He drove north and east, away from Kelham, toward some of the richest dirt in the area, Carter’s Crossing Reservation. Not because the land was fertile for crops. Not at all. The soil was too barren to nourish weeds.
The Eastern Band of Native Americans had occupied the nine acres of land east of Carter’s Crossing since 1980. Before that, the land belonged to the US government. Seventeen members of Randy Cloud’s family moved onto the blighted reservation at the request of the tribe to oversee the building of Big River Casino.
After the casino opened, the reservation quickly became the economic powerhouse of Carter’s Crossing and the surrounding area. About a hundred members of the tribe lived out there now. The casino provided good jobs for the community. The tribe supported local schools and public works projects, too.
Randy Cloud was justly pleased with the casino and its place in Carter’s Crossing. So was his sister, Nina. They’d built a thriving community from a piece of dry dirt that had never amounted to anything before.
Even Mayor Deveraux had to give them credit, while she turned a blind eye to the unsavory activities casinos invariably attracted.
He saw Big River Casino in the distance. The roomy parking lot was half empty. Two dozen vehicles of various types were scattered around, along with half a dozen buses. It was Wednesday. A workday for most folks around here.
Which was fine. He didn’t need a huge audience. Just a handful of witnesses who could be counted on to remember him would be sufficient.
On weekends, the casino had a valet stand, which would have been helpful. But not today. He pulled into the lot and parked near the main entrance. He left the pistol and the silencer in the glove box, climbed out of the truck into the still dreary rain, and hustled inside.
As soon as the door opened, he was hit by a wall of stale tobacco smoke thick enough to stop a charging buffalo. The slot machines laid out in rows near the front were beeping and clanging and playing a cacophony of animated tunes.
There were more patrons inside than he’d expected. He’d forgotten that today was Senior Day.
Every Wednesday, senior citizens were invited to gamble, given a free twenty dollars to do it with, and offered a free lunch. Management hoped they’d spend a lot more, of course. It was a business strategy employed by casinos around the country for a simple reason. It worked.
He avoided an elderly couple with matching red walkers heading toward the Wheel of Fortune slots. He dodged another pair of white-haired gents arguing over a triple diamond nickel slot machine. After weaving through a knot of old ladies atwitter about their knitting, he steered toward the blackjack tables and waited for an opening.
After a few minutes, a distinguished-looking older woman with a full head of coifed white hair folded her cards and left. He walked over and sat down in her seat. The other players looked him up and down and then returned their attention to their cards.
He slid ten fifties across to the dealer, hoping everyone at the table would notice and remember later. The dealer took the cash and gave him piles of chips in return. Then, the dealer nodded toward him and opened a new deck of cards.
Half an hour later, at the end of a game, a woman put her arm around his shoulders, leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek. He glanced up to see Nina Cloud standing behind him.
He blinked a couple of times to control his shock. What the hell was she doing here?
“Nice hand,” she said, loud enough for his tablemates to hear, and proving she wasn’t a ghost. Dammit.
He cleared his throat to steady his voice. “Thanks.”
One at a time, the other players folded their cards, allowing him to win the pot. The stack of chips in front of him had grown to a satisfactory level. Winners attracted more attention than losers. Not that it mattered now. Nina was still alive. No chance he’d need an alibi for her murder this afternoon.
The guy on his right had lost enough. He cashed in his remaining chips and left.
Nina perched on the guy’s seat and leaned in to flash a sexy smile. “Looks like you’re doing well today.”
“So far.” He frowned. “I thought you were headed to Memphis? Didn’t you have to pick something up before six o’clock?”
“I was. But my plans changed.” She slid her hand under the table and squeezed his thigh.
The dealer broke open another deck of cards and dealt another hand.
“How come?” he asked, ignoring her hand traveling up his thigh, his mind only half occupied with the game.
He clenched his jaw to control his annoyance. She should have been on her way to Memphis. She was meant to die before she reached Memphis.
Which hadn’t happened.
Which was bad enough. But she’d screwed up his schedule, too.
He frowned, working out an alternative timeline to get everything back on track.
Casually, Nina used a cocktail napkin to wipe the sweat from his brow as she explained. “I sent a friend to do it for me. Carolyn Blackhawk needed to borrow my car, anyway. She doesn’t have one since she almost never drives anywhere. You know, she’s got those cataracts, so she doesn’t see well. But she had to visit her sister, who’s really sick. Might not make it through the night. Carolyn was really upset, but she said she was okay to drive. She’ll pick the stuff up for me and go on to her sister’s house. She promised she’d get there in time. I gave her my cell phone, too.”
He shrugged as she blathered on. He glanced at the clock. She’d been scheduled to die ten minutes from now. He couldn’t simply schedule her death again tomorrow.
His plan had been perfect. Two birds, one stone, and all that. Perfect.
Brian Jasper had been game to try the stunt because he thought he could survive. He’d seen some video online. A speeding motorcycle collided head-on with a speeding car and lived to tell about it.
Jasper was dimwitted. He was also despondent and a daredevil and more than a little reckless.
Of course, the video had been a fluke, if not a downright fake. Jasper couldn’t possibly survive a head-on collision traveling sixty miles an hour.
No one else would be dumb enough to repeat the attempt.
Which meant now he had to come up with another way to kill Nina.
And he had to do it soon.
The dealer placed the cards. Bets were made. He watched the clock tick over to 4:30 p.m. and imagined he could see the scene on US 72 unfold exactly as he’d planned it.
Nina patted his thigh and removed her hand. “I’ve got a few things to take care of in the office. Come find me when you’re finished here. We’ll have dinner.”
“Sounds good.” He nodded. Probably better to stick around a while and stay visible while the accident scene played out.
Sooner or later, someone would figure out that Nina Cloud should have been driving that sedan.
His anger mounted. He’d wanted to slip away and disappear. But Nina would never let that happen. She said she was in love with him. She imagined he loved her back. She wouldn’t simply let him go and forget about him.
Besides, she knew about the counterfeit operation. Hell, without her, he’d never have passed all the bills. She was the one who covered his ass.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Wednesday, May 11
Outside Carter’s Crossing, Mississippi
4:30 p.m.