"Good. Now listen carefully. We'll make the exchange tomorrow. You'll come alone. No cops. Nobody else."

Jed came over to Grace's desk, picked up a notepad and pen and scribbled instructions. Grace read the message hurriedly.

"I've hired a bodyguard," Grace told her caller. "He comes with me tomorrow for the exchange or it's no deal."

Silence.

Grace looked up at Jed, her eyes asking him if they'd made the wrong move.

"Okay," the voice said. "You and the bodyguard. But if you try to double-cross me, you won't get the evidence you need. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Tomorrow morning, come to Terrebonne Park. Come in on the south side, near the carousel. At precisely twelve noon, get on the carousel, sit in the swan seat-just you. I'll join you and we'll make the exchange."

Grace looked at Jed. He nodded. "All right," she said. "Tomorrow. Twelve noon, on the carousel, the swan seat."

«^ »

The moment Jaron saw Booth's car pull up outside, he broke out in a cold sweat. The timing couldn't have been worse. He'd already telephoned Grace Beaumont and set up the exchange for noon tomorrow-no way to change the particulars now. Besides, he had to move as fast as possible. Time was running out. When Aric Luther, Booth's chauffeur and bodyguard, had called while they were en route to alert the household staff of Mr. Fortier's return, Jaron had taken full advantage of the advance notice. Curt had slept all morning and left directly after lunch to tend to some business in Baton Rouge. Charlie Dupree, who also lived at the house, had driven into Lafayette to visit his eighty-year-old mother, who was in a nursing home there. And Ronnie had taken Charmaine into town on yet another shopping excursion that would last for hours. With all three of Booth's flunkies out of the house, he'd been able to get into the safe where the documents he needed were kept. He'd hidden the papers in his room, in his bed, between the mattress and box springs. Tomorrow morning, he'd put the papers into his briefcase and use the excuse of making some spot checks on several of their businesses located in various nearby towns; then he'd keep his date with Ms. Beaumont. If anyone spotted him at Terrebonne Park -anyone who would report back to Booth-he'd say he'd stopped there for lunch. He'd be sure to arrive well before noon so he could pick up a sandwich and Coke at the refreshment center in the park. Cover all your bases, he told himself.

Jaron swung open the front door, rushed out onto the porch and down the steps to meet Booth as soon as Aric opened the limo door. Whenever Booth made a trip to New Orleans, he always used the black limousine. He liked playing the big man. Hell, there was no playacting to it-Booth Fortier was the big man in Louisiana.

Aric, a six-six black guy with a wrestler's body, had been in service to Booth since he'd been a kid and his mama had worked here at the house as one of the maids. Rumors abounded that Aric was Booth's illegitimate son, but there was no physical resemblance and Booth treated Aric the same way he treated his other employees.

"Welcome home." Jaron forced a wide smile as he greeted his boss. "You're back a couple of days early. I hope nothing went wrong.

"Something's gone wrong, all right." Booth's small black eyes glistened with fury. Jaron knew that look; he'd seen it on more than one occasion when Booth was out for blood. "I want a meeting with all of you as soon as possible, by no later than seven this evening. Wherever the hell everybody is, get them back here immediately."

"Yes, sir." Jaron followed behind Booth like an obedient puppy dog, while Aric popped the trunk and unloaded the luggage.

"Where's Charmaine? Didn't you tell her I was on my way home?" Booth stormed across the porch and into the house, where Nola stood waiting to take his hat and cane.

"Ronnie drove Charmaine into town to do a little shopping. They should be back any time now."

"Call her on her cell phone and tell her to get her ass back here. When I come home, I want my wife waiting for me right here." Booth emphasized the word "here" by stabbing his index finger into the air.

"I'll contact Charmaine and the others right away."

When Booth halted outside his office-cum-study, Jaron was so close on Booth's heels that he almost ran into him. Coming to a screeching halt only a few inches behind Booth, Jaron froze to the spot.

"What's the matter with you? You seem unusually jumpy. And you're sweating." Booth studied Jaron, as if sizing him up for a coffin.

Jaron shuddered inwardly, but managed to grin. "Hell, Booth, it's hot weather. That's why I'm sweating. And I guess I had too much coffee this morning. A lot of caffeine makes me jittery."

"Humph."

"Anything you want before I make those calls?" Jaron asked.

"When you've contacted the others, call Oliver Neville and tell him I'm home and for him to come on over this evening and join us."

"Yes, sir. I'll call Mr. Neville. Should I say what it's about?"

"He knows."

A sick feeling hit Jaron in the pit of his stomach. If Ollie Neville was involved, that meant some sort of legal problem. And legal problems for Booth meant problems for everyone in the organization.

When Jaron headed down the hall, intending to use the phone in his room to contact the troops, Booth called, "You ever hear from Jed?"

Jed? Jed Tyree? Why would Booth be asking about his nephew after all these years? "Nah, I haven't heard anything from him. Why would you think he'd get in touch with me?"

"You two used to be big buddies. Before he decided he was too good for the likes of us. I thought maybe you knew where he was and what he was doing these days."

"No, sir. I don't have any idea."

"What about Charmaine? Has she heard from Jed?" A sour bile rose up Jaron's esophagus at the thought of what Booth would do to Charmaine if he suspected she'd had any contact with Jed. "I swear to you that Charmaine hasn't seen or heard from Jed since he left here seventeen years ago."

"I think about him sometimes, you know. I wonder what it would be like if he'd stayed. Despite our differences, that boy was my blood kin. My only sister's only child. Everything I've spent a lifetime building could have been his."

"Jed was ungrateful. You did so much for him." Jaron understood now why Jed had fled, why he'd escaped his uncle while he'd had a chance. If only he'd been that smart and taken Charmaine away before it had been too late.

"Jed wasn't strong enough." Booth's eyes got that far-away, almost glazed look that actually made him seem more human than he was. "He had some of his mama's weakness in him."

"Yes, sir, that he did."

"Get going. Make those calls. And when Charmaine comes home, tell her I want to see her alone for a few minutes. "

Jaron tried not to think about why Booth wanted to see his wife alone, even for a few minutes. He couldn't do anything to stop Booth's tyranny. Not today. Not yet. But soon. Very soon.

The moment Ronnie headed the BMW up the driveway and Charmaine saw the limo parked out front, she knew her brief afternoon of happiness was over. Booth was home. Two days early.

"I can't bear the thought of him touching you," Ronnie said. "I know how he treats you. You don't know how many times I've wanted to beat the hell out of him."

"No, you mustn't. Don't even think that way." She gazed lovingly at Ronnie-for one last time today. "I can endure anything now that I know you love me. I'll live for our stolen moments. But we have to be very careful."