* * *
Carly turned the corner and pulled up to the curb in the white F-150 pickup she was driving.DRAKE TRUCKINGgleamed in dark blue letters on the doors, along with the logo of a stylized male duck in flight—a drake.
“Thanks for the ride.” Britt cracked open her door.
“Thanks for going with me.”
“Miguel was a really nice guy. I can’t believe someone killed him.”
Sadness rolled over her. Such a senseless murder. Why hadn’t Miguel cooperated with the hijackers? A piece of equipment, no matter how valuable, wasn’t worth his life. Or maybe he’d given them what they wanted and they had murdered him anyway. Maybe they were just cold-blooded killers.
“I’m calling Sheriff Howler as soon as I get back to the office,” Carly said. “I need to see if he’s made any progress on the case.”
“I hope they catch whoever did it.”
Carly hoped they sent the bastards straight to hell, but she didn’t say that. “So do I.”
“You want to come in, have a glass of iced tea or something?” Brittany asked.
“I need to get back. I’ve got a ton of work to do.” Including writingpaychecks. Not easy when you had to juggle accounts, borrow from Peter to pay Paul, try to keep all of the balls in the air so none of the checks would bounce.
“Okay, I’ll call you later.” Britt slammed the pickup door, turned and headed up the sidewalk to the front door of the small gray brick house she rented. It had a white picket fence, white shuttered windows, and a perfectly tended lawn. Flower beds overflowed with yellow and purple pansies.
Britt was a homebody, always had been. As a substitute teacher at Iron Springs Elementary, her dream was to marry and have a family. So far that hadn’t happened.
After a five-year engagement, Britt had come home early to find her fiancé—what was the legal term?—in flagrante delicto with the voluptuous neighbor who lived down the block.
Britt had been devastated, but Carly hadn’t been all that surprised. Being a flight attendant, she had met and dated men from all over the world. In her experience, guys were fun for a while, but as soon as you fell in love with one, he was gone, looking for another conquest.
Britt might seem as if she’d weathered the heartbreak, but inside she was still hurting. Carly wasn’t sure how long it would take her tender heart to mend.
It wasn’t going to happen to her—not again. She’d been engaged two times. Both had ended in disaster when the man she thought loved her had found someone to replace her.
For the last several months, she’d been taking a break from men. She’d had enough disappointment to last a lifetime. She wasn’t ready to jump into the dating world again.
One look at Brittany told her she had made the right decision. Add to that, the fact she had inherited her grandfather’s trucking firm, a fleet of fifteen Peterbilt tractor trucks and an assortment of trailers. With a company that grossed in the millions each year and employed twenty-eight people, she didn’t have time to date.
Thinking of the afternoon ahead and the pile of work she faced,Carly pulled the pickup onto Highway 67 and headed back to Drake Trucking.
* * *
Returning to his office in Dallas, Linc loosened his tie as he stepped out of the elevator on the executive floor of Tex/Am’s corporate headquarters building, a six-story, mirrored glass structure on the North Central Expressway.
The receptionist, Leslie Bingham, sat behind a sleek teakwood desk that matched the low wooden tables in the contemporary seating area. The smooth, rust-grained wood posed a warm contrast to the nubby texture of the oatmeal fabric on the sofa and chairs.
Linc walked past the desk, heading for his private office.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Cain.”
He smiled absently, his mind still back in Iron Springs. “Afternoon, Les.”
She smiled in return, a perky, freckle-faced redhead in her late twenties with a pleasant disposition and plenty of ambition, just what he liked in an employee.
There were only two offices on the top floor of the building, his and that of his partner, Beau Reese. Each of them had a personal assistant who worked in a private area behind the receptionist desk. Staff worked in cubicles nearby, serving both him and Beau.
Linc waved at Mildred Whitelaw, a brunette in her early forties who was one of his most valuable employees, the lady who had kept him organized and on track since he and Beau had first started building the company.
He pulled open the door leading into his private office and walked inside, his gaze going to the wall of windows that wrapped around the room and looked over the busy Dallas streets.
