Underground
from Chapter One
Temptation came in many forms, but
never one this sweet.
Fifty thousand dollars. Twenty-five thousand now, twenty-five thousand
after she finished the job.
Lacy
But this job...this was much
different than those jobs.
Lacy’s hands remained folded
in her lap as her eyes shifted from the envelope on the table toward the stranger. The man had refused to reveal his identity, not
even an alias to call him by. Forced to name
him based on his appearance, his wide forehead, exceptionally small jaw and prominent chin
made it easy for Lacy to come up with a nickname. He
looked like a T-bone steak.
Lacy’s taste buds uttered
silent, guttural moans at the thought of a 14-ounce medium rare steak smothered with
sautéed onions sitting next to a loaded baked potato minus the sour cream. For a moment, she forgot the money.
Only for a moment.
“I have a hard time not
knowing who I’d be working for,” Lacy said.
After a moment of silence, she quickly added, “If I accepted your
offer, that is.”
T-bone’s expression remained
blank. Lacy wished he would give something
away behind those stale brown eyes, but T-bone had the perfect poker face. That’s probably why he had been chosen to
approach her, Lacy deduced. The man who talked
to her could not give away too much in his motions, in his voice. “We were led to believe that it wouldn’t
be a problem for you,” the man said with a monotone voice that suited his anonymous
aura.
The conversation ceased as their
waitress topped off Lacy’s coffee. Lacy
frowned as she reached for more sugar. Someone
had done their homework and learned that her Super Classic Plus checking account at the
First Bank of
Fifty thousand dollars. That could pay off her car. And it could buy a very juicy steak. Oh hell, a few juicy steaks. When was the last time she ate steak? Forget the steak, when was the last time she exited
her car without the fear of never seeing it again?
Food and cars and all other
worldly goods quickly escaped her mind. The
money could free up her time. Fifty thousand
dollars would allow her to spend less time following around cheating spouses as a low-rent
and morally-confused private investigator and start investigating the case that plagued
her day after day: the murder of Michael
Kahle. After spending four years in prison for
that crime, Lacy wanted nothing more than exoneration.
To be able to show the world that she was framed. To breathe the air of innocence once again.
Despite her desperate monetary
condition and the thought of possibly making headway on Michael’s murder, Lacy
hesitated. Committing one crime to prove
herself not guilty of another was not the typical way to go about it. “I don’t know about this,” Lacy
whispered so a passing waitress or customer could not hear her. “Kidnapping across state lines is a federal
offense.”
“Once again,” he
replied, “given your history, we were led to believe it wouldn’t be a problem
for you.”
Of course, she thought as she
casually took a sip of her steaming coffee. Her
history was not something she would easily escape, and this situation certainly was no
different. But the mention of her history by
this stranger tore her soul into pieces, and Lacy was all too familiar with the feeling of
vultures swarming in and feasting.
T-bone leaned into her, not more
than a couple inches, but the gesture made Lacy realize she was still dealing with a
person. “My employer can help you.”
Lacy’s emotions must have
seeped out of her and contorted her face for him to say such a thing, for him to give her
an ounce of hope when it had been years since she had even thought the word. The man in front of her had just packaged up hope
with a pretty little bow of fifty thousand dollars. She
tried to keep the desperation out her hoarse voice. “What
do you mean, help me?”
“With the case you’re
trying to solve.” He leaned back in the
booth and nodded matter-of-factly. “Michael
Kahle’s murder.”
Lacy didn’t blink. To do so might wipe away any indifference left in
her eyes. “How can your employer help me?”
T-bone gave a slight shrug and
returned his posture to upright and stiff. “You
do my employer a favor—”
“The proverbial favor,”
Lacy interrupted.
“My employer knows people. Knows their secrets.”
Red flags waved in the front of
Lacy’s mind. If T-bone’s employer
really was as supreme as T-bone suggested, why use her to kidnap someone? Lacy posed the question aloud.
“You’re available. You need the money.
We need someone like you. Someone
who won’t screw it up.”
The answers were vague, she knew,
but Lacy found herself buying into them all. To
exonerate herself from Michael’s murder, to finally bring his real killer to justice,
the job seemed to be worth every ounce of risk.
“There’s a lot more
reason for you to take this job than the money,” T-bone said, confirming Lacy’s
thoughts.
Lacy nodded. This job was the answer to so much, but there was
one thing holding her back. “If I get
caught, I’ll go back to prison.”
“If you don’t do it, you
go back to prison.”
Lacy caught her breath and looked
up at him.
“Did you know it’s
illegal in the State of
Lacy’s eyes darted away from
T-bone, toward the sound of crashing dishes in the kitchen.
The distraction saved her, as she wasn’t sure how much longer she could
hold up her poker face. If she were turned in
for her illegal license and using a firearm, it would certainly mean more prison time. Especially given her history.
Lacy looked at the bulge in the
center of the envelope. All thoughts of
rejecting the offer disappeared. There was no
use listening to her saintly side when there was fifty thousand dollars and the threat of
more time in prison involved. And if T-bone’s
employer could bring her even one step closer to finding the person responsible for
Michael’s death, then what other choice did she have?
“I’ll do it,” she said. She
slid the envelope across the table in her direction and placed it on the seat beside her,
making her participation official.
© 2006