The Truant Officer (9 page)

Nick broke away from the kiss, looking unsure.

“Do you trust me, Nick?”

“You saved my life by getting me out of there. I trust you.”

Lilly smiled at the answer, then grabbed him by the hand and dragged him toward the danger zone.

Chapter 17

Lilly led Nick into the main lobby of the Mirage. Nick looked hesitant, but not scared—she’d yet to see fear in his eyes. She was confident that he trusted her and would follow her into battle. It remained to be seen if that was a wise choice.

The room was a tropical oasis, filled with palm trees and the sounds of waterfalls. Lilly breathed in the smell of exotic flowers as they passed over a bridge that sat beneath a ninety-foot high glass atrium. They momentarily stopped and kissed, while taking in the surroundings like a newlywed couple. Thoughts of the FBI and Russian gangsters briefly washed away into the numerous fountains.

Their next stop was the grand casino. The tropical aromas morphed into the smell of money. And Lilly loved the sound of slot machines in the morning. She felt at home.

The first time she ever played cards was with her older brothers in their tiny Phoenix apartment. They always tried to get rid of her, but being the nosy little sister, she was determined to stay. And the only way for her to stay was to be better than the boys. And soon she was.

She earned the right to tag along when her brothers made trips to Vegas. She knew they were gambling in casinos to launder their drug money, but Lilly had a protective nature, and she always believed that if she could stay near them she could keep them safe. But Nick was right about not being able to protect those you love in the end. She couldn’t protect her brothers from the bullets, anymore than she could protect Darren from her addiction.

And her return to Vegas reminded her the old adage: once an addict, always an addict. She wasn’t drawn to gambling per se—it was just a symptom—she was really attracted to the high stakes. Her life with Darren had served to cover up the problem. Now her actions were about to rip his life apart—if they hadn’t already—and she was knowingly putting Nick’s life in jeopardy.

As if in a trance, she moved to a blackjack table and entered a double deck game. Since making the decision to leave last week, she had drained a couple thousand dollars from their joint bank account. Darren wouldn’t know it was missing until they were long gone, since she handled the finances. It was the only money that she and Nick had to survive on.

The dealer was a good-looking thirty-something with a shiny shaved head. His bulky chest was busting out of his tuxedo. He read down the rules—players could double down on any two cards, when splitting aces players receive one card on each ace, and late surrender was offered. Lilly never surrendered in anything.

From the card games with her brothers, and on their Vegas trips, she had picked up the ability to effectively count cards. In fact, she had become so good that she had been banned from this very casino. So she took her act to the Gila River Casino on an Indian reservation south of Phoenix. They eventually cut their losses, and instead of banning her, offered her a job as a blackjack dealer. It was the first step toward her new life. The one that wasn’t real. She used the job to put herself through school, and toward her teaching degree. It was also where she met Darren. She thought of his devastated face on TV this morning and wished she’d never agreed to go on that date with him. She knew she’d eventually hurt him.

Lilly won the first game when the dealer “busted a stiff.” He wasn’t as good as he looked. On the next hand, she doubled down with a ten and a three and won again. The dealer then made a brief comeback, winning the next three hands.

Lilly’s card-counting abilities were rusty at first, but as the hands progressed, she regained her confidence. She didn’t use a particularly sophisticated method—typical high low—but methods were overrated. She’d found it to be a myth that you have to be some math-whiz savant like Rainman to count cards. It was all based on concentration. Casinos are strategically built to distract—constant noise, free drinks, and perhaps the stress of knowing you’d just wagered your kids’ college fund—but Lilly had been conditioned her whole life to deal with chaos, so casino conditions never fazed her.

The other key component was to make sure the casino surveillance didn’t know you were counting. This was always her downfall, hence, her banishment. But she’d become a good actor the last few years—she convinced the world that she was Lilly McLaughlin, perfect wife, when deep down she was always Liliana Rojas, danger junkie.

On the next hand, Lilly was sitting pretty on an eighteen, while the dealer had a soft seventeen. But then the lucky bastard hit a three to go to twenty. She should have surrendered and cut their losses. But she did the opposite, betting the remainder of their savings.

The dealer gave her an “it’s your funeral” look. Nick grabbed her hand and said, “That’s all we got, Lilly.” Still no hint of fear, but she had him concerned.

“Nick—you either trust me or you don’t.”

“I trust you, Lilly.”

She grabbed his tie and drew him close. Then she kissed him. She couldn’t help herself—he looked so good in that suit. But the risky bet was still not enough. She smiled devilishly. “You’re too trusting.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Would you trust me if I raised the stakes higher?”

“I don’t know how you could—that’s all the money we’ve got.”

“I’m not talking money, Nick.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“If I win, we get married today.”

He looked flabbergasted. So did the dealer, who said, “Lose all your money or get hitched? Sounds like a lose-lose proposition to me.”

Lilly turned to the dealer. “You’re our witness.”

He looked at his twenty. “I’d hold off on booking a band if I were you, sweetheart.”

The moment of truth came quick. The dealer slapped the card down. A two! She had tied the house, a miracle in itself. But Lilly wasn’t done. “Hit me again,” she instructed.

Nick looked like he wanted to get off the suicide train. “Lilly, c’mon.”

The dealer obliged. It was an ace—the only card that could win. She had hit blackjack! The winnings for hitting blackjack were three to two, so they had significantly added to their travel chest. Now it was time to collect, before the casino figured out who they were.

She looked into the camera and winked. Then she kissed Nick again for the world to see—the FBI, the Russian mob, whoever. She was so filled with the drug that she couldn’t see straight. She craved the dangerous chase they were on, and couldn’t help but to smile.

It was her wedding day.

Chapter 18

Jessi Stafford knocked on the weathered door of the apartment in Mesa. No answer. She took a baby wipe out of her purse and wiped any residue from the door off her hands and then repeated the process.

As she impatiently waited, she glanced at the peeling paint on the sun-beaten door, wondering again how Brandon could live in such a dump. But it wouldn’t be her concern for much longer. With her Darren McLaughlin interview having gone national on TV, and viral on the Internet, she was confident she wouldn’t need Brandon Longa to be feeding her stories much longer.

On the twelfth knock, Brandon finally answered. He was wearing just a towel—his abs much more impressive than his apartment—and he looked annoyed. “If you came by for a nooner, I think you’re still on New York time because it’s only ten in the morning.”

She held up two bags filled with food and smiled. “I brought you breakfast, even though you don’t deserve it.”

“Would this food be to say you’re sorry for screwing up my case, or a ploy to obtain more information?”

“You should be thanking me.”

“For trying to punch me in the balls, or stealing evidence?”

“After what you pulled in that bathroom last night, you deserve whatever you get. The credit card might have helped, but let’s be honest, I got more out of McLaughlin in my short interview than you guys did in an hour of grilling, and I didn’t need the FBI to burst in like the cavalry to bail me out.”

“Darren McLaughlin doesn’t have a clue what’s going on, so I have no idea what you think you got out of him.”

“And how would you know that?”

“I don’t know, I’m only the lead investigator in the case.”

Jessi pushed past him into the apartment. The place looked like a bomb had gone off, as it always did.

Brandon reached into the bag and removed some green frilly looking items. “What the hell is this?”

“Bean sprouts. I think it’s time for you to start eating healthier.”

He tossed the bag in the garbage. “That’s not breakfast—pancakes is breakfast. Now I gotta take a shower and meet up with Gutierrez, so make yourself at home.” He thought about what he said. “By make yourself at home, I mean don’t touch anything.”

She wouldn’t touch anything in this place if he paid her. She stood in the middle of the room, afraid to sit on any of the furniture, when she heard the shower start. Then she heard a beeping sound. It was coming from Brandon’s cell phone that sat on the kitchen counter. It was an incoming text message.

Maybe she’d make an exception to her “no touch” rule this one time.

Jessi moved to the bathroom door and listened. She could hear the water splashing off him, and his off-key singing—she had some time. She picked up the phone and read the message. It was from Gutierrez, Brandon’s partner—a reply to Brandon’s last message, which read:
Gotta go Goot ~ someone’s here~ prob JS.

On the incoming text, Gutierrez wrote:
Is she gone yet?

Jessi had a brief moral dilemma, but after last night she could have rationalized dropping a lethal dose of arsenic in his food. She typed:
JS all gone ~ free
2
talk

Been a change in plans, amigo

Change?

Coo Coo Cachoo Mrs. Robinson, she’s on the move

Jessi had no idea what he meant, but played along:
Where she headed?

LML
&
BB spotted in Vegas

What r they doing in LV?

Haha can only imagine! But LML used a credit card at mirage. I guess what happens in LV doesn’t always stay in LV

LOL. Whats our next move?

I say meet me in an hour at Sky Harbor ~ catch next flight and bring em home.

See ya there, Goot

The shower water turned off, causing Jessi to jump. But then Brandon started blow-drying the hair he loved so much, which bought her some time. She scrambled, needing to check the past conversations with Gutierrez where they discussed the case in detail, but Brandon had deleted all of his past messages.

She reached into her purse and took out a small device called the SimSpy, better known as the UR Busted Machine. A palm-size gadget that could read a phone’s SIM card.

She popped the SIM card from the back of the phone and placed it into the SimSpy. She then hooked the gadget up to Brandon’s computer, to transfer the information. She quickly found his conversation with Gutierrez and tracked back to the beginning where Gutierrez typed:
There gotta be more to it

I’m thinking same way

Y wld the feds jump on ths? Shouldn’t they b looking 4 terrorists or something?

Maybe they wanted the publicity

My gut says its something more. Esp how secretive thr being

Wht abt drugs? Kid at Chandler High last yr busted 4 running ecstasy ring ovr state lines. Drug traffiking wld outweigh r case and crossing state lines

By all accounts BB a gd kid w/ no record & diligent. May b we shld b looking more at LML

Her parents wr members of a drug cartel in Mexico. I’ve hrd abt cases whr the teacher used students 2 b the runner. The kid could b the victim

LOL ~ I wish sum1 wldve victimized me lk that in high skool

Strange that the feebies wld b interested in teacher/student sex scandal, even if she took him ovr state lines

In my day you’d get a high 5 & a raise in allowance. 2day the FBI is after u!

LOL

Shit

What is it?

Gotta go Goot ~ someone’s here ~ prob JS

Jessi couldn’t stop smiling as she placed Brandon’s SIM card back in his phone—he shouldn’t have left out his cell phone if he was going to invite a reporter in.

Just when she didn’t think this story could get better, she had hit the jackpot. Now she understood what Mrs. Robinson meant—older woman and young student from
The Graduate
. Lilly McLaughlin was having an affair with her student—Brett Buckley—and they ran off together! While abductions of attractive white women were ratings booms, and the “did he or didn’t he do it” husband angle was intriguing, viewers could not get enough of these scandalous affairs between good looking female teachers and their male students, that had practically become an epidemic over the last decade in the US. The story had all the elements of the modern day trashy novel—and it was going to be a bestseller!

The way things were trending, Jessi figured she might as well book her flight back to New York and remember to pack her “I told you so.” But first she had business in Las Vegas.

Chapter 19

Darren wandered around his empty home like a man lost. It was his first time alone since he saw the news about Lilly.

Once he rid himself of Jessi Stafford, the FBI showed up at his house. His supposed new best friend, Agent LaPoint, didn’t act too friendly, giving Darren a tongue-lashing over his television interview, which according to LaPoint: “
Might very well cost your wife her life.”