Blackmail (5 page)

Sadie shook her head, mentally chiding herself. Blackmailers were cowards who wanted something for nothing. They didn't show up at the door and knock politely. She wiped her hands and opened the front door.

Jon Garrison's wide shoulders filled the doorway. He wore a crooked grin, again causing the weak-kneed reaction. “Hello, Ms. Thompson.”

Oh, no, she couldn't react to his mere presence in such a way, especially because he had to be here for a home visit. The house was a mess—Caleb's things thrown about as she'd refused to play maid and pick up after him, Sunday's newspaper scattered across the coffee table, the coupons she'd cut lying on the end table. She swallowed. “Hello, Mr. Garrison.”

“I think we're beyond the formality. Please, call me Jon.”

She couldn't just leave him standing on the porch. Pulling open the door, she waved him inside. “Then call me Sadie.”

His gaze darted around the room. What could he be thinking? She glanced into the living room, trying to see it through his eyes. Secondhand furniture. Scuffed and scratched floors. Threadbare rugs. Cheap curtains.

Her back stiffened. Why should she care what he thought? She did the best she could. She didn't owe him any explanations.

The aroma of fried shrimp filled the air.

“Hang on. I was fixing supper when you knocked.” Sadie rushed to the kitchen, grabbed the slotted spoon and turned the shrimp in the hot grease.

“Smells good.”

She jumped and glanced over her shoulder. Jon had followed her into the kitchen. What would he think of her feeding Caleb shrimp po'boys for supper? Was that considered a good meal for a teen?

Hating that she second-guessed herself and feeling like she was constantly under scrutiny, she opened the fridge and pulled out the makings for a salad.

Jon leaned against the counter, making her nervous with his stare logging her every move. “How is Caleb adjusting to summer school?”

If only she had an answer. “Fine.” At least, that's how she chose to interpret her brother's replying grunts to her questions.

“Good. The counselor said he attended all his classes today, so that's a good start.”

Her hands froze over the iceberg lettuce. “You talked to his counselor?”

Jon nodded. “Always check up on my charges after their first day or so. It's a good indication if they actually make it to all their classes.”

“Hmm.” She popped the core from the head and set the lettuce in the colander. “I think Caleb will do just fine. He's a smart kid, yes?” From what she remembered, anyway. And she prayed he would do well.

“How're you two getting along?”

She couldn't lie—as soon as Caleb walked into the room, Jon would know their relationship was strained. “We're in an adjustment period.”

Jon laughed. “That's an interesting way to answer the question.”

His laughter did the strangest things to her—made her remember the feelings from her past. No, she was changed.
Attraction was one thing, as long as she didn't let it lead her to morally suspect behaviour. And while Jon might make her feel things she'd thought forgotten, he wasn't exactly relationship material. How could he be? He had the power of her brother's immediate future. Not a good basis for a romance. Besides, she didn't even know if he was a Christian!

Spooning the shrimp out and plopping them onto a paper towel–draped plate, she shrugged. “I didn't expect us to be best buddies right off the bat.” That wasn't exactly true. She had hoped they'd form a bond quickly. Reality just didn't work out that way.

“Good. At least you're keeping realistic expectations.” His stare burned her back. “Can I help you with anything?”

She moved the grease pan to the back burner. “No, thank you. I've got it under control.” As soon as she said the words, she realized she hadn't even offered him something to drink. Where were her manners? She turned and faced him.

The envelope lay beside his left hand. Her heart sped. “C-Can I get you a glass of iced tea?”

“I'd really prefer a glass of water, if I might impose?”

“Of course.” She pulled a glass from the cabinet and hesitated at the freezer. “Would you like ice?”

“Please.” He seemed entirely too comfortable in her kitchen. And right beside that hideous envelope.

She filled the glass with ice and water, then handed it to him. His fingers accidentally grazed against hers.

The familiar sizzle was there. She jerked her hand free and busied herself with mixing the sauce for the po'boys.

She grabbed the envelope and slipped it into a drawer. If Jon noticed anything odd, he didn't comment.

“I hear music. Guess Caleb's in his room?”

“Yes. He likes to unwind with music.”

“Apparently.”

Was that normal for a teenage boy? She opened the French bread and placed it on the cooking sheet. “Would you like to stay for supper?”

He flashed that annoyingly crooked smile. “I'd enjoy that very much.”

Great. Southern hospitality had bit her in the behind. Why'd she have to invite him to stay? His magnetism made her nervous enough with just the two of them. How tense would it be when Caleb joined them? Would her brother mention the letter? Panic choked her. She'd have to warn Caleb to keep mum about the blackmail.

She slid the bread into the oven and set the broiler on low and then set the lettuce on the drain board to chop.

“How're you doing? Handling being a single parent to a teenage boy?”

She nearly sliced her finger. Taking a deep breath, she fought to appear nonchalant. “It's an adjustment, as I said.”

“I can imagine. Used to living alone…having Caleb forced on you has to be quite a change.”

She met his gaze. “He wasn't forced on me. I agreed to be his guardian, yes?”

“Right.”

“Why are you here?” Caleb interrupted from the doorway.

The knife clattered to the counter. Sadie's nerves were tangled more than fishing line on a messed-up rod. “Caleb. Um, you remember Mr. Garrison?”

“Yeah.” He moved to the fridge and pulled out a soft drink.

“How was school today, Caleb?” Jon asked, apparently not fazed by Caleb's rudeness.

“School.”

Oh, this so wasn't going well. Sadie handed the bowl of tossed salad to her brother. “Could you put this on the table, please?”

He met her stare.

God, please let him know to keep his mouth shut about the letter.

Caleb took the bowl without a word and set it on the kitchen table. The thud echoed off the tension in the room. Nothing she could do about the basic stress she and Caleb were under, but what could Jon be thinking?

“So, do you think you'll like your classes?” Jon kept after Caleb.

“Dude, it's summer school.” He jerked one of the chairs out from the table. It scraped against the worn linoleum, sending goose bumps racing over Sadie's skin.

“Which you have to attend and pass to qualify as a senior in the upcoming school semester.” Jon moved to sit at the table across from Caleb.

Sadie pulled the bread from the oven. “He attended them today.” Why couldn't Jon just cut Caleb a little slack? This was only his third day here.

“So he did.” Jon sipped his water.

She made three plates, then carried them to the table. She had no choice but to sit between the guys. Po'boys with a side of testosterone, lucky her. She asked them to bow their heads, offered up a short prayer and then spooned salad onto her plate.

A long silence ensued. She wanted to think because they were enjoying the meal, but she knew the truth. So did Jon.

She wasn't fooling anybody. Caleb barely tolerated being in the room.

“This is really good, Sadie.” Jon wiped his mouth on the paper napkin.

“Thank you.”

“Isn't it, Caleb?” Jon pressed.

“Yes.”

Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure Jon could hear it.

In record time, Caleb inhaled his sandwich, scooted his chair back and carried his plate to the sink. He left the kitchen without another word. No “thank you,” no “I appreciate it,” nothing. Minutes later, music boomed from his room, louder than before.

Jon studied her. “Is that how he always is?”

She stood and carried her glass and plate to the sink. “I told you, we're adjusting.”

“Adjustment is no excuse for rudeness.” He set his plate in the sink beside hers. “Thank you for a delicious dinner.”

Her heart pounded a faster beat than Caleb's music. “Supper,” she all but whispered.

“Huh?”

“The last meal of the day is supper, not dinner.”

“I see.” He smiled and continued to hold her stare. “Would you like me to help you load the dishwasher?”

“No. No, thank you.” She needed him to leave. Now. So she could concentrate on the blackmail letter. Decide what she was going to do.

“Okay. I think I'll go talk to Caleb now.”

She wanted to tell him not to, to just leave her brother alone, but knew she couldn't. This was his job, why he was here. She nodded and turned to the dishes.

What would Caleb tell him out of her earshot?

Please, Lord, don't let him mention the letter.

S
adie Thompson baffled him.

Jon reviewed what Lisa had told him about her. Promiscuous and a drinker—a personality much like Aunt Torey's. It nearly sickened Jon. Recently Sadie appeared to have turned over a new leaf and seemed determined to set her life right. Yeah, right. In his experience, once a person was hooked into a pattern of a certain destructive behavior, it took a major life event to get him or her to change—like a smoker diagnosed with cancer finally kicking the habit.

What had been Sadie's defining moment? If only his heart didn't jump whenever he saw her…if only her eyes didn't twist his insides into knots. Curiosity fanned in his chest, but right now, he had a job to do, a report to fill out, a little delinquent to monitor.

He stopped outside Caleb's bedroom and knocked. No answer. Only ear-piercing music belted from inside. Jon knocked again, then pushed the door open.

The boy-man lay on his back on the bed, eyes closed but hands holding imaginary drumsticks and playing an invisible drum.

“Caleb, I need to talk to you.”

His eyes shot open. “What?”

Crossing the room, Jon flipped off the stereo. “I need to talk to you.”

“Why'd you do that?” Caleb shifted into a sitting position.

“Because we need to talk.”

“So, talk.”

Jon gritted his teeth, but leaned against the edge of the dresser in desperate need of refinishing. “I need to know how things are going with you. How you feel about school. How you're getting along with your sister.”

“School is school. I showed up, right?”

“How do you feel about it?”

Caleb snorted. “I get my therapy appointment every week, dude. You don't have to worry about how I
feel
about school. Gee, I feel all warm and fuzzy about the place. Great opportunities.” He shook his head and grunted. “Is that what you wanna hear?”

“Can the sarcasm.” Jon rested his palm on the cracked dresser. “Are you settling in okay here?”

“It's a room and groceries.”

Jon gave a quick glance around the space. “Seems like more than that. Stereo, television, computer…looks like you've got quite a setup here.” Very costly. How was Sadie affording all this? Her financial report didn't reflect a debt ratio that would allow such expenses.

“It's okay, man. Better than juvie.”

That had to be the truth. Jon nodded toward the computer. “Not doing any illegal downloads, are you?”

“Do you think I'm stupid, dude?”

No, but Jon couldn't take any chances. “You know I have the right to check your system at any time, right? To make sure you aren't in violation of your terms of release.”

Caleb waved a hand toward the PC. “Knock yourself out.”

If the kid did any pirating, he probably hid it well. Jon wasn't that adept at computers. He decided to try another angle. “How about living with your sister? How are you two getting along?”

Caleb shrugged. “She's here.”

“That's it? She takes you in, feeds you, provides all this for you and all you can say is
she's here?
” With the money spent on
the electronics around the room, Sadie could've bought a new living room set, which she clearly needed. It was obvious she was trying and Caleb was resisting.

“What do you want me to say? She's doing all this because she has to. Probably getting a kickback from the state so they don't have to take me in.”

Jon straightened and advanced on the kid. He bent until he was eye to eye with Caleb. “Listen to me and listen good. You think you know everything? Let me tell you something, you don't know a thing. If it wasn't for your sister, you'd be in the system and no telling what could happen to you. She didn't
have
to take you in, but she did. And she gets no compensation for being your guardian.” He straightened. “Got that?”

“Yeah.” But the teen's eyes blinked with fear Jon hadn't seen in a long time.

“And you'd better take your classes very seriously. You're on notice,
dude.
One slipup, and you're back in juvie so fast it'll make your head swim. Got that?”

“Yeah.”

Jon stared at Caleb, wondering what could be going on in that thick head of his. It was apparent the boy had already made his choice to continue on his trek down the wrong path in life. Shame, because the kid was smart, maybe too smart. And having Sadie as a guardian…well, the chances of Caleb being able to get his life back in line were slim to none. Nothing more for Jon to do but keep tabs on him until his probation was over, then he'd have to release him. And Caleb would most likely end up in prison within a year, if he even made it off probation without incident. “I'll expect you in my office for your appointment later this week.”

“Whatever.”

Jon paused at the door. He had to give it one more try. “You know, Caleb, you'd better get your act together. I can have you sent back today.”

“Threatening me?”

“Promising.”

Jon shut the door behind him. The music blasted immediately. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then released it slowly. The kid wouldn't listen.

Caleb Frost was a lost cause, even if it weren't for Sadie's unsteady influence.

He shouldn't care how she felt, what happened to her, how Caleb's attitude had to hurt her. No, he shouldn't care even one iota about Sadie Thompson's emotions.

But he did.

 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Sadie glanced up from her list of suspects to meet her brother's inquiring look. She'd finished cleaning the kitchen, seen Jon out and had changed into shorts and a T-shirt. Now she sat curled up in the recliner in the living room, reading the names until she thought she'd go blind. She smiled. “Sure.” Her heart leaped. Would Caleb finally accept the olive branch she'd offered?

He sat on the arm of the couch, his long legs spread out in front of him. “I'm sorry if I've seemed rude to you.”

Tears burned the backs of her eyes. “It's okay. We're adjusting.”

“No, I've been really rude to you and you don't deserve that.”

“Okay.” She chewed the inside of her lip, not sure what else to offer. She didn't want to close the door on the conversation, but didn't know how to proceed, either.

“I thought you'd taken me in because you had to.” He lifted his gaze from the floor, meeting her eyes.

“No, I wa—” Well, she hadn't exactly
wanted
to take him in. “I couldn't let you become a ward of the state.” She let out a sigh. “After Mom died, I had to live in a foster home for a couple of months. It was awful.” She shuddered, blinking to ban the memories. “You're my brother, Caleb, even though we really don't know each other very well.”

“Well, thanks. I
do
appreciate it.” He shoved to his feet. “And I don't know anything about that letter you got, but I'll find out what's going on.”

She stood, as well. “No, Caleb. Let me handle it.” She gestured to the paper on the chair. “I'm working through possible suspects. I'll figure out who has the biggest beef against Vermilion Oil.”

Caleb snorted. “What're you gonna do then? Take the name to the police?” His hands fisted at his sides. “I won't go back to juvie and that's just what they'll do first thing.”

Sadie took a step back. The force of her brother's words stung, as well as the logic behind them. “I won't go to the police. But, Caleb, I have to do something.”

“I told you, I'll find out what's going on.”

“No, it's dangerous and you should stay out of it.” Maybe it hadn't been such a wise decision to show him the stupid letter.

He scowled. “I'll be eighteen in a few months. I think I can handle this. They're using me to blackmail you.” He headed for the foyer. “I'll be back in a couple of hours. I need to think.” He opened the door.

“Caleb, wait!”

“Don't worry. I'll be back by ten.” The door clicked shut behind him.

He shouldn't be out alone, but it wasn't as if he was under house arrest. She couldn't treat him like a child, but he
was
her responsibility. Sadie paced the worn rug in the living room, visions of multiple horrors streaming through her head. What if the blackmailers were watching them? What if they followed Caleb, hurt him? Should she go after him?

Lord, how do I take care of him, keep him safe? I don't want him to think I consider him a child, but someone threatened him.

Sadie marched into the kitchen, searching for her purse. She couldn't let Caleb go out alone. Not like this. Not knowing who the blackmailers were or what they wanted.

Brrringgg! Brrringgg! Brrringgg!

She jumped at the sound, then grabbed the cordless phone from the counter. “Hello?”

“Sadie, another facility's been sabotaged. And this time, it's bad. Barrels of oil and saltwater have gone into the bayou.” Deacon's voice trembled with emotion. “I need you at the office now.”

Oh, no! The situation couldn't be any worse. She should've gone over that list of laid-off workers closer. What was she supposed to do now? Work or Caleb? Both were her responsibilities, but she couldn't be in two places at once. “I ca—”

“Sadie, I really need you here. The Coast Guard's been called in and the press is already at the front door.”

Lord, what do I do?

She didn't have a choice—she had a job to do and right now, that had to take precedence. If she failed, she could lose her job and then how would she support Caleb? “I'm on my way.”

She hung up the phone and raced to her bedroom. She traded the shorts for a pair of slacks, the T-shirt for a blouse and slipped on a pair of flats. After pulling her hair into a loose bun, Sadie scrawled out a quick note to Caleb to let him know what had happened.

Maybe she'd pass him on her way out.

She whispered a prayer for God to watch over her brother as she turned the key in the ignition.

The evening air had only cooled a few degrees. Sadie flipped on the air-conditioning in her old car and steered toward Vermilion Oil. Her mind sorted through what Deacon had told her while she used her cell to call her assistant. If it was as bad as Deacon said, they'd need all hands on deck for damage control.

“Hello?”

“It's me. I need you at the office pronto.”

“Another facility?”

“Yep, and according to Deacon, this one's leaked into the bayou.”

“Oh, rats.”

“Right. I'm on my way now.”

“Meet you there.”

Sadie tossed her cell back into her purse, but her mind wouldn't stop tripping over questions. Who could be sabotaging the facilities? And why? Was it really one of the men who'd been laid off? She'd have to get through her suspect list faster. She hadn't been able to speak to the investigator Deacon had hired, and she still had twenty-one names to muddle through.

She didn't pass her brother on the short drive to the office, which bore even more questions to harass Sadie—Where was Caleb? Was he safe?

She parked in the back lot to avoid the press Deacon had warned her about. She couldn't make a statement until she had the most up-to-date information. Sadie slammed the car door and bounded up the back stairs of the office. A group of locals marched around the back parking lot, signs with Get Out of Our Bayou sparkling under the security lights. Could they be so desperate to have the rigs removed from their hunting and fishing grounds that they'd sabotage the facilities? Sadie ignored their shouts as she unlocked the door and slipped inside.

A rush of cool air splayed against her face as she entered the building. Her footsteps echoed off the walls. She'd barely made it down the hallway before voices reached her.

“Sadie, thank goodness you're here. Deacon's a mess.” Candy-Jo, Deacon's wife, stood wobbly in the breakroom, holding two cups of coffee.

“Where is he?”

“In the conference area. Sheriff Theriot's here, as well as a guy from the Department of Environmental Quality. The representative from the state's Department of Natural Resources is on his way. Deacon's fit to be tied.”

Great. The alphabet-soupers. Sadie quickened her steps as she marched to the conference room. She sucked in a deep breath,
fighting to appear calm and collected. She steadied herself and rounded the corner. “Good evening. Sorry I'm a little late.”

Relief flooded Deacon's face before he turned to the men. “Sheriff Theriot, I believe you know Ms. Thompson.” He nodded at the suit sitting at the conference table. “Mr. Morris, this is my public relations manager, Sadie Thompson.”