Jay said, “Did you know that Maryland is one of seven states that do not require lottery winners to be named publicly? No appearances holding that giant check. No interviews. Hush-hush, if that’s the way the winner wants it.”
“Sounds like real secret squirrel stuff.”
“Mm-hmm. You would know.”
“Why do you think so?”
“You had twenty-three million reasons to keep it out of the papers. I imagine you thought you had twenty-three million reasons to keep it from me, being that I am your husband.”
“Ex.”
“Maybe.”
“Stop it, Jay. There is no maybe. Even if what you say is true, you are not entitled to anything from me. Your financial troubles are your own.”
He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “That’s twenty-three million after taxes. I know. I checked.”
“Doesn’t’ matter.”
“You still don’t have a head for money matters. At your age, you should have taken your winnings as an annuity, not a lump sum.”
Ramsey sat back, balled up her napkin and tossed it on the table. “We’re done here. If you really did your homework, you’d know I make fourteen dollars and twenty-six cents an hour. I don’t have a sou, a peso, a farthing, or a cent to spare, and even if I did, you’re not a charity I want to sponsor. Sell your suits, your car, take a mortgage out on your house, put your Italian shoes on eBay, get a second job. Settle your debts on your own, Jay, and while you’re doing that go back to Gamblers Anonymous.”
Ramsey picked up her coat and slid out of the booth. Ignoring Jay’s request that she return to the table, she picked up her check, and began walking away. When she reached the cashier counter and confirmed that everything had been fine, she paid for her meal with cash and left a tip to be given to the waitress. When she stepped back and turned to go, she saw Jay was approaching from the side. She paused at the exit to make sure he paid for his meal, not because she changed her mind about bailing him out, but because she didn’t want to be a party to him stiffing the restaurant or their waitress.
She heard him say something about forgetting his wallet, and when she turned, she saw him making a show of patting down his coat and then the inside of his jacket. Given the size of Jay’s balls, it was surprising there was room for anyone else in the restaurant. Ramsey retraced her steps to the counter, gave the cashier a ten—her last—and pretended not to see or hear Jay’s feigned embarrassment at his oversight. She also did not acknowledge his thanks.
He followed her out to the car, apparently with the intention of holding up his end of the conversation. Ramsey was of an entirely different mind. She opened the driver’s side door and slid in. He stood at the passenger door, but it didn’t open automatically when the driver’s door opened. She often found it an annoying feature to take the extra step to unlock the other doors when she had a passenger, but at the moment, she was grateful for the safety feature. She knew a moment’s childish delight bearing witness to Jay’s annoyance.
Ramsey put the SUV into reverse and backed out of the parking space. Jay rapped on the window until he was forced to stand away when she started for the exit. She resisted the urge to look at him in her rearview mirror so she didn’t know if he was hurrying toward his car or standing in the lot taking stock of what was left of his dignity as he decided what to do next.
She hoped he decided on Baltimore.
30
Ramsey drove aimlesslyfor several miles, purposely avoiding the highway, making use of the residential neighborhoods and corner stop signs to keep her speed in check while she palm slapped the wheel and talked herself out of doing something incredibly ill-conceived where Jay’s health was concerned. Shooting him was out of the question, but running him down? That idea had merit, and she knew better than to reverse gear and back up over him. If she did that, even a semi-competent prosecuting attorney would be able to prove intent. No, whatever she did had to look accidental.
“Do you hear yourself, Ramsey? A half-hour in his company and you’re a lunatic. Jesus.” She let the car idle at a four-way stop and rested her forearms on the wheel. When that wasn’t quite enough, she leaned forward and rested her head against her forearms. She stayed that way until another motorist rolled up behind her and beeped. She had no idea if she’d been sitting there five seconds or five minutes. Raising a hand apologetically, Ramsey signaled a right turn and moved on.
She was well over an hour late when she pulled into the employee lot at the Ridge, but at least by then she knew who bore the larger share of responsibility for what was happening and it wasn’t Jay Carpenter.
Hindsight gave her clarity that she did not have at the time she was making decisions. She didn’t realize it then, of course. She’d believed she was being clear-headed and setting a thoughtful course for herself. Changing her social security number hadn’t been an option. She wasn’t in witness protection, for crying out loud. Employee background checks? She thought it was enough to stay away from the career she’d planned and studied for. She carefully designed her departure and gave no information to her family. None. Unless Jay told them something, they still didn’t know where she was. She hadn’t had many friends, not the kind that would worry about her when they lost touch. Her attorney knew everything, and she imagined Jay had pressed him for information, but that would have been a dead end.
It had always hovered somewhere in the back of her mind that Jay might make good on his promise to find her. The passage of time had not made her careless, but she had begun to feel more confident that she had been successful. Foolish, foolish girl.
Ramsey shook her head, cleared her thoughts of everything to do with Jay Carpenter and prepared to face Paul. There was no chance that he wouldn’t have something to say about her late appearance. That was all right, though. Paul couldn’t know it yet, but she was already contemplating her retaliatory strike. She had absolutely no plans to catch a single shoplifter today. Not one.
Sullivan eyed Buddy’s sad sack expression when his colleague reported for a shift after the chief sent Butz home on account of illness. He waited until Buddy flopped heavily into the chair behind his desk before he turned around and gave him a better than cursory glance. Sullivan shook his head. “You could’ve said no.”
Buddy used his fingertips to pick at his dark halo of springy curls. “I need the overtime pay. I got my eye on a new truck and a gym membership.”
“Who’s the girl?”
“Sophia.”
“Sophia who?”
Buddy shrugged. “Dunno. Her nameplate just says Sophia.”
