Turning Point Chapter One

Lightning slashed across the sky. Seconds later, a clap of thunder struck with enough force to rattle the glasses hanging above the bar. Freezing rain, a few feet of snow, temperatures low enough to freeze his butt--a kick-ass storm heading straight at them.

Rick Zans stood at the front window inside The Tarot Cafe and looked up at the storm clouds as dark and forbidding as the blackness in his heart.

Ten years, two months, five days. Half his adult life spent locked in a cage like an animal, all because of her. Soon she'd pay for every fucking minute he'd lost.

"Rick, are you out there?"

He turned at the sound of Leandra Knight's voice. She elbowed her way through the kitchen's swinging doors and stepped into the dining room, holding a large cake box with both hands.

"M.B. should be here any minute, then we're done." She laid the box on one of the tables near the door. "I don't think you've met her yet. Red hair, really cute little gal. I have a couple things to finish in back. If she pulls up, just hand her the box and lock up. You're free to go after that."

Free to go. Like hell.

"That's it?"

"The storm calls the shots from now on. M.B.'s probably the only one brave enough to drive in this. Once she drops off the cake at Piney Point, she'll hunker down too."

He tried not to flinch when Leandra touched his arm. A hard and fast rule of prison life--never advance on anyone unless you plan to kill them. You touched no one, and no one touched you.

"Thanks for all your hard work today, Rick. We couldn't have secured the place in time without you. I'm really glad you took the job."

He stepped back from her and jammed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. The job was a means to an end. He didn't need the money, but it set his plan in motion. As soon as he got what he came for, he was out of there.

"Sure no problem. I'll wait for her." Make that ten years, two months, six days!

* * * * *

M.B. Hunter loved the mountains, from the bite of the fresh chill air to the freedom it gave her to live in the moment.

The threat of a harsh winter? No big deal.

The first storm of the season? Bring it on!

The possibility of being marooned in her cabin for several days? A good time to straighten her closets and catch up on her reading.

After growing up in Queens, amid a jungle of asphalt and graffiti mixed with the broken dreams of boarded-up storefronts and burgeoning unemployment, M.B. looked around her and knew she had it all. She'd never tire of the splendor and majesty of the High Sierra, no matter what Mother Nature threw her way.

She frowned, remembering it hadn't started out that way. Fresh out of law school and with her California license in hand, she'd headed straight to Southern California, the land of sun and fun, "swimming pools and movie stars" like they'd said in The Beverly Hillbillies trailer.

Too soon, the glamour of L.A. wore thin. Movie stars without makeup, she discovered, looked worse than she did, and drugs were so much a part of the club scene, she'd tired of that the first month.

Worst of all, she despised her job as a public defender. She worked twenty-hour days to eke out enough to cover the rent on her studio apartment at the beach. Living inland sent her hacking and coughing on the yellowish-gray haze that hung in the air and hid the peaks and ridges of the San Gabriel Mountains most of the time. She'd come to California to soak up the sun. Instead, she'd spent most of her time stuck in traffic while she lived on antihistamines and over-priced coffee drinks to stay awake.

Finally, on her twenty-eighth birthday, while she gobbled down half a Black Forest torte, M.B. realized she had nothing.

Yes, she was now fluent in Spanish. Yes, she'd learned the difference between Kimchi and Tai Chi. And yes, she'd had the dubious pleasure of matching straight shots of vodka with a studly Russian mobster named Sergei. And the even more dubious pleasure of fucking her brains out with a gorgeous member of Shinn Fein. Unfortunately, he tried to blow up the L.A. County Courthouse the next day.

That's when she realized that somewhere along the way she'd lost her love of the law and a damned big part of her soul.

A week later, cell phone in one hand and ATM card in the other, M.B. caught the first plane north. There, in a frozen little village atop the highest peak she'd ever ascended, she learned miracles still happened.

This afternoon, she looked up at the sky and then at her watch. She knew she had to hurry or she'd have a catastrophe of nature to deal with if she got stuck in the snow. The perfect place to freeze to death. She shivered at the dire prospect and turned into an empty parking space outside the cafe. The Tarot stood at the far end of Bridge Street, which ran right through the heart of Truckee's historic district. Hers was the lone vehicle still on the road. Everyone else had been smart enough to call it a day. She looked at her watch again. She'd be home safe and warm in half an hour.

* * * * *

"Rick, get the door!" Leandra called out at the sound of someone banging on the front door.

Where did he go? This isn't good. She hurried to the front door.

"I thought you'd forgotten about me," M.B. said. A rush of cold air followed her inside. She stomped the slush off her boots. "Damn, it's hot in here."

"That's because you were outdoors. It's perfect."

"Maybe for you." M.B. pulled off her gloves, stuffed them in her pockets, and unsnapped her parka. Leandra gasped.

"My god, where's your shirt, woman?"

Beneath her parka, M.B. wore only a lavender tuft of lace that would have shredded under the weight of heavier breasts. She grabbed the lapels and pulled her jacket together. "I was at the gym. This woman came gliding by with a big ol' smoothie in her hand. She waved to someone as I turned. Bingo, right down the front of my shirt. You can't go out in something wet in this weather."

Leandra raised an eyebrow. "You couldn't have borrowed a T-shirt?"

"I was in a hurry to get here."

"Shirtless is better?"

"It's warmer than wet." M.B. opened the parka again. "Besides, isn't this bra gorgeous?"

"If you're meeting someone special for a little matinee."

"Where does it say we can't wear something sexy for ourselves?"

Leandra thought a moment then laughed. "I'm sure my mom could quote the source, chapter and verse. It's lovely, M.B., but I'm more worried about you getting home before the storm."

M.B. waved aside her concern. "I've been ready for it for three days. Kindling's laid so as soon as I get home I'll drag in the cats, pour myself a nice glass of Merlot and strike a match. I'll be good 'til Sunday."

"Synda and I were telling someone about your cat sanctuary today. He took Buddy's job." She picked up the cake. "I wanted you to meet him."

"Who? Why don't I already know him?"

"You might have seen him around town. He's been here about a week." Leandra sealed the lid of the cake box with a couple pieces of tape.

"He likes cats?"

Leandra grimaced. "Hates them."

"You'd hire a cat hater?"

"Trust me, he's a nice guy...plus we were desperate."

M.B. narrowed her eyes. "How desperate?"

Leandra hesitated before answering. "Look, even ex-offenders need a break."

"What!"

"It's not like that," Leandra said. "He was wrongly accused.

M.B. dropped her head into her hands. "Oh God, I don't believe I'm hearing this." She looked up. "So what was he wrongly accused of?"

Leandra mumbled something.

"Say again."

"He didn't do it. We know that because we Googled him."

M.B. threw her hands in the air. "But of course. If it's on Google it has to be true." She gripped Leandra's wrist. "What did he do?"

"He was convicted of rape and attempted murder."

"What?"

At M.B.'s indignation, Leandra straightened her spine and thrust out her chin. "He was exonerated by a program called The Innocence Project. You must have heard of it."

"I've heard of it. When?"

"Last year. He's perfect for Buddy's job. He's a big guy. Poor Synda's always dragging a ladder behind her. He can reach all the places she can't."

"Do you know anything about him besides what you Googled?"

"All that we needed to know. He's a little rough around the edges, but we can help him with that."

"Lea, I spent too many months defending people who claimed they were innocent. Some were, some weren't, but none of them was moving in with my best friends."

"He's not like that."

"I don't care if you see a halo above his aura. Every con's got a sob story. You can't take them at their word." She balled her fists. "For once, girlfriend, err on the side of safety. Before you let this guy into your lives, make sure you know him. Googling isn't enough."

"He was staying at the campground, M.B., in a sleeping bag. We couldn't let him freeze to death in the storm when Buddy's cabin is just sitting there."

M.B. sighed. "I know you keep a gun in the safe. Take it out and slip it under your pillow. Promise me you will."

"I don't like guns."

"Then tell Synda to put it under hers." M.B. shook her head. "When do I get to meet this innocent man?"

"Why would you want to meet him?"

"So I can pick him out in a lineup later."

Leandra ran a hand through her hair. "I can't believe you were ever a defense attorney. You never think anyone's innocent."

"Not true. I defended a lot of folks who would have gone down if they'd drawn another P.D. I'm just not the proverbial cockeyed optimist that I used to be. I don't care if I sound like our mothers--it's better to be safe than sorry." She looked over her shoulder into the empty dining room. "So where is he?"

Leandra pointed to the sky. "Forget it. You can meet him later. Syn and I will be fine." She took a moment to tamp down her temper. M.B. could be so stubborn. "Now get out of here before the storm hits full force. It's not going to wait for you to get home."

"I'd feel a lot better if you and Syn came with me. Promise me you'll make sure this guy stays put in Buddy's place and doesn't come inside the cafe." She pulled her keys and gloves out of the pockets. "Hey, thanks for the cake. The old folks up at Piney Point get so excited when you send one over. Perfect for a dark and stormy night."

"Our pleasure, Snoopy." Leandra held the door open then followed M.B. to her SUV. She rubbed her arms against the cold while M.B. laid the cake flat in the foot well on the passenger's side. "Drive carefully," Leandra said. "You can feel the snow's itching to start."

They hugged before M.B. slid behind the wheel.

"Call me the minute you get home. If you don't, we'll come looking for you."

"Half an hour tops and I'll be there, feet up, surrounded by fat, spoiled kitties." She wriggled her fingers in a goodbye wave. "And put that gun under your pillow."

* * * * *

M.B. threw the gearshift into drive but sat a moment before releasing the brake.

The Innocence Project. Since Leandra had said the name, so many thoughts tumbled through her mind, none more troubling than the decision she'd made when she'd been too young to deal with the consequences of a lifetime of guilt. She couldn't make up for her past. She'd hurt someone terribly and she'd take that to her grave. But she wasn't foolish enough to allow her friends, no matter how well-meaning, to put their lives in jeopardy.

She hid her frown until Leandra stepped back inside the cafe. Then M.B. pulled out her cell phone and dialed the sheriff's office.
 

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