wait until tomorrow and go into town herself. “Not right now,” she said, “but thanks for asking.” Her last words were spoken to his back as he ambled off toward the stables.
Grace watched him slide back one of the doors and disappear inside. Right then, her cell phone rang in her pocket. She took it out, looked at the LCD screen and smiled. She hit the green button and put the phone to her ear as she walked back into the house. “Hello, Mom,” she said, excitement returning in a rush. “You won’t believe what’s here.”
* * *
J ACK WAS UP late that night, his mind going over and over his unplanned meeting with Grace Evans. He had a feeling he’d only get one good chance to get her to agree to sell, and he didn’t want to blow it. But he needed information, and he hadn’t gotten the call with it yet.
He glanced at his bedside clock. Midnight. He reached for his cell phone and lay back in the big poster bed. After punching in a number, he stared up at the shadowy ceiling as he listened to the rings. On the fourth one, the Chief of Police answered. Jack knew John had the night shift, but he thought he’d be out driving around or sleeping in the back room. “Hey, John, it’s Jack.”
“Hey, bro, what can I do for you?”
“Did you get the information I asked for about Grace Evans?”
“I actually just got through running it. We had another demonstration out by the site of the new casino and I didn’t get back until a half hour ago. People are just crazy when they get in a group like that.”
Gage’s construction contract to build an entertainment center halfway between the main highway and town still had people upset, although they were gradually coming around. “What did you find out?” he asked, sitting up and moving to push back against the headboard.
“I’ve got it right here.” Jack heard rustling. “Okay, here goes. Grace Anne Michaels Evans is twenty-six, no college although she applied to an art school in the area, but didn’t finish the enrollment process. She got married to a Jerald Evans, had a daughter, Lilly Joy, six months after the marriage dissolved. Jerald Evans is now in Maine, remarried and some sort of big rig operator. Grace works at a diner in L.A., not a good place, and seems to have taken a temporary leave while she comes out here.
“She lives in a small rental apartment with her mother, Gabriella Michaels, and her daughter, and two weeks ago, her bank account went up to almost fifty thousand dollars thanks to one deposit. Most of it is still there.
“Never been arrested, has just a couple of traffic tickets, and, oh, I forgot, she was born in L.A., and seems to have stuck pretty close to that area most of her life.” He exhaled. “A real city girl, it looks like. Not one you’d think would be coming out here to set up camp.”
Fifty thousand dollars. Another gift from her father? A born and bred SoCal girl, and she was going to live out here.
“Hey, you still there?” John asked.
“Yeah, just thinking about what you said, about the city girl thing.” A germ of an idea was forming. “Why would she want the hard work of ranch life? No malls, no drive-thru on every corner.”
“Maybe she thinks it’ll be good for the child?”
“Yes, that could be what she’s thinking about.”
“So, what are you going to do now Michaels is out of the picture?”
“I figure Grace Evans might need a guide to show her around the land, so she can see how large it is, how much work and money it would take to keep it up, and maybe, if she’s offered enough to go back to L.A., she just might accept and leave.”
He heard John’s low chuckle over the line. “I’m thinking that your thinking might be spot on.”
“It’s all I’ve got right now,” he admitted.
“Okay, count me in if I can help.”
“Thanks,” he said and hung up.
He looked around the shadowy loft, thinking again how convenient it was to live above his law offices, then got up and
Grace watched him slide back one of the doors and disappear inside. Right then, her cell phone rang in her pocket. She took it out, looked at the LCD screen and smiled. She hit the green button and put the phone to her ear as she walked back into the house. “Hello, Mom,” she said, excitement returning in a rush. “You won’t believe what’s here.”
* * *
J ACK WAS UP late that night, his mind going over and over his unplanned meeting with Grace Evans. He had a feeling he’d only get one good chance to get her to agree to sell, and he didn’t want to blow it. But he needed information, and he hadn’t gotten the call with it yet.
He glanced at his bedside clock. Midnight. He reached for his cell phone and lay back in the big poster bed. After punching in a number, he stared up at the shadowy ceiling as he listened to the rings. On the fourth one, the Chief of Police answered. Jack knew John had the night shift, but he thought he’d be out driving around or sleeping in the back room. “Hey, John, it’s Jack.”
“Hey, bro, what can I do for you?”
“Did you get the information I asked for about Grace Evans?”
“I actually just got through running it. We had another demonstration out by the site of the new casino and I didn’t get back until a half hour ago. People are just crazy when they get in a group like that.”
Gage’s construction contract to build an entertainment center halfway between the main highway and town still had people upset, although they were gradually coming around. “What did you find out?” he asked, sitting up and moving to push back against the headboard.
“I’ve got it right here.” Jack heard rustling. “Okay, here goes. Grace Anne Michaels Evans is twenty-six, no college although she applied to an art school in the area, but didn’t finish the enrollment process. She got married to a Jerald Evans, had a daughter, Lilly Joy, six months after the marriage dissolved. Jerald Evans is now in Maine, remarried and some sort of big rig operator. Grace works at a diner in L.A., not a good place, and seems to have taken a temporary leave while she comes out here.
“She lives in a small rental apartment with her mother, Gabriella Michaels, and her daughter, and two weeks ago, her bank account went up to almost fifty thousand dollars thanks to one deposit. Most of it is still there.
“Never been arrested, has just a couple of traffic tickets, and, oh, I forgot, she was born in L.A., and seems to have stuck pretty close to that area most of her life.” He exhaled. “A real city girl, it looks like. Not one you’d think would be coming out here to set up camp.”
Fifty thousand dollars. Another gift from her father? A born and bred SoCal girl, and she was going to live out here.
“Hey, you still there?” John asked.
“Yeah, just thinking about what you said, about the city girl thing.” A germ of an idea was forming. “Why would she want the hard work of ranch life? No malls, no drive-thru on every corner.”
“Maybe she thinks it’ll be good for the child?”
“Yes, that could be what she’s thinking about.”
“So, what are you going to do now Michaels is out of the picture?”
“I figure Grace Evans might need a guide to show her around the land, so she can see how large it is, how much work and money it would take to keep it up, and maybe, if she’s offered enough to go back to L.A., she just might accept and leave.”
He heard John’s low chuckle over the line. “I’m thinking that your thinking might be spot on.”
“It’s all I’ve got right now,” he admitted.
“Okay, count me in if I can help.”
“Thanks,” he said and hung up.
He looked around the shadowy loft, thinking again how convenient it was to live above his law offices, then got up and
Similar Books
