Forever Driven: Forever Bluegrass #4 (3 page)

“Then let me make a contribution to their education.” Matt tossed the bag to Jared who unzipped it and dumped the cash on the table before heading over to the shelves. He pulled out a pale pink container from the second shelf from the top. The initials MLB were embroidered on it in script. Meth, one pound. That was Matt’s guess.

Matt watched as Jared took out a pink plastic bag of crystal meth, walked it over to a worktable, and pulled out a scale. Matt joined him and looked down at the scale reading 16.03 ounces. “Are we good?”

Matt smiled. “We sure are. I like the pink.”

Jared set the scale back. “My wife again. She loves to color-coordinate.”

“I look forward to trying it out this weekend and doing business with you in the future.” Matt put the drugs in the bag he’d brought the cash in and zipped it up.

“Just let Eddie know when you need a hookup and we’ll schedule an appointment. I’m the only one authorized to handle bulk orders. Eddie can handle the rest.”

Jared held out his hand and Matt shook it. Eddie led him out of the garage and back into the car. Eddie talked basketball and girls until they made it back to the motel. Matt entered the room to find Crystal still passed out and Tate leaning against the open adjoining door.

“Since we didn’t hear gunfire, I assume it went well.”

Matt tossed him the bag and when Tate opened it, he let out a low whistle and showed it to Forgy. “His wife color-coordinates the drug packaging to the embroidered fancy baskets they’re stored in,” Matt told them.

Forgy looked up quickly. “The wife is part of the operation?”

“At least the decorator. It could be more.”

“Okay. Let’s hold off on the bust. We need to keep your cover anyway. We need to see what the higher-ups say about his wife. What’s your feel on the situation?”

“I think they’re partners. He referenced her more than any other dealer I’ve taken down,” Matt told them.

“I’ll get a background on her and see if anything pops out,” Tate said as he moved to his computer. “In the meantime, stick tight.”

Matt groaned. “Damn. This means I actually have to work on the highway now.”

“Yup,” Forgy grinned. “You know they will be checking you out. Good thing we have your cover all set up. You report to work at six in the morning.”

Matt looked at his watch. “You mean in two and a half hours.”

“Have fun at your first day of work, honey,” Tate taunted as he pushed Matt out of their room and closed the adjoining door.

F
our months later
. . .

R
iley took
a deep breath and walked into the large beaux-arts-style Capitol. Designed with French influence, the granite and marble building was stunning. Every time she came to work at the Capitol, she promised that would be the day she saved Keeneston. She had been sworn in two months ago after the New Year and had made it known immediately that she was going to fight this highway with everything she had. Kentucky’s legislative session would be over in another month, and she felt the pressure weighing her down with each passing day.

Today her vote was required in the House chambers on a dog-fighting bill, and then she was going to lock herself in her office and continue following the paper trail she had slowly been uncovering. If her instincts were right, this road issue went a lot deeper than she had first thought. It had started when the governor had proposed the new highway in her road budget plan. While she didn’t say where she had gotten the idea, and considering the new governor was from Bowling Green, which was nowhere near Frankfort nor Lexington, it didn’t take a genius to know someone lobbied her for the highway. Riley was just having trouble finding out who was really behind the push for the highway.

The governor wasn’t talking, and Riley was sure this highway was either part of a political trade or possibly a bribe from a donor. Riley had combed the donor records. While many of the major donors were in road construction, none stood out from the pack. This left her thinking it was a political favor. Even so, it was risky. The House Appropriations Committee got the budget first and right now everyone and their third cousins were making amendments to it—Riley included. She was lobbying committee members to make an amendment to strike down the new highway.

Then the budget would go to the Senate Transportation Committee where, again, everyone and their sister’s hairdresser’s third grade teacher’s brother would change it so the money went to their counties, to their roads, and to their constituents who needed highway jobs. Riley was also preparing for what came after. There would be three very different budgets. The governor’s, the House’s, and the Senate’s. It would come down to the House and Senate being locked in a room, hashing out deals to come to one final copy of a budget that the governor would sign. And Riley was determined that final budget wouldn’t provide funding for the new highway designed to destroy Keeneston.

Riley slipped in the side door and shook off the cold winter breeze. Spring was near but winter wasn’t giving up the fight easily. “Morning, DeAndre,” Riley smiled to the guard who alternated between the Capitol building and the annex where her office was. With her long hours in Frankfort, she had gotten to know most of the guards as well as the other Capitol staff.

“Morning, Riley. Watch out, it’s going to be a doozy today.”

Riley groaned. DeAndre Drews knew everything that went on around the Capitol. He was like John Wolfe back in Keeneston, except he was twenty-three instead of ninety-something, six-foot instead of a shrinking five-nine, handsome with rippled muscles and smooth black skin instead of John’s potbellied and sagging translucent skin that came when you passed ninety years.

“What have you heard?” Riley asked in a whisper as she looked around to see if anyone was listening. The Capitol had ears that would make Keeneston’s grapevine look nonexistent.

“I heard that Wilkerson submitted his estimate for the proposed highway to go through Keeneston. There’s a secret meeting during the vote today to talk about the highway.”

Riley cursed and DeAndre chuckled. Earl Wilkerson was the state-contracted engineer who estimated the price of a job and secretly submitted it to the committee. No one knew Earl’s estimate—it was sealed. And the contractors would submit sealed bids as well. When the project passed and the budget committee set their price, the bids were all opened at once and compared to Earl’s estimate. Lowest bid would win.

“Another House meeting?”

DeAndre nodded. “I’ve heard that only some members of the House committee even know about it, and this particular meeting includes not only your mentor, but also the Speaker of the House, the Senate Majority Leader, Gregory Peel, and a handful of reps and senators.”

“Son of a . . . Senator Peel,” Riley smiled as the man in question walked through the door. Senator Peel was from Eastern Kentucky. He was the head of the Senate Transportation Committee and would be very influential in whether the highway went through or not. “How are things in Lumpur?” In Kentucky, the town name was pronounced
lump-her
. Many Kentucky towns had unique pronunciations for their town names. The senator was what you expected for a politician—middle-aged white guy with an overinflated ego. Since he had a reputation for sleeping with every hot secretary, intern, and aide he could, he was called the senator from Humpher behind his back.

Senator Peel eyed her questioningly. The last time they were together, Riley almost jumped across the table and strangled him. Instead, she’s just said, “Bless your heart” before politely stating the reasons he was wrong.

“Going well. How is your crusade to stop progress?”

Instead of resorting to violence, Riley pasted on a fake smile. “By progress you mean destroying a historic town? I saw the updated design. It calls for not only the last two buildings on Main Street being destroyed, but all the way to the bank so that a large retaining wall can be built blocking the highway from the town. That includes a law office, a world-famous fashion house, an antique store, and, well,
half of a town
.”

Peel nodded his graying hair. “I saw that. It makes sense. Since your town is so against the project now, they won’t have to see it. The retaining wall also enhances your town by cutting down on noise pollution from the highway.”

“You think this is funny?” Riley asked with steel in her voice as Peel chuckled. “I guess it was a good thing I got the votes to ban cockfighting and am attaching it to the dog-fighting bill this morning. Reminds me . . . Lumpur is the ’capital‘ of animal fighting, isn’t it?”

Peel’s face reddened as he stepped into Riley’s space in an act of intimidation. Too bad for him it didn’t work. “You mess with my town, and I’ll make sure there’s nothing left of Keeneston, little lady.”

“You haven’t even begun to see how I intend to mess with you, old man. And you certainly won’t enjoy it like you do with your secretary.”

A snarl formed on Peel’s lips as he hissed out in anger. “You don’t stay in office for twenty-five years without knowing how to play the game. You’re way out of your league. You’ve been warned. Step back and let the big dogs handle things. Vote how you’re told or bad things will happen, little lady.”

Riley let him push past her although she made sure her elbow jammed him in his soft midsection on the way by. “Oh, Senator!” Riley called out sweetly to his back. “Give your wife my best.”

“Damn, girl.” DeAndre swore. “Have you thought about having a security detail? After today, you have an even bigger target on your back.”

“I came here to do what’s right, not play games. If they don’t like it, fine. I’m a big girl and I can definitely handle myself. Thanks for the heads-up on today’s meeting. I’ll talk to Angela and see what I can find out.”

“Only for you,” DeAndre called out.

It could be true, but Riley didn’t know how many people DeAndre kept in the loop. They had hit it off on the day she was sworn in. A random meeting in the annex cafeteria turned into friendship, and now they saw each other almost every day. She didn’t ask how he knew what he knew, and he didn’t ask how she knew as much as she did about boxing. DeAndre was an amateur boxer in his private time.

Riley passed under the large rotunda painted in ivory, blues, and pinks and climbed the gray and white marble staircase to the third floor. She headed for the House chambers at one end of the building, opposite from the Senate. When the House and Senate let out at the same time, they look across the multiple marble staircases at each other.

The large doors were open, and Riley stepped onto the blue carpet. The room had a massive windowed ceiling that allowed light in. The walls were salmon-colored marble and the Speaker of the House sat front and center, facing all the reps’ desks.

Riley found her mentor talking with a group of women and headed toward them. Angela Cobb was the head of the House Appropriations Committee and the head of the CWKY—Congressional Women of Kentucky Group. CWKY was a nonpartisan mentor group that matched up new congresswomen with women who were already in office.

When Riley won the election, Angela invited her to a group luncheon. There Riley met the tall, thin woman with fading black hair always pulled into a bun. She was in her early fifties and from Cairo, Kentucky. And since Kentuckians never pronounced cities the conventional way, it was pronounced Kay-ro, like the syrup. Riley was instantly drawn to Angela’s steel and determination to do what was right, not necessarily what was popular. Over the course of a few meetings, Riley had found herself asking Angela for advice and they’d formed a mentor/mentee relationship.

Angela’s brown eyes locked onto Riley’s as she gave her a smile from across the room. Representatives were coming in as they prepared to vote. Interns were running errands, and groups of people were clumped together around the room, talking. “Just the woman I wanted to see. Excuse me, ladies. I look forward to seeing you at lunch today.”

Riley stopped ten feet from the group, and Angela made her way toward her. Reagan had made sure Riley was dressed for success, but Angela was the real deal. Black fitted tea-length suit with a white blouse and colorful chunky jewelry that somehow made her look hip for her age while commanding respect.

Riley smiled at her mentor as she approached. “Thanks. I just heard through the grapevine you have an important meeting after the vote.”

Angela let out an amused laugh that wasn’t loud enough to draw too much attention. “I swear, how do you know everything? I’ve been here almost twenty years, and you already have a better network of spies than I do.”

“A girl never reveals her secrets,” Riley teased.

“Well, I’m glad I got a word with you alone. First I was going to tell you about the meeting, but second, I wanted to warn you about Marge. She was cozied up to me to find out how I was going to vote on the budget. I thought she was on our side with the highway proposal, but I’m afraid even I make mistakes. She’s entered an amendment that would support the highway with the addition of an exit ramp to the Milan Frontier Museum.”

Riley whispered a curse, and Angela nodded in agreement. Milan, like all Kentucky cities named after foreign towns or countries, was pronounced differently than you would expect. Versailles, Kentucky, wasn’t pronounced like the city in France, but like Ver-sales. Following suit, Milan was nothing like the beautiful town in Italy, but Ma-lawn.

Milan had an old fort from the time when pioneers hadn’t made it any farther into what would become Kentucky. The fort had been turned into a museum where people wore period dress and pretended it was still 1779. Milan had a major bone to pick with Old Fort Hill—now known as Old Fort Harrod State Park in Harrodsburg, the first English settlement west of the Alleghenies and founded in 1774. One year later, Lexington was named by a group of Virginia militia camping at Middle Fork of Elkhorn Creek, now known as Town Branch, in honor of the Battle of Lexington in Massachusetts leading up to the Revolutionary War.

Fort Harrod had reconstructed the original fort and was named a state park. However, Milan had partial remaining buildings and a couple of original buildings, but hadn’t been given designation by the state. They were also a little peeved at being the “second” oldest city in Kentucky. They waged a tourism war against Harrodsburg, and this highway would give them an edge against Harrodsburg, especially if the highway connected to the interstate as some legislators were advocating.

“And,” Angela continued, “she asked me a lot of questions about you specifically. I think she’s joining Peel in standing against you on this highway. I’m sorry.” Angela laid her hand on Riley’s arm as Riley’s mind took in the consequences of this allegiance.

“I made it known to Peel I wasn’t going to back down. I guess I’ll just have to do the same with Marge. I hate this. How can they stand by and let a town be destroyed? Sure, only part of the town will actually be knocked down, but with the highway and now a retaining wall so Keeneston can’t even be seen, and with no exit ramp, the new industry we have brought into the town will move. Plus, over time, the farmers will sell their divided land or just let it go into bankruptcy and move to more rural areas to buy larger tracts of land. Fifteen years from now, Keeneston will be a very different place if I don’t stop this.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you,” Angela said reassuringly as the Speaker called the House to order.

“Thanks. I’ll think of something, even if I have to find
incentives
for each and every person voting for it.”

“Careful, you’re starting to sound like a politician.”

Riley sent a weak smile to her mentor, and they took their seats. Her mind wasn’t on the vote as she thought about how to move forward with saving her town.

R
iley finally shut
off her computer and turned off the light to her office. It was two in the morning, and she had finally found a bill she could support that might sway Marge from voting for the highway. It was a long shot, but in a couple of hours she would try to meet with Marge to feel her out. Right about now, Riley would sell her soul to gain the remaining votes needed to cut the highway from the budget being sent over to the Senate next week.

Keeneston was only thirty minutes from Frankfort, but that night it felt like forever as Riley buttoned her coat and locked her office door. The security guards were already gone for the night, and the Kentucky State Police patrol would be making random drive-by security checks, but she never knew at what times. That meant during this past week she was working the longest hours of anyone at the Capitol, and she had gotten used to walking the echoing halls alone.