Before She Dies (Alexandria Novels 3)

She hesitated, managed a professional smile, and quickly riffled through the endless small talk topics at her disposal. Weather was safe. Cases were not, even if she was tempted to ask what had summoned him away this morning.

Sooner Tate stepped into Charlotte’s line of sight, cutting off her view of Rokov. “Hey, thanks for what you did in there. I know I was a bit of a bitch and I’m sorry.”

She glanced beyond the girl to Rokov. He tossed a questioning look her way and then turned his gaze back to his partner.

Charlotte focused on the girl and was grateful he hadn’t approached. “It’s okay.”

An awkward silence settled as they stared at each other. Sooner rubbed long fingers, sporting rings and black nail polish, over worn jeans. “I need a little help.”

“Are you in more trouble?” It was like Grady not to tell the whole story.

Annoyance flashed in Sooner’s green eyes. “Why do you say that?”

“Look where we are, Sooner. I just got you off a theft charge.”

Sooner’s jaw tightened. “I don’t need your elitist bullshit.”

Charlotte didn’t rise to the bait. In fact, she found the girl’s flare of temper amusing. “Sounds like you do need my elitist bullshit.”

“I don’t need you or anyone else. I can do what I need to alone.” Her tone had risen and a few folks around them glanced in their direction.

“Sooner,” Charlotte said in a softer tone. “What do you need?”

Sooner flexed her fingers and then with a conscious effort released the tension from her body. “I want to open a shop. A place where I can put down roots. Read fortunes. Crystals. I’m tried of traveling with the carnival.”

The ambition didn’t really surprise Charlotte. In fact, she was proud of it. “Does Grady know about this?”

“No, and I’d like to keep it that way. He can be controlling.”

Charlotte couldn’t disagree. “He doesn’t want you to leave.”

“No.”

“According to the papers, this is the last season for the carnival,” she said.

“Don’t believe it. Grady uses the last season angle to get us more press. He’s been playing that card for a couple of seasons.”

So like Grady. Always playing an angle. “And when he hits the road again next year?”

“He’ll come up with something. He always does.” She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand. “The thing is, I’m tired of the road. I want a real life.”

She’d felt the same way at that age. “And a shop is the answer.”

“I’ve got money saved. And I’m good with the cards. I get a lot of repeat customers.”

“That doesn’t mean you can make a living.”

“I’m the biggest draw at the carnival.” Sooner spoke directly with no bravado. “I can turn this into a business.”

She admired the girl’s ambition. She might be naïve, but she wanted to go places. She was Charlotte eighteen years ago. “So what do you need from me?”

“I don’t know much about leases. And I don’t want to put my name on a contract without someone reading it.”

“You want me to read the lease agreement.”

“Yes. And I’d like you to see the space.”

“Why me, Sooner?”

“You’re all I got, Auntie Charlotte.” No missing the edge. “Nobody at the carnival could help me, and if they did, they’d tell Grady. And he’d do something to screw it up.”

“Nobody gets out unmarked.” Mariah had voiced those same words often.

“You know Grady well.”

She swallowed. “I know his type.”

“If you’re my mother’s sister, he’s what, your stepfather?”

“Not anymore.” Her grip on her briefcase handle tightened. “I’ll help you with the lease. When do you want to meet at the site?”

Sooner’s eyes narrowed. Clearly her curiosity of Charlotte and Grady warred with her desire for help. Desire and ambition won. “Anytime Thursday would work. I just have to tell the guy a time.”

Charlotte fished her BlackBerry out of her briefcase and checked her calendar. “How does one work?”

“I don’t have to be at work until five.”

“One it is. Do you have the address?”

“It’s 101 Washington Street.”

“Nice area.” And right smack dab in the middle of her world. The past had arrived in Alexandria and had set up shop.

“It’s a small space in a bookstore, but it’s in a high tourist area. And traffic is king.”

“You’ve learned a few lessons from Grady.” She’d learned her own share of lessons from Grady. Most weren’t good lessons but a few were. Like it or not, the guy knew how to work the crowds, and he knew how to spin a profit out of nothing.

However, the comparison didn’t sit well with Sooner. “I’d like to think I figured out a lot for myself.”

“Don’t be offended. It’s a compliment. See you Thursday.”

“Sure. Thanks, Aunt Charlotte.”

“Please, just call me Charlotte.”

A small grin lifted full lips. “Charlotte it is. And Charlotte, I won’t horn in on what you’ve got going here. I can see that I make you uncomfortable. It’s a big enough city, so we won’t ever have to see each other.”

“I don’t have a problem with you being in town.” The first hit of shock had eased, and her mind was already crammed with more questions for Sooner.

“Sure you do. It’s written all over you. But it’s okay. It’ll be like we never met after Thursday.”

She watched the girl walk away, already knowing she’d go to the mat for the kid.

“So who was the girl?” Rokov’s deep baritone voice hovered above her.

Charlotte remembered why she and Rokov would never make it. One day she’d have to lie to him. And that day was today. “She’s a kid I represented in court. Pro bono work.”

“You’re doing a lot of that lately.” He smelled of motel soap and his own aftershave.

“Seems so.” Did she imagine that he’d sensed the lie?

“What was her offense?”

“Shoplifting.” Sooner vanished around the corner.

“She guilty?”

She arched a brow. “None of my clients are guilty, Detective Rokov. You know that.”

“That’s right. I forgot.”

“So what brings you to the courthouse?”

“There’s a shop down the street that might be able to help me with a case. I’d just parked and was passing by when I saw you.”

“And so you stopped.” Her BlackBerry buzzed, snagging her attention down at the screen. Unknown Caller. “Hey, I need to get back. I’m burning the candle at both ends today.”

He frowned. “Sure. See you soon, Charlotte.”

“Sure thing, Detective Rokov.”

“Detective Rokov?”

“It’s your name.”

“Kinda formal.”

“It’s the agreement.”

He leaned forward a fraction. “Time to renegotiate, counselor.”

Her phone buzzed again in her hand. “I really do have to go.”

“Run along.”

She walked away slowly and carefully as if she didn’t have one regret or worry. She glanced at her text. Appreciate the help. G.T.

G.T. Grady Tate. “Son of a bitch.”

What were the chances she’d seen the last of Grady Tate? Slim to none.

Rokov and Sinclair entered Tanner’s on King Street just as the owner flipped the Closed sign to Open. The owner was in his mid-sixties and had been in the custom leather business for decades. Rokov’s father had once said the man was an artist, and judging by the collection of leather jackets hanging from the wall, he didn’t doubt it.