“He chased after her and grabbed her, but he said she hit her head on a tree branch, knocked herself out and wouldn’t wake up. Then he heard some men in the woods, and he got spooked. He took off and one of them chased him all the way to the street. He was smart though, and stole Sharon’s car to get away.”
“How is that smart, Corinne? The cops are going to be looking it and for Jonathan.”
She emphatically shook her head, leaning close to the glass and spoke in an almost whisper into the phone. “He ditched the car in a shopping center. And he swears the guy chasing him didn’t get close enough for a good look at his face. Cousin Phil drove down and picked him up and drove him back home.”
“What about Sharon?”
Corinne bit her lip, and didn’t meet his gaze. “We don’t know what happened to her. I—I called a couple of hospitals, but there’s no record of Sharon Berkley or Serena Snowden, the name she uses in Texas.”
His thoughts were a blur, racing one after the next. If she’d died, he’d have heard from one of his contacts. Which meant she was still alive, at least for the moment. He needed her alive a little while longer. Long enough to gain access to the money in the Cayman Islands’ account. He needed that money. The DOJ had frozen every one of his assets, hundreds of millions of dollars, and without the infusion of funds from the offshore bank, all his contacts, his hackers, would dry up and evaporate, because nobody did anything out of the goodness of their hearts. People weren’t kind and generous and giving souls. They were black-hearted, greedy, avaricious, money-hungry sharks who’d sell you out to the next highest bidder who came along.
“Corinne, you said the FBI came to see you. What exactly did they want?”
“They wanted to shake Jonathan’s alibi, wanted me to tell them he hadn’t been home when the accident happened. The FBI agent was hot, and he flirted outrageously with me, but I didn’t tell him anything.”
“Good.” He stood, and the guard took a step toward him. “Tell Jonathan I want to see him. We have a few things to discuss about my upcoming appeal.” He contemplated her carefully, knowing as much as he wanted to toss her to the wolves, he’d need her when he got out, at least in the beginning. After—well, who knew what might happen.
Dropping the phone into its cradle, he shuffled out the door and headed back to his cell, the guard following close behind. He could last a little longer. Because he was going to come out on top this time, and then they’d pay. They’d all pay.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Serena settled into the rocking chair in the living room with a sigh of contentment. Doc Stevens released her from the clinic, and Douglas showed up within minutes of the paperwork being signed, ready to deliver her back to the ranch. The FBI agent Williamson had assigned to guard her stood by, watching every movement of the clinic’s staff, and she’d heard him ask Douglas for identification before he’d been allowed into her room. The agent followed them to the ranch, and was now ensconced in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and some baked goods. Ms. Patti never let anybody in her house go hungry.
It felt good to be back at the ranch. The minute they’d driven through the large gate leading to the Boudreau property, she’d felt her world shift on its axis and everything felt right again. Driving up the long stretch of road, past the pastures filled with animals a sense of peace swept through her, and her soul felt like she was coming home.
She’d spotted Dane headed out of the barn as the car pulled up in front of the Big House. He’d smiled and waved before climbing onto his saddled horse. Liam followed close behind, and he dipped his head before riding out. Talking to Ms. Patti in the past, she knew the ranch raised cattle, and leased land to the government for horses. They also hired several ranch hands year-round, keeping the whole operation running.
Serena felt guilty about rushing off and leaving Ridge behind, and planned on apologizing profusely when she saw him again. She glanced up when she heard a noise, and smiled as Ms. Patti walked in, carrying a loaded tray, placing it on the footrest in front of her chair. A pitcher of tea and ice-filled glasses and a plate of cookies. Looking closely, she shook her head and laughed softly, because the cookies were oatmeal raisin. Her favorite. She honestly didn’t know how Ms. Patti managed to do everything she did: run a business, handle a whole crew of ranch hands, deal with a daughter in college, and even though all her sons were grown didn’t mean she didn’t still run them with an iron fist couched in a velvet glove. All that, in addition to being the town’s matriarch. She knew everything going on in Shiloh Springs—everything. Nothing happened in her town she didn’t know about as soon as it happened. There were whispers a lot of the town folk thought she was psychic.
“With everything going on, I forgot to ask. Did somebody help out Mr. Olson?”
Ms. Patti chuckled and slid onto the love seat across from Serena’s rocker. “Believe it or not, in all the confusion, Douglas was the one who remembered poor Mr. Olson. He’s fine, by the way. He waited around for you, and when you didn’t show, he went alone and viewed the property. After all his hemming and hawing for years, he decided he didn’t want to buy the place after all.”
“You’re kidding? He’s been after that place ever since I moved to Shiloh Springs.”
“Sometimes we build things up in our minds, make them bigger and better than they actually are.” Ms. Patti picked up a glass and poured the
