when you transport that much cash from the bank to your house. "
"Fine. You work out the particulars with your people. Mr. Dotson will call me at work as soon as he has the money ready for us."
"I hope you're right about Dotson being a hundred percent trustworthy. If he's not, then we might have a problem."
"He's the president of St. Camille Savings and Loan," Grace said as she slowed her pace a bit. "Daddy always trusted him, so I see no reason why I shouldn't."
"Five million is enough money to make the most trustworthy person consider becoming untrustworthy for the first time in his or her life."
"Isn't there anyone you trust implicitly or do you automatically distrust everyone?"
"I trust people who have earned my trust," he told her. "I learned at a rather young age how devious and conniving people can be."
Just as Grace started to reply, the cell phone he'd stuffed into his shorts pocket rang. When he stopped to answer the phone, Grace continued without him. "Wait up, will you?" he called to her.
She stopped about fifteen feet from him, glanced over her shoulder and frowned. But then she nodded, moved off the drive and braced her back against the nearest tree.
Jed hit the On button. "Tyree here."
"Jed, it's Rafe. You were right about the warehouse where Troy Leone is working. It's owned by Garland Industries. And it's a sure bet that there are drugs going in and out of there on a regular basis, covered up with a legal wholesale business. Supposedly Garland Industries imports all kinds of goodies from South America."
"Yeah, I was afraid the Leone kid had gotten himself involved with the wrong people."
"One more thing…" Rafe hesitated.
"What?"
"I spoke to Sawyer before I called you and it seems when I had Dundee 's do some online checking for me, Sawyer got in touch with Dante Moran."
Jed glanced at Grace and lowered his voice. "Don't tell me-the Feds already know about Garland Industries and are simply waiting for the right moment to pounce."
"Hell, man, you're good. Ever thought of taking up fortune-telling?"
"The Feds don't want to make a move on the warehouses now, not until I help them trap Fortier. They don't want the small fish without the big fish. Right?"
Grace glared at him, then shoved herself away from the tree and came toward him. "I'm heading back to the house for a shower."
He held up his index finger, indicating for her to wait. "Anything else?" Jed asked Rafe.
"The guy overseeing things at the warehouse is Curt Poarch. Ever heard of him?"
"Curt Poarch, huh? Yeah, he was working for Fortier before I left Louisiana. If he's like he used to be-and my guess is that he is-he'd do anything my uncle asked him to do. And I mean anything."
"Moran told Sawyer that Poarch is Fortier's number two man."
"Let me guess-Jaron Vaden is number one. Right?"
"Right."
"Anything else I need to know?" Jed asked.
"That's about it, for now. Except Dom and Kate should arrive before noon today. They'll be in touch."
"Thanks. Later, okay?"
Jed hit the Off button and shoved the small phone into his pocket, then met Grace in the middle of the driveway.
"Troy Leone is working at a Garland Industries warehouse," Jed said. "Garland Industries is a front for a major portion of Booth Fortier's illegal activities."
Grace clenched her teeth together and shook her head. "Damn. This is just the kind of news Elsa doesn't need."
"What she needs is to get her brother out of there… and soon."
"Yes, of course, she should, but-" Grace eyed him quizzically. "What do you know that you aren't telling me?"
"When Fortier goes down, his fall is going to cause some mighty big ripples that will reach far and wide."
"What do I tell Elsa?"
"Tell her what she already knows," Jed said. "Tell her that if Troy continues working at the warehouse, it's only a matter of time before he'll wind up in prison."
Grace nodded, then without another comment, they fell into place side by side and returned to their morning walk, heading for the antebellum mansion Grace had called home her entire life.
"Jed?"
"Mmm-hmm?"
"How long do you think it will be before Booth Fortier finds out that I'm having the accident looked into and that Dundee's is digging into any connection he might have with Governor Miller?"
"A few days, a week at most. Sooner if what I suspect is true."
"What do you suspect?"
"I've been looking at what happened the night of the accident from several different angles and there's something I can't figure out."
"What's that?" she asked.
"How did Booth's hit man know in advance that your family-you, your father and your husband-would be in a car together that night? And how did he know the particular route you'd take?"
"I don't know." Pausing when they reached the front veranda, Grace slumped down on the steps. "I'd never thought about it, of course, because I'd always believed the accident really was just that-an accident. But I suppose he could have been tailing Dean and just waiting for the right opportunity."
"Possibly, but if his orders were to eliminate your entire family all at the same time-Dean, your father and you-then he might have had to wait for weeks. That's not Fortier's style. He gives a couple of warnings, then if they go unheeded, he strikes."
"Well, actually, I wasn't supposed to go with Dean and Daddy that evening. I'd been in bed with the flu and was just barely on the mend, but that afternoon I'd started feeling a lot better, so I decided to join them. I'd never missed any of the St. Camille Annual Charity Auctions, not since I was sixteen, and I desperately wanted to go."
"Did anyone know about the change in your plans, that you were going?"
Grace shook her head. "No, I don't think so. No. Only Laverna and Nolan. I didn't even take the time to phone Joy and tell her."