The Lottery Winner. Emilie Rose

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       CHAPTER ONE

      JESSAMINE MARTIN TRIED to appreciate the fingers of peach and salmon creeping over the rooftops as she walked along the Key West boardwalk, but she was too busy waiting for the new pay-as-you-go phone in her pocket to vibrate to concentrate on which tints she could blend to attain those specific hues.

      She missed her family and work. As noisy and chaotic as teaching art to elementary school kids might be, the routine was normal, comforting. This unrelenting solitude wasn’t. She couldn’t even keep track of what day it was unless she checked her watch. Monday. She used to love Mondays. They represented the beginning of a week doing what she loved. That had changed the day the school board demanded she leave.

      She wanted her old life back.

      Gulls squawked and waddled away as she passed, and fish churned the waters of Key West Bight, waiting for the tourists who weren’t up yet to buy food pellets from the gumball machines and toss them into the water. After six weeks of walking this stretch, she could identify some of her nonhuman companions as regulars by their size, colors and scars. So sick of her own company and lack of purpose, she was almost desperate enough to talk to them.

      The waterfront was quiet at the cusp of dawn. Only fishermen moved about, preparing their charter boats for a day of excitement and adventure, traveling out to the Gulf for fishing or to the Tortugas for diving. Her day would be filled with more of the same monotonous schedule she’d adopted since arriving. She’d read another of the paperbacks she’d picked up at the Key West library or do a little painting or sketching if she could rouse the muse. But even her muse yearned for the stark lines of South Carolina’s rolling hills, bare deciduous trees and thick pines.

      The phone buzzed against her hip. She snatched it up so quickly she nearly dropped it as she fumbled to find the right button to answer the unfamiliar device.

      “Is everyone okay?” she blurted.

      “All good here. How are you, Li’l Bit? Enjoying your vacation?”

      She bit her tongue on the automatic impulse to tell her brother for the zillionth time not to call her Li’l Bit and that this was in no way a vacation. But at this point, she didn’t care what Brandon said as long as he called. “Have there been any more...incidents?”

      “The extra workers Dad hired and the Cherokee County deputies are keeping an eye on the orchard. And the Gaffney police have units watching your house and Leah’s and the kids’ day care.”

      She’d been horrified when her brother told her even her sister’s family was in danger. Jessamine couldn’t live with herself if something happened to her precious niece and nephew.

      “Can I come home?”

      Silence filled her ear, and she pictured his grimace. Could she blame him? Same question. Different day. “Not yet,” he responded finally. “That dumb redhead with the local news showed up at Mom and Dad’s last night with a camera crew. She noticed that your car’s been in the same spot in the driveway for weeks and suggested the disappearance of the state’s largest lottery winner is due to foul play. She wants permission to search the orchard. She expects to find your body buried under the peach trees.”

      Not the answer Jessamine had wanted. “I wish I’d never bought that stupid ticket. I only wanted change for a five.”

      “Don’t be a drama queen. Millions of people would kill to be in your shoes. Literally, Jessamine. Remember that. Watch your back. And remember, you wouldn’t be in this predicament if you’d learn to say no instead of giving that mooch money every time she asks.”

      Mortification burned her face. Guilty as charged. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

      “I hope so, because being a people pleaser will take you down. Seventy percent of lottery winners end up bankrupt or dead within a few years.”

      She groaned inwardly. He’d clicked into special agent mode, reciting the overprotective, stern lecture she now knew by heart.

      “Brandon, please stop telling me that every time we talk,” she interjected when he paused for breath. “I heard you the first fifty-something times. You’re only contradicting yourself when you tell me to relax and have fun then try to make me scared of my own shadow.”

      “I don’t want you to become a statistic.”

      “I won’t.”

      Okay, so maybe she hadn’t initially believed his warnings that lottery winners and their family members were exponentially more likely to be victims of violent crimes, kidnappings, blackmailing and lawsuits. At first she’d gone about her life as if nothing had changed, blaming his excessive paranoia on his job as a computer crimes investigator with the South Carolina Law Enforcement Division.

      Then, after the public announcement of her win, the media storm had hit and her life had exploded. Her back door had been kicked in while she was at work and her house ransacked. Many of her belongings had been stolen. And then her car window had been shattered—twice. One of those times had been the day after she’d gotten it back from the repair shop. Next there was a burglary at her school, specifically of her classroom, which had prompted the school board to demand she take a leave of absence until her presence no longer posed a danger to the students. But the final straw had been when her parents’ house had been broken into while her mother was home alone. At that point her brother and father had “strongly encouraged” Jessamine to take a long vacation for everyone’s safety.

      So here she was. Stuck in paradise. And miserable.

      “You still lying low?” he asked.

      “Even you wouldn’t recognize me.”

      “Good. Alternating your routine?”

      She winced and studied the hungry seagull easing closer. As much as she liked to experiment artistically, she was a creature of habit. Routines were soothing and comforting, and comfortable was something she hadn’t been since arriving here. So...she might have wavered on that edict a little—which Mr. Rules and Regulations wouldn’t appreciate.

      “I’m being very cautious. So, what else is new?” she asked in an effort to divert him.

      “Mom enrolled in the concealed-carry class yesterday.”

      Yet another piece of normal chipped away. Jessamine sank onto a dew-dampened bench with her back to the hungry fish. Her mother detested guns. And now she was going to carry one. Because of Jessamine. “The burglar really shook her up.”

      “Getting out of the shower and finding a strange man going through your bedroom drawers tends to have that effect on people. You, Mom and Leah need to be careful. You and Leah should take the CC class, too.”

      That would mean having a gun in her house. She had no problem with firearms. She’d grown up around them. Her father and brother were avid hunters. They’d taught her to shoot a weapon competently and hit a target. But she didn’t need to own a gun. “I don’t want to do that.”

      “Leah has agreed to take it with you.”

      She rocked her head side to side to ease the tension knotting her neck СКАЧАТЬ