MIRA Books
ISBN: 1-55166-714-2

"It's about damn time you showed up. I've been waiting in this alley for twenty minutes and nearly got mugged twice."

"I was detained," she said cooly, giving no indication of how much she detested having to deal with the sorry creature.

"Well, you're damn lucky I waited," he informed her, his Mississippi drawl even thicker due to the liquor. "Another two minutes and I'd have been gone."

"Then I guess it's fortunate that I showed up when I did." Following his lead, she opened the passenger door of the car and nearly gagged on the stench of whiskey and stale cigars as she slid inside. Still she forced herself to pull the car door closed, shutting out the noise from the street musicians and revelers who'd flocked to the New Orleans' French Quarter to celebrate Halloween.

"Fortunate is right, Missy. I'm a busy man," he said, puffing up his chest and straining the buttons on the dated suit coat. "I've got better things to do with my time than to wait around for the likes of you."

Better things like drowning in a bottle of whiskey or slithering into the nearest casino, she thought, even more repulsed by the man now than she'd been when he'd first sought her out six months ago. "Then let's not waste any more of each other's time, doctor. Did you bring the document?"

"Of course, I brought it. But first I want to see the money"

She retrieved the black tote bag that she'd filled with $100,000.00 in cash. Opening it, she angled it so that the light from the street lamp fell on its contents. There was no mistaking the lust in the man's bloodshot brown eyes as he gazed at the money. Like a drug addict about to get his next fix, she thought. But when he reached for the bag, she snapped it closed. "Not so fast, doctor. First, I want the birth certificate."

He fumbled inside his coat pocket, drew out an envelope and hesitated. He narrowed his beady eyes. "You know, your daddy sure loved that little girl. Used to call her his princess. I imagine he'd have paid a lot of money to find out she didn't die in that fire after all."

"Unfortunately for you, my father's dead. And I can assure you I don't place the same value on the result of his indiscretion. My concern is protecting my family's good name. It's the only reason I agreed to pay you for that birth certificate."

He tapped the envelope against his palm, gave her a measuring look. "I imagine your sister would be willing to pay a great deal more to learn who her daddy was. Of course, if you was to–"

"I don't have a sister," she snapped. Fury caused her vision to blur for a moment before she caught herself. More calmly she said, "And I strongly suggest you quit trying to shake me down for more money, doctor. As it is, I'm seriously reconsidering whether or not I made a mistake in not going to the police and telling them about your offer."

"Now hang on a second," he said, alarm in his voice. "There's no need to go dragging the police into a little business transaction between friends."

"You and I are not friends, doctor. And I seriously doubt that the police would see your proposal as a business transaction," she said, toying with him and enjoying the fact that she was making him nervous.

"We had a deal and it's too late for you to try to back out now," he countered and shoved the envelope at her.

She took the envelope. And while he pounced on the bag of cash and began pawing through the stacks of bills, she withdrew the faded sheet of paper from the envelope. An icy cold rage whipped through her as she stared at the form, read the names and examined the signatures.

For a moment, she was eight years old again and listening at the door as her father told her mother he was leaving them. She crushed the paper in her fist. Reaching deep down inside of her, she channeled her anger just as she had that night all those years ago and focused on what had to be done. "You're sure this is the only copy?"

"What? Yeah, it's the only one," he muttered, distracted by all the cash.

She tucked the envelope and crumbled paper inside her purse and reached for the gun. "Then I guess this is goodbye, doctor," she said politely and pulled the trigger.