Big Daddy Sheriff (Big Cedar Daddies #1)

Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Lana sat in her office and stared out the window.

She had a crappy view. What did she expect? It was a crappy car lot. But it served its purpose. Beyond washing her money, it actually turned a decent profit. She sold lemons to people with shitty credit and nowhere else to turn. She could charge whatever she wanted and they’d pay it. They were desperate. Of course, they had to finance it, but she got away applying astronomical interest rates. What could anyone do about it?

During her last senate race, her opponent had raised the issue, trying to make it a point of contention with the voters. She’d been able to dodge the arrows, though.

She could dodge any arrow.

Well, almost any.

Her daughter was proving to be quite a problem.

She kept staring out the window, through the slats of the blinds, watching as one of the salesmen—Bill or Bob or some boring name like that—showed a 2003 Honda Civic to a young man. The kid had tattoos, piercings, and tattered clothes.

Lana just rolled her eyes and then swiveled in her leather office chair to face the door as she heard it opening.

Her righthand man, Steven Henry, came in.

It always bugged Lana that he had two first names. Not really. But Henry? His last name sounded like another first name.

Weird.

He was slightly weird, as a whole. Short and kind of impish. He was good at his job, though. But a bit too soft.

“What is it?” she snapped, irritably.

“How are you?” he asked.

She waved off the question and shook her head, indicating she wasn’t in the mood for idle chit-chat. “What’s up?”

“The calls for you to resign are growing,” he said, grimly. “Even from within the party.”

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes as she tried to ward off the impending headache. “What are the voters saying?”

“Some have emailed and called, voicing their support. A few want you to resign. But you’re still pretty popular with the base.”

She smiled at the good news.

“The podcast helps,” she said. She opened her eyes. “Find a hot-button issue. Whatever people are talking about on social media today. Fire off a statement. Do some research. I’ll do the next podcast episode about that. That’ll distract ‘em.”

Politics were almost too easy, she thought as she grinned even wider. Stir up a good conspiracy theory or two, act like any attempt at accountability was persecution from the other side, and bingo. You had yourself a winning formula.

“Also, highlight the fact that the DA has dropped all charges. Let’s spin this as a political witch hunt.”

“Will do,” Steven replied.

“What else?” she asked impatiently.

“Your daughter,” he said. His discomfort with the subject matter was obvious through the way in which he’d spoken and his change in posture. “Our source inside the attorney general’s office says they’re still moving forward in building a case. And it still hinges on her testimony.”

Lana groaned as she pushed her chair back. The hinges squeaked loudly. She stared up at the ceiling.

“My own flesh and blood,” she lamented.

She’d never forget the first time she met Alyssa. Well, met her as an adult. Of course she remembered giving birth to her. But she wasn’t even sure she’d “met” her then. She certainly never held her. The nurse had whisked the little thing away and Lana never asked to see her again.

But when adult Alyssa had strolled into her life, it had brought up emotions she didn’t even know she could feel.

And my goodness! The girl looked just like her! It was uncanny. Just showed how strong genetics can be.

But the similarities between the two ended at appearance.

Alyssa had not inherited her mother’s fortitude and drive. Plus, she had that pesky conscience.

What a waste.

“I wanted to hand my business off to her,” she said, not really talking to Steven. “She gave me the chance at a legacy.”

Steven seemed to realize he was not supposed to reply and wisely kept silent.

A few heavy seconds later, Lana brought her chair down and looked at Steven. “We can’t use the same two assholes we sent earlier. That damn sheriff or whatever the hell he is will be looking for them. We need to make it look like it’s just some random criminals. A robbery or something. Find someone—anyone—and take care of this. Before the week’s end.”

Steven tried to speak but only croaked. He swallowed a lump in his throat and said, “Ma’am, are you sure? She’s… your daughter.”

Lana shook her head. “I’ve never known this girl. I was a fool to think I could bring her into the fold.” She spun her chair back toward the window. The kid with the piercings was getting into the car. It looked as if he bought it. Good. Another sucker. More cash. Yay.

“Take care of it,” Lana said. “Then we can play the sympathy card with the voters.”

He silently slipped out of the room, ready to obey his marching orders.