"What information?" Grace eyed the CD. "I hired Dundee 's. I'm paying your salaries. But I get the feeling you're keeping me in the dark about something. Just what's going on?"
"Nothing's going on," Jed assured her, hating himself for lying to her. But he couldn't tell Grace about the FBI's involvement. It wasn't that he didn't trust her-he simply didn't know her. Not really. They'd met thirty-six hours ago, certainly not long enough to trust her completely. Besides, the Feds wouldn't look kindly on him sharing confidences with anyone outside the circle of Dundee agents involved in the case.
Jed clamped his hand onto Grace's slender shoulder. "Let us do our job. And that job is to find the information you need and to keep you safe."
Grace stiffened her spine, squared her shoulders and glowered at him, then glanced pointedly at his hand still clutching her. He removed his hand.
"All right," Grace said, and he could tell she was reluctant to agree. "I'll leave y'all alone and get back to the business of running Sheffield Media." Without further ado, she nodded to Kate and Dom, then marched out of the room.
"Whew…" Kate's expressive brown eyes spoke plainer than any words.
"What's going on with you and Ms. Beaumont?" Dom asked.
"I don't know what you mean, there's-"
"Cut the crap," Dom said. "There was so much tension between the two of you, I could cut it with a knife."
Jed shrugged. "I rub her the wrong way, that's all."
Dom grinned. "And you'd like for her to rub you the right way, huh?"
Kate cleared her throat.
Both men winced, then looked at her sheepishly.
"Sorry," Dom said.
"Yeah, sometimes we forget you're a woman." Jed said.
"Now, I wouldn't go that far." Dom winked at Kate.
Kate rolled her eyes upward and shook her head. "There's not ten cents worth of difference between boys and men." She sighed. "Okay, Jed, you take a look at the info we brought while Dom and I set up shop. Who do we ask about getting another desk and a couple of comfortable chairs moved in here?"
"Elsa Leone, Grace's assistant."
As if the mention of her name conjured up the lady, Elsa called from the other side of the closed door, "Mr. Tyree, please come quickly. Grace just received that phone call she's been expecting."
Instantly Dom's and Kate's gazes locked with Jed's; then Jed swung open the door and broke into a full run.
Elsa caught up with him just as he reached the door to Grace's office. She grabbed his arm and pointed to the portable phone he'd ordered she use to answer incoming calls today. He nodded understanding, then picked up the phone and placed it to his ear before entering Grace's office.
"Do you have the five million?" the disguised voice asked.
Grace glanced up when she saw Jed entering her office. He nodded. It had been arranged for them to pick the money from her bank later today, after Dom and Kate arrived. He wanted backup when they transported that kind of cash. "Yes," she replied. "I have it."
"Good. Now listen carefully. We'll make the exchange tomorrow. You'll come alone. No cops. Nobody else."
Jed came over to Grace's desk, picked up a notepad and pen and scribbled instructions. Grace read the message hurriedly.
"I've hired a bodyguard," Grace told her caller. "He comes with me tomorrow for the exchange or it's no deal."
Silence.
Grace looked up at Jed, her eyes asking him if they'd made the wrong move.
"Okay," the voice said. "You and the bodyguard. But if you try to double-cross me, you won't get the evidence you need. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I understand."
"Tomorrow morning, come to Terrebonne Park. Come in on the south side, near the carousel. At precisely twelve noon, get on the carousel, sit in the swan seat-just you. I'll join you and we'll make the exchange."
Grace looked at Jed. He nodded. "All right," she said. "Tomorrow. Twelve noon, on the carousel, the swan seat."
Chapter 9
The moment Jaron saw Booth's car pull up outside, he broke out in a cold sweat. The timing couldn't have been worse. He'd already telephoned Grace Beaumont and set up the exchange for noon tomorrow-no way to change the particulars now. Besides, he had to move as fast as possible. Time was running out. When Aric Luther, Booth's chauffeur and bodyguard, had called while they were en route to alert the household staff of Mr. Fortier's return, Jaron had taken full advantage of the advance notice. Curt had slept all morning and left directly after lunch to tend to some business in Baton Rouge. Charlie Dupree, who also lived at the house, had driven into Lafayette to visit his eighty-year-old mother, who was in a nursing home there. And Ronnie had taken Charmaine into town on yet another shopping excursion that would last for hours. With all three of Booth's flunkies out of the house, he'd been able to get into the safe where the documents he needed were kept. He'd hidden the papers in his room, in his bed, between the mattress and box springs. Tomorrow morning, he'd put the papers into his briefcase and use the excuse of making some spot checks on several of their businesses located in various nearby towns; then he'd keep his date with Ms. Beaumont. If anyone spotted him at Terrebonne Park -anyone who would report back to Booth-he'd say he'd stopped there for lunch. He'd be sure to arrive well before noon so he could pick up a sandwich and Coke at the refreshment center in the park. Cover all your bases, he told himself.
Jaron swung open the front door, rushed out onto the porch and down the steps to meet Booth as soon as Aric opened the limo door. Whenever Booth made a trip to New Orleans, he always used the black limousine. He liked playing the big man. Hell, there was no playacting to it-Booth Fortier was the big man in Louisiana.
Aric, a six-six black guy with a wrestler's body, had been in service to Booth since he'd been a kid and his mama had worked here at the house as one of the maids. Rumors abounded that Aric was Booth's illegitimate son, but there was no physical resemblance and Booth treated Aric the same way he treated his other employees.
"Welcome home." Jaron forced a wide smile as he greeted his boss. "You're back a couple of days early. I hope nothing went wrong.
"Something's gone wrong, all right." Booth's small black eyes glistened with fury. Jaron knew that look; he'd seen it on more than one occasion when Booth was out for blood. "I want a meeting with all of you as soon as possible, by no later than seven this evening. Wherever the hell everybody is, get them back here immediately."
"Yes, sir." Jaron followed behind Booth like an obedient puppy dog, while Aric popped the trunk and unloaded the luggage.
"Where's Charmaine? Didn't you tell her I was on my way home?" Booth stormed across the porch and into the house, where Nola stood waiting to take his hat and cane.
"Ronnie drove Charmaine into town to do a little shopping. They should be back any time now."
"Call her on her cell phone and tell her to get her ass back here. When I come home, I want my wife waiting for me right here." Booth emphasized the word "here" by stabbing his index finger into the air.
"I'll contact Charmaine and the others right away."
When Booth halted outside his office-cum-study, Jaron was so close on Booth's heels that he almost ran into him. Coming to a screeching halt only a few inches behind Booth, Jaron froze to the spot.
"What's the matter with you? You seem unusually jumpy. And you're sweating." Booth studied Jaron, as if sizing him up for a coffin.
Jaron shuddered inwardly, but managed to grin. "Hell, Booth, it's hot weather. That's why I'm sweating. And I guess I had too much coffee this morning. A lot of caffeine makes me jittery."
"Humph."
"Anything you want before I make those calls?" Jaron asked.
"When you've contacted the others, call Oliver Neville and tell him I'm home and for him to come on over this evening and join us."
"Yes, sir. I'll call Mr. Neville. Should I say what it's about?"
"He knows."