“Docia’s family is rich?” Jess did a quick review of Docia’s usual get-up—jeans, dress shirt, Merrills. She didn’t look anything like Paris Hilton.
“Between the money her mother inherited and her father’s business, Docia’s family owns a large part of Texas. Docia supports herself from the bookstore, but the money’s there in the background.”
She felt as if her head was spinning. “But I don’t know her father.”
“I do, but that’s not the point. Billy and Reba aren’t around right now—they’re on vacation in Europe. Docia’s looking after Buckhorn for them, more or less. There’s a caretaker who does all the real work, but she’s in charge. She could set it up for us to go there.”
“Which would mean telling her what we’re doing.”
He nodded. “I’ll ask her to keep quiet about it. That may or may not work, but I still think Buckhorn is the best place to do this.”
Jess stared down at the pizza congealing in the box. She nudged a blob of mozzarella with her forefinger. “Lars, think about this for a minute. You’re taking a major risk here. If he wanted to, Preston could try to have you arrested. He could ruin your business.” She took a deep breath. “And Sherice could use this against you if she found out. She could say you were trying to blackmail Preston. I don’t want you to lose Daisy because of me.” She risked a glance at his taut expression.
He shook his head. “That’s not likely. And if she tried it, I’d fight like hell. But I’m still going ahead with this. Lydia Moreland shouldn’t get away with it. And you should be able to live your life the way you want to. That’s the whole point here.”
Tears pricked her eyes. “You’re a good man, Lars Toleffson. A very good man.”
“Don’t make me out to be some kind of hero.” He braced his elbows on the table, leaning toward her. “I expect to be rewarded.”
Jess edged into a smile. “With what?”
Lars shrugged. “I expect to get laid at least.”
He smiled at her, dark eyes laughing again. Her chest tightened. Sometime soon she was going to have to figure out what to do about Lars Toleffson, and the fact that she was in love with him.
Right now, however, she’d rather not.
She blew out a quick breath. “Who knows, Mr. Toleffson. Tonight you might get lucky.”
“Might?”
Jess leaned forward, sliding her fingers across his lips. “I’d say the chances are improving even as we speak.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The road up the hillside to Buckhorn was dented with potholes and ruts that Lars had to edge the Honda around. The last time he’d come up here, he’d had Daisy with him, which meant listening to her constant commentary on trees and rocks and caves in the limestone cliffs which she’d insisted were full of bears.
Today he would have been glad for the conversation. Apparently, Jess didn’t feel like talking. As they turned a final curve, Buckhorn came into view, all limestone and rough wood, with a shining silver tin roof. He hadn’t exaggerated when he’d described the place earlier—it could hold at least fifty guests along with staff. It would have made a great hotel, but it didn’t look much like a home. Blue water glinted in the sunshine at the back of the house—either the Olympic-size pool or the private lake, possibly both.
Jess’s eyes widened. “Just how rich is Docia’s family, anyway?”
One corner of Lars’s mouth edged up. “Definitely rich enough to tell the Morelands to go screw themselves if they need to. Like I said, both her parents have sizeable assets.”
“And she lives with Cal in a converted barn?”
Lars shrugged. “Docia’s Docia. She doesn’t depend on her parents for money. She’s got a decent relationship with them, but she lives on what she makes at the bookstore, along with Cal’s salary from the clinic. My guess is whatever trust funds she has will go to their kids.” Actually, he knew for a fact they would since he was Docia’s accountant.
Jess nodded toward the house. “You’re sure her folks won’t mind our being here?”
“Docia says they’re in Greece, the last time she heard. Second honeymoon. Or third. Billy’s a little footloose. Of course as soon as they hear about Docia being pregnant, my guess is the honeymoon will be cut short.” He grinned. “My guess is also that Cal and Docia won’t mention anything about the baby until after Christmas.”
He hoped Jess might smile back, but instead she stared straight ahead at the lodge, taking a deep breath.
“I imagine her parents will really be excited. Lucky kid too. Look at all the room to play. What size is this place, anyway? Forty bedrooms or so?”
Now she was babbling. Again, not a good sign. Lars sighed as he pulled up in the driveway in front of the six-car garage.
Jess took another deep breath. “Is Preston here already?”
“Not yet. Probably fifteen or twenty minutes behind us.” Of course, that assumed Preston Moreland had actually called from the San Antonio airport that morning as he’d claimed rather than from someplace like downtown Konigsburg.
“All right, then, let’s get it over with.” She turned to open the car door without looking at him.
He watched her climb out of the car as if her legs weren’t really working. She tottered for a moment, and he caught her elbow to steady her.
“Easy.” He slid an arm around her waist, stifling the impulse to pull her closer to him. “You don’t have to do this, Jess. You can wait in the pool house. Or I can take you back to town and you can stay with Jack at Docia’s place.”
Jess shook her head stiffly. “I can do it. Let’s get on with it.”
The man who opened the door looked like he could probably take Erik on in a fair fight. Judging from the shape of his nose, he already had—or somebody Erik’s size, anyway. He extended a ham-sized hand in Lars’s direction. “Mr. Toleffson? Docia said to expect you. I’m Marcus Shandey. I run the place when Mr. and Mrs. Kent aren’t around.”
Lars took the extended hand, nodding toward Jess. “This is Ms. Carroll. We’re expecting another guest, probably in ten minutes or so.”
Shandey nodded. “Docia told me about it. Come on in and get set up. The trophy room’s probably your best bet for a meeting place.” He pointed down the hall to the double doors at the end.
“Thanks.” Lars laced his fingers through Jess’s and started toward the door.
“Mr. Toleffson,” Shandey called after them.
He turned back.
“You’re not alone here.” Shandey gestured toward the window. “I’ve got two men on the grounds outside, along with me in here. You need anything, you yell, okay? That’s another thing Docia told me to do.”
Lars nodded. “Thanks.”
Shandey gave them a slightly lop-sided smile and disappeared through another door at the side.
Jess pressed her fingers to her lips. “You think there may be trouble?”
Lars slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close again. “Relax. There’s not much they can do to us here. Plus Shandey looks like somebody I wouldn’t want to cross in a fight. I don’t think your in-laws are likely to try anything, but…” He shrugged. “We’re ready if they do.”
“Right.”
The hall they walked down was bigger than his living room back in Konigsburg. Jess gazed up at the wrought iron chandelier that hung a good fifteen feet overhead.
“Quaint, unassuming little place,” Lars cracked.
Sunlight streamed through the windows that lined one side of the hall. On the other, display cases held a variety of rusty weapons that would probably command a lot more than his complete net worth. He hoped Preston Moreland would be impressed, but he doubted it.
Just then, he heard the sound of car wheels on gravel outside. His shoulders tensed.
“Show time,” he muttered, pushing open the double doors at the end of the hall.
Now that they were actually inside the trophy room, Jess wondered if it had been such a good idea to meet here after all. It wasn’t really the size of a football field—more like the average bowling alley. It made her feel a lot smaller than usual, huddled at one end of a massive leather couch that was sized for a troop of giants. Or a family of Toleffsons.
Lars paced slowly around the room, glancing up at the collection of stuffed animal heads that lined the walls. He paused beneath a warthog that reminded her of her least favorite history professor. “This place looks like an old-school natural history museum. I’m surprised Billy doesn’t have typed cards for each head.”
“Did Docia’s father actually kill all these animals?”
Lars shrugged. “Knowing Billy, probably not. My guess is the same decorator who did everything else in the house probably found these at somebody’s estate sale.”
Voices sounded from the outer hall. She stiffened. “Here we go,” she whispered.
He stepped behind her, resting his hands upon her shoulders.
Shandey opened the door for a man in a gray business suit and a woman in bright blue.
Jess caught her breath.
Lydia. He brought Lydia.
“Your guests have arrived, Mr. Toleffson.” Shandey gave them both a bland smile. “If you need anything, just give me a call.” He closed the door behind him.
Jess stared at her former mother-in-law. Lydia Moreland was smaller than she remembered—only five foot two or so. Much too small to be the source of so much anguish.
Her face was framed in a helmet of short dark hair. Everything about her seemed sharp—high cheekbones, narrow, pointed nose, piercing blue eyes. Her gaze flicked around the room, apparently dismissing Lars without a pause, until she settled on Jess.
Her expression then was like a red-tail hawk sighting a dove on a cypress branch.
Jess drew herself up and stared back.
You’re not in charge here, lady. No matter what you think. And I’m not your prey.
“Mr. Moreland?” Lars’s voice rumbled behind her. “I’m Lars Toleffson. And of course you know Ms. Carroll.”
Preston Moreland looked even more like a corporate drone than Jess remembered—conservative gray suit, clipped dark hair, the beginnings of jowls to go along with the slightly padded quality of his body. He was maybe three or four inches taller than his mother. Next to Lars he looked like the hero’s sidekick.
He glanced once at Jess, then back to Lars again. “My mother insisted on accompanying me since these…allegations concern her.”
Lydia flicked a glance at Lars, then turned back to Jess. “You can leave us now. We prefer to speak to my daughter-in-law in private.”
Lars shrugged. “I’m sure you would. That’s not going to happen, though. Not unless Jess wants it. Have a seat.”
Preston cleared his throat. “My mother is here to dispute these baseless charges and to make sure my nephew is all right. There’s really nothing else to talk about.”
Lars stared at him, his mouth edging up into a slightly sour smile. “There’s actually a lot more to talk about, Mr. Moreland. As I’m sure you’ll agree when you’ve heard the complete recordings of your mother’s dealings with Dahlia Smith. Please sit down.” He nodded toward the leather chairs.
“We have nothing to discuss. This is a complete fraud,” Lydia snapped, but she sank into one of the leather chairs opposite Jess while Preston chose a chair next to the fireplace.
Just as Lars started to settle on the couch beside her, more footsteps sounded in the hall, along with angry male voices.
Lars shook his head. The sour smile was back. “Oh god, it figures. I knew Docia couldn’t keep quiet about this.”
The door flew open and Jess caught a glimpse of Marcus Shandey’s annoyed expression behind two large Toleffson bodies.
Erik was in uniform, carrying his white Stetson at his side. His badge shone brightly against his brown leather jacket.
Pete was in a kind of uniform too—jeans and a T-shirt that read “Lawyers do it with subpoenas.” He caught Jess’s glance and grimaced. “Sorry. Didn’t have time to change.”
Lars sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Mr. Moreland, let me introduce my brothers, Erik and Peter Toleffson.”
“Police?” For the first time, Preston sounded less than bland. “You didn’t mention anything about police.”
“I’m not here in any official capacity.” Erik gave him one of his half smiles. “Although I am the arresting officer in this case, so you might say I’ve got a stake in these proceedings.”
“And you?” Preston glanced at Pete.
Pete flushed. “I may not look like it at the moment, but I’m the Assistant Kramer County Attorney. So yeah, I’ve got some interest here too. Unofficially.”
Preston’s lips firmed into a thin line. “If you’re planning to charge my mother, this discussion is over. I didn’t bring my legal team because I didn’t realize I’d need them. You lied to me, Mr. Toleffson.”
Lars drew himself up to his full height. Jess had noticed all the Toleffsons did that whenever they were pissed, including Pete and Erik at the moment. The three of them looked like a set of Stonehenge megaliths. “Nobody lied to you, Mr. Moreland, with the possible exception of your mother.”
“Your mother is not being charged with anything by my office.” Pete’s voice was glacial. “However, she has a lot to answer for unofficially. We’re here to support my brother. And Jess.”
Lydia snorted, elevating one elegant eyebrow. Across the room from her Preston cleared his throat.
“My…sister-in-law left Belle View rather hurriedly, after being interviewed by an agent from Child Welfare Services. The agency has an open file on her. We’ve been quite worried about my nephew’s safety. Can we see him now?”
He kept his gaze on Lars, avoiding Jess, his glasses flashing blank in the light.
“My son isn’t here,” she said tightly. “He’s in a safe place.”
Preston’s forehead furrowed as he glanced back at her. “Safe? Safe from what?”
“From your family and its employees.”
Lydia’s mouth narrowed to a thin line. “The child can hardly be safe with a negligent mother.”
Jess’s chest clenched. Suddenly, her throat felt too tight to answer.
“You did leave Belle View rather abruptly.” Preston sounded almost apologetic.
“I left because your family was harassing me. And because I had no intention of letting you take my son away.” At least her voice was steady, although her hands were trembling.
“
Harassing?
” Preston stared at her blankly. “How could I harass you? I only met you once—at Barrett’s funeral.”
“What happened before Jess got here may be relevant as background,” Lars cut in. “But what we’re really concerned with is what happened to her here in Konigsburg.”
“Here?” Moreland glanced around the room. “I didn’t even know there was a town called Konigsburg, Texas, until a few days ago when you called me. I’ve never had any business in Texas, nor has my mother. I believe this is her first visit to this state.” He flicked a glance in Lydia’s direction.
Erik took what looked like a cell phone out of his pocket and placed it on the table. “I don’t know what my brother has told you about these recordings, Mr. Moreland, but I think you need to hear them for yourself. They’ll make several things more clear.”
Preston turned toward his mother again, his forehead furrowing. Then he glanced back at Erik. “I would like to hear them, yes.”
“Preston!” Lydia’s voice was like a whip crack. “You will do no such thing. It’s all a trick.”
Moreland stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged. “Yes I will, Mother. I have to.”
Erik nodded. “I thought you might feel that way.”
He leaned forward and pressed a button on the mini-recorder. A moment later, an oddly distorted voice echoed from the table.
“Mrs. Moreland?”
“This is Lydia Moreland. To whom am I speaking?”
Lydia looked carved out of ice, her head held high, her hands clasped in her lap. Jess had a feeling Mary Queen of Scots had looked like that when she’d climbed the scaffold. Although on second thought, Lydia looked more like the man with the ax.
The voices droned on. After the first few minutes, Lars took her hand in his, trying to warm her ice-cold fingers.
It took very little time to hear all the conversations—less than thirty minutes. Dahlia had managed to keep things moving. After the first few minutes, Jess turned away from Lydia’s frozen disdain to watch Preston. His expression didn’t change as Lydia’s voice droned on, but the muscles in his jaw became tighter. When the recorded voices finally gave way to silence, he swallowed hard.
“Did anything…did this person harm anyone?”
Erik leaned over to switch the recorder off. “The woman your mother hired tried to break into Ms. Carroll’s house several times. Ultimately, she managed to snatch your nephew at the county fairgrounds by shocking Ms. Carroll with a Taser. Fortunately, she was apprehended before she could escape with the child.”