A Woman of Fortune (10 page)

Jana Rae broke the silence. “Uh, that doesn't look good. It's gotten even worse.”

Claire peered out the front of the car at the satellite trucks and news vans lined up at the gate. Reporters and cameramen scrambled into position as the car approached the entrance and slowed.

Henry reached for his OnStar button. “I have Mrs. Massey. We're going to need security backup at the gate.”

Nearly twenty minutes passed before the town car successfully maneuvered the mass of media and headed south toward Dallas. Thanks to darkened windows, Claire wouldn't find herself splayed on the front pages of the
Dallas Morning News
looking like she'd just eaten shards of glass.

On the seat next to her, Jana Rae fidgeted and reached for the remote. She pointed toward the television mounted in front of them. With one click, the screen brightened and a voice filled the vehicle.

“In breaking news, cattle mogul Theodore Massey was arrested late last night in downtown Dallas after a grand jury handed down an indictment alleging illegal business activity stretching across Texas and the Midwest. Unidentified sources within the US Attorney's Office report that once the investigation is completed, the case might easily be the biggest livestock fraud in the nation's history.”

Claire's stomach knotted as footage of Bernie Madoff flashed on the screen. “Turn it off,” she said.

“Claire, you need to understand what is going on. Don't you think?” Jana Rae took her lack of response as permission and clicked to another channel. Like driving by an accident you don't want to see but you look at anyway, Claire found herself riveted to the information pouring from the screen.

The reporter interviewed a man whose face was contorted with anger. “My kids' college fund is invested with Massey. All of it.”

Jana Rae scowled. “Claire, honey. This ain't looking so good,” she said.

“Tuck's innocent,” Claire protested. “All this will get sorted out.” She ignored the strange look Jana Rae shot in her direction. “It will,” she insisted.

Jana Rae clicked off the television. “Okay, if you say so. But don't think you can stick pansies in a toilet bowl and call it a garden.”

The drive into Dallas took just under an hour, with heavy traffic on I-75 testing Claire's patience. Henry exited off the Woodall Rogers Freeway into downtown and headed directly for Elm Street.

Renaissance Tower, known for its distinctive double-X lighting and majestic spheres, was a well-known Dallas landmark. The top floors served as home to Mehlhaf Jennings, PC. Unlike the recognized international firm of Baker Botts, Ranger's boutique firm focused on a select clientele. Tuck was one of their A-list clients, throwing millions in billable hours into the firm's coffers each year.

Jana Rae agreed to wait in the car. She pulled her e-reader from her purse. “I'll be praying,” she said.

Claire stepped off the elevator into the expansive fifty-six-story lobby with glass vistas overlooking the city of Dallas and marched straight to the receptionist. A stunning blonde looked up and smiled. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Massey. The team is waiting for you in the Magnolia conference room.” She clicked her fingers, and a young man left the drink cart he was pushing and hurried over to escort Claire into the meeting.

Ranger Jennings greeted her warmly just outside the door and motioned her inside the crowded room, where stacks of files and
empty mugs monogramed with the firm name littered the large granite table.

A tall man stood looking out the windows, his back to everyone. His hand rested on an empty leather conference chair.

Claire's breath caught.

She'd know that profile anywhere.

9

C
laire quickly dropped her bag on the table. “Tuck?”

Her husband turned and opened his arms. She rushed over. “I didn't expect—” She buried her face deep against his chest, taking in his familiar smell and not caring if everyone in the room stared. She'd forgotten in the brief time apart how much strength she pulled from his presence. “I didn't know you'd be here,” she said, reluctantly drawing from his embrace.

Tuck let out a nervous laugh. “Ranger arranged a temporary release.”

“Let's everyone take a seat,” Ranger said, motioning around the table. Only then did she see Garrett seated. Their eyes met and he gave her a weak smile.

After the legal team got settled in their chairs, Ranger made brief introductions, then opened a file that lay on the table before him. “As you know, we've pulled in all our markers with the folks over at the US Attorney's Office. Even then, we barely managed to construct this deal.”

Claire's head jerked up. “Deal?”

Tuck's hand covered hers, sending a silent message. She sat back in the plush black leather, tension knotting the back of her neck. “Sorry, go on.”

Ranger cleared his throat. “In exchange for Tuck's full cooperation and disclosure, and in consideration of the establishment of an immediate receivership, the authorities have agreed to a consent order in lieu of the expense of a full trial.” He paused and glanced through the contents of his file, then focused back on Tuck. “As we explained earlier, your assets will be transferred once the judge approves the plea agreement.” Ranger closed his file, his face growing more somber. “And finally, Tuck will remain on home confinement with a monitoring device pending a hearing on the consent order at the time of arraignment. I expect that to happen within thirty days, possibly sooner.”

Garrett leaned forward. “Wait, hold on. I don't understand.”

At the same time, Claire pulled her hand from Tuck's. “But Tuck didn't do any of this.”

Tuck stood. “Everyone, if y'all could excuse us for a bit, I need a few moments alone with my family.”

Nervous glances ping-ponged across the table. Ranger scooted back his chair and stood. “Of course.”

Tuck's attorney motioned to the others, and Claire watched as the gentlemen sitting around the table stood and followed him to the door. Tuck shook hands with several of the men and thanked them on their way out.

As soon as they were alone, Claire turned to her husband. “Tuck, what's going on here? This is scaring me.”

She and Garrett exchanged worried glances as Tuck moved into a chair across the table from them. He steepled his fingers and looked to the ceiling, as if the strength he needed for what he had to say might be found in the harsh halogen lighting.

“I've done something awful,” he said, his eyes glistening with moisture.

Claire swallowed against the brittle dryness in her throat. “Tuck, what is it?” she asked. “Is all this true?” Her voice sounded foreign, even to her own ears.

“Yes,” Tuck admitted.

Garrett slammed his palm on the table and stood. “I knew it! Dad, what have you done?”

Claire felt herself tremble. “Tuck, how bad is this?”

Tuck met her gaze. “The details aren't important. What you need to know is that I'm short. There aren't enough cattle.”

Garrett's face grew dark. His fingers pawed through his hair. “You sold cattle we didn't have?”

Tuck nodded and scraped his hand through his own hair. “I had no choice. When gas prices rocketed a few summers ago, high feed prices followed. Cash flows got a little tight and I floated a few things. Only for a short time,” he quickly added. He turned his gaze and stared out the window. “But things snowballed. And now the books don't reflect these shortages.”

“But Dad, how much are we talking here?”

Tuck took a deep breath and looked at his son. “I've already said way more than I should've. If this deal goes south for any reason, you may get called to testify. The less details you both know, the better.”

Garrett plopped down in his chair. His eyes filled with tears. “And the consent order, Dad? All our assets?”

Tuck's eyes held a pained stare. He rubbed his forehead. “I'm sorry. I—I'm so sorry.”

Claire felt light-headed. She couldn't breathe. Trying to gain some measure of stability, she focused on her shoes. Somehow the small act slowed her racing mind. She folded her arms and cast a wary glance toward her husband. “What are you saying, Tuck? Are you telling me you're a crook? That you took people's money on purpose?”

Garrett stood. “That's exactly what he's saying.” He slammed his chair against the table.

Tuck startled. “Son—”

“What about me? And Marcy? Did you ever stop to think about what this would do to us? To Mom?” Garrett shook his head and looked over at Claire. “I'm outta here.” He slammed out the door, leaving her to face her husband alone.

She eyed Tuck with suspicion. “I don't get it. People have been making money. Where did all those huge profits come from?”

Guilt painted a haunted look on Tuck's pale face. “Claire, baby, I'm . . . I'm sorry. I was just trying to—”

Claire held up her hand as if to steady the world that teetered all around her. “You're kidding, right?” Anger twisted and meandered across her now tense shoulders. “That's it?”

“Look, I promise everything's going to be okay. I'll make this right.”

A tight rap on the door interrupted.

“Yeah,” Tuck called out, sounding annoyed.

Ranger peeked his head into the room. “I don't mean to rush you, Tuck. But we've got a lot to go over before our meeting with the feds at two o'clock.”

Her husband gave a resigned nod. He looked over at Claire, his eyes pleading for understanding.

She lowered her head, drew a deep breath. Already she could feel everyone's eyes watching her every move as the attorneys filed back into the room and took their places, their judgment landing on her like a sheath of barbed wire.

Her heart pounded. In a matter of minutes, her entire world had tilted upside down. She didn't know how to respond, what to think. All she knew was that she had to get out of here . . . get away.

Claire stood and grabbed her bag.

Tuck reached for her arm. “Where are you going?”

She pulled away. How could she possibly face this humiliation with him? She swallowed a scream forming in her throat, feeling it collide with the ball of fear lodged in her gut. In a whirl of confusion, she stumbled for the door.

“Claire?”

“I have an appointment,” she mumbled over her shoulder, clutching her belly with a tight fist.

“An appointment?”

The question hung heavy in the air. She cocked her head and drew a tangled breath, turned, and looked back at the man she realized she barely knew. She said the only thing that entered her mind.

“A hair appointment. To get my eyebrows dyed. I—I don't think I like the color pink anymore.”

10

C
laire stepped into the harsh sunlight and waited while Henry pulled from the parking garage. She pressed her sunglasses in place, trying desperately to numb her mind to the news she'd learned.

“Mrs. Massey? Your family is being dubbed the ‘Texas Madoffs.' Care to comment?”

Her head jerked around. A young guy in a Smirnoff T-shirt hoisted a camera onto his shoulder and scrambled to catch up with her.
The creep needs a haircut
, she thought as Henry screeched to a stop.
And some manners.

Claire yanked the door open and scrambled inside, the heel of her shoe momentarily catching on the floor runner.

Jana Rae looked frantic. “What's going on? Claire?”

Claire knocked on the Plexiglas and mouthed for Henry to hurry. She wasn't about to be the target of vermin looking to cash in her dignity for a scoop.

The car careened away from the curb, sending Claire and Jana Rae sliding across the seat. Henry's voice could be heard through the speakers, sounding out of breath. “Sorry, Mrs. Massey.”

She nodded and pushed the intercom. “Henry, they'll likely try to follow. Can you lose the news trucks?”

“Sure thing,” he assured her. He gunned the engine.

Minutes later, they were safely heading west on the Tom Landry
freeway in the direction of Fort Worth. Granted, with less rubber on their tires, but they'd escaped. At least for now.

“Claire, what happened?”

Claire looked into the eyes of her trusted friend. She hesitated, trying to find the words.

As usual, she didn't need to.

Jana Rae slumped back into her seat. “Oh.”

Claire waited. This is where Jana Rae would launch some sharp missile, hoping to blast the tension into pieces. She'd be clever and funny. Even in this. Eventually Jana Rae's sense of humor would lighten the moment. Together they'd find a way to see things differently, to find some hope to hang on to.

Instead, her friend rubbed the space between her brows. “Spill,” she said.

Ignoring Ranger's advice not to talk about the situation to anyone, Claire took a deep breath and slogged through a recitation of Tuck's deluded belief he could somehow fudge the books and then make up the difference when the market turned, but then cattle shortages had snowballed, leaving a situation no one imagined their family would ever face.

“Jana Rae, say something.” Claire examined her friend's face, which had suddenly taken on a detached look. “Jana Rae, what's the matter?”

“Claire, look, I need to tell you something. And I don't want to make things worse.”

“What is it?”

Jana Rae made a rare move and averted her eyes. Her voice lowered to just above a whisper. “Last month, Tuck approached Clark with a deal too good to pass up.” She paused.

Dread crept into Claire's conscience. Inwardly she groaned, knowing what was coming.

“We put our assets—we invested with Tuck.”

“How much?” she dared.

Several seconds passed before Jana Rae finally answered.

“All of it.”