An hour or so after she’d arrived, his office door opened and a man walked out. Carly blinked, focused, blinked again. Holy crap, it was the governor!
Apparently Lincoln Cain had some very powerful friends.
She went back to work, sent some e-mails to Donna at the office. Her office manager was getting together some of the info Linc had requested so that he would make the loan she so desperately needed.
The thought didn’t sit well. She didn’t like being obligated to him in any way. She also didn’t like the idea he might wind up owning the controlling half of Drake Trucking.
Since she desperately needed the loan, she had no choice. She pulled up Drake’s accounting records for the last five years and sent them as anattachment to the address she’d been given in Tex/Am’s accounting division, then went back to work.
She tried not to dwell on the problems she faced at Drake. She tried not to think of El Jefe and the threat looming over her head, but she was less successful at that.
At half past one, Linc came out of his office. A town car was waiting to drive them the short distance to a restaurant called Piero’s not far away.
A black-haired maître d’ beamed as Linc walked in. “Mr. Cain, it’s good to see you. We have your usual table ready. Please . . . if you will follow me.” He led them to a private booth near the back, where she found white tablecloths and a nice wine list. Neither of them ordered a glass.
The food was Italian and tasted delicious, but with so much on her mind, she wasn’t really hungry. Since she didn’t feel much like talking, Linc carried most of the conversation, telling her about his meeting with the governor, then a road construction project in New Mexico one of his companies was involved in.
“It’s a big job,” he said. “Rebuilding and widening the highway north of Santa Fe. Tex/Am Construction just broke ground last week. Of course we’re doing the whole project with mules and wagons, so it may take us a little longer.”
She nodded, forced a smile. “That’s interesting.”
“You know, I actually think building a freeway with mules and wagons would be interesting—if it was possible, which it isn’t. You aren’t listening. What going on?”
She flushed. She’d been thinking about the loan she needed, but it wasn’t the most important thing on her mind.
“I keep thinking about El Jefe, trying to figure out what I’m going to do.”
“I was hoping to have this conversation later, but Ross Townsend called. A deposit was made into Miguel Hernandez’s bank account the month before he was murdered. All cash, twenty thousand dollars. Looks like he was involved with El Jefe after all.”
Carly started shaking her head. “That can’t be right. He worked for Joe for years. My grandfather trusted him completely.”
“Then how do you account for the deposit? Surely the man didn’t earn that kind of money.”
“No, but . . . How did Townsend find out?”
“I didn’t ask. Finding things out is what I pay him to do.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to Conchita. Maybe she can explain it.”
“We’ll both talk to her. In case you haven’t figured it out, we’re in this together.”
She hesitated. “All right.” But she could tell he was convinced Miguel was guilty. After her terrifying experience with El Jefe, Carly thought Miguel might have had no other choice.
Chapter Twelve
“You finished?” Linc asked as their lunch came to an end.
Seated across from him, Carly tossed her white linen napkin down on the table. “I’m done.”
This late in the afternoon, the restaurant was nearly empty, just a few waiters moving around picking up and resetting the tables for the supper crowd.
Linc stood up and pulled out her chair. “I need to get back to the office. I’ve still got a couple more hours of work before I’m finished.”
“I’ve got plenty to do,” Carly said.
“I pulled the address of the couple who found Miguel’s body out of the case files.”
“The Grangers,” she said. “I remember seeing their name.”
