Page 45 of Lie for a Million

Meanwhile, he would start with a call to the court. The right person should be able to give him Judd’s last name and the date of his arrest. If Crystal’s paramour had been behind bars when Frank died, he’d have a perfect alibi. But that didn’t mean he was innocent of scheming against the Culhanes.

Keying in the number of the court clerk, Sam made the call. After several rings without an answer, a voice mail recording came on. The clerk wouldn’t be available until tomorrow. He would have to try again in the morning.

* * *

Jasmine’s fingers shook as she entered Sam’s cell number on her burner phone. She was about to complete the call when she realized she’d misdialed a digit. She deleted the number and tried again. But her grip was unsteady. The phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the kitchen floor.

Trembling, Jasmine retrieved the phone. What had she been thinking? She’d been told not to call Sam. Not even after what had happened tonight. The consequences of even one phone call could get him suspended or killed.

Her memory relived the events of the past hour. That evening, her mother and Louis had eaten a sunset dinner of coq au vin and champagne on the condo balcony before going to a music concert in downtown Austin. Madeleine had complained of a blinding headache that morning and spent the afternoon sleeping in her room. The nap had done wonders. For a terminally ill woman, she was radiant—laughing, tossing her abundant auburn hair, and flashing the diamond earrings Louis had given her for her recent birthday.

After the meal, they had left in Louis’s vintage black Lincoln Town Car, with his driver at the wheel. The driver was undoubtedly armed, the car chassis and windows reinforced against attack. Still Jasmine couldn’t help worrying about her mother—not only because of Louis Divino’s dangerous lifestyle but because of his character.

True, Louis seemed to care for her. He treated her like a queen. But he was a cold-blooded killer who dealt in drugs, weapons, human trafficking, and murder for hire. And under his influence, perhaps, Madeleine had thrown all caution to the wind. She had stopped seeing doctors, stopped any medical treatment. It was as if she wanted to go out in a blaze of self-destruction. And there was nothing Jasmine could do to change her mother’s mind.

Jasmine had stood on the balcony and watched the big black car drive away. She could tell from the way Madeleine had clung to Louis’s arm that she’d be coming home late. It was almost as if the two of them had reversed roles, with Jasmine as the mother and Madeleine as the reckless daughter.

The urge to call Sam was an ache inside her. She missed the gentle wisdom in his voice and his way of reading her emotions even when she was silent. She could tell him anything, even her concerns about her mother. But with his career on the line, she knew better than to try. Until her father’s killer was arrested, even calling on the burner would be a risk. And the last thing she wanted to do was put him up against Louis Divino.

The maid had left after preparing dinner. Jasmine didn’t mind cleaning up and running the dishwasher. Maybe after that, she could find a good movie to stream on TV.

She’d almost finished clearing the outdoor table when she noticed Louis’s brown leather jacket hanging on the back of his chair. He must’ve taken it off before dinner, then forgotten it when he left with Madeleine for the concert.

A breeze had sprung up from the west, raising whitecaps on Lake Travis. Sooty clouds billowed above the horizon. The coming storm would probably bring nothing but wind and dust, but she could hardly leave an expensive jacket out in the weather.

Balancing a pair of wineglasses in one hand, she draped the jacket over her arm with her free hand and carried it inside. As she laid it over the back of the sofa, where it could be easily seen, something slipped out of a pocket and dropped behind a seat cushion.

After placing the glasses on a side table, Jasmine reached behind the cushion. Her fingers closed around something hard—a cell phone.

She pulled it out. The phone was an older style, well used and fully charged. Jasmine knew she should put it back where it had come from, but she couldn’t keep her imagination from running wild. What if the phone was the modern version of a crime boss’s black book, with lists of contacts, payments, debts owed, and more—evidence that, in the right hands, could crush Louis Divino’s organization and put him behind bars? If she could take it to the police, or to the FBI . . .

There was no time for that. Maybe she could get into the account and see what was there. But what was she thinking? Louis was a dangerous man. If she tampered with his phone, he would know.

Jasmine remembered the conversation she’d overheard earlier, mentioning FBI Agent Nick Bellingham. She could try to get in touch with Bellingham—but no, that same conversation had revealed that Madeleine was involved in her lover’s drug and money-laundering activities and that Frank had learned about them—which would have gotten him murdered if someone else hadn’t killed him first. Calling in the FBI would get her mother arrested. She would spend the rest of her days behind bars, however brief that time might be.

Jasmine stared down at the phone, imagining the evil that innocent-looking device could contain.Put it back, she told herself.Put it back now!

She picked up the coat from the back of the sofa. There were four pockets—one on each side, an outside breast pocket on the left, and an inside breast pocket on the right. Which pocket had contained the phone? A chill of dread prickled the skin on the back of Jasmine’s neck. If she replaced the device in the wrong pocket, Louis would know she’d handled it.

If he were to ask, she could tell him the truth, that the phone had fallen out of his jacket. But would he believe her? Louis hadn’t survived this long by trusting people.

A drop of perspiration trickled down her temple as she decided to take a chance on the inside breast pocket. She was about to slip the phone into it when the device rang, loud and piercing in the silence of the room.

In the same moment, she heard the front door open. She froze as heavy footsteps approached down the hallway and Louis stepped into the living room.

The phone had stopped ringing, but Jasmine was still holding it. At the sight of her, his face turned livid.

“What the hell are you doing with my phone?” He snatched it from her hand.

“It fell out of your jacket. I was putting it back.” Jasmine tried to keep her voice level, but she was genuinely afraid.

He didn’t contradict her, but his expression made it clear what he thought of her reply.

She held out his jacket. “I didn’t want to leave this outside,” she said. “Believe me, I wasn’t snooping.”

“Sure you weren’t.” His voice dripped sarcasm as he took the jacket. “Just mind your own business, girl,” he said. “Do that and we’ll get along fine.”

Without another word, he stalked down the hall toward the door. As he opened it, his phone rang again. He answered it, slamming the door behind him as he left.

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