“Sure enough. Junior, pull that other chair over here. Angus.” Chastain nodded for the older man to sit back down. When everyone was reseated, the district attorney returned to his chair behind the desk. “Now, Miss—Well, I’ll be damned. During all the introductions, we failed to get your name.”
Alex held center stage. Four pairs of eyes were trained on her, curiously waiting to hear her name. She paused for dramatic effect, knowing that divulging it would cause a profound reaction. She wanted to witness and catalog their individual reactions. She wished she could see Reede Lambert better. He was sitting partially behind her, and the cowboy hat hid all but the lowest portion of his face.
She took a breath. “I’m Alexandra Gaither, Celina’s daughter.”
A stunned silence followed the announcement.
Pat Chastain, befuddled, finally asked, “Who’s Celina Gaither?”
“Well, I’ll be a sonofabitch.” Angus flopped backward in his chair like a collapsing inflatable toy.
“Celina’s daughter. My God, I can’t believe it,” Junior whispered. “I can’t believe it.”
“Somebody want to fill me in, please?” Pat said, still confused. Nobody paid him any attention.
The Mintons openly stared at Alex, searching her face for resemblances to her mother, whom they had known so well. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that the toes of Lambert’s boots were no longer wagging. He drew his knees in and sat up straight.
“What on earth have you been doing with yourself all these years?” Angus asked.
“How many years has it been?” Junior wanted to know.
“Twenty-five,” Alex answered precisely. “I was only two months old when Grandma Graham moved away from here.”
“How is your grandma?”
“She’s currently in a Waco nursing home, dying of cancer, Mr. Minton.” Alex saw no merit in sparing their sensibilities. “She’s in a coma.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you.”
“Where have y’all been living all this time?”
Alex named a town in central Texas. “We lived there all my life—at least, as far back as I can remember. I graduated high school there, went to the University of Texas, and then, straight into law school. I passed the bar a year ago.”
“Law school. Imagine that. Well, you turned out fine, Alexandra, just fine. Didn’t she, Junior?”
Junior Minton turned on his charming smile full blast. “I’d say so. You don’t look a thing like you did last time I saw you,” he told her teasingly. “Best as I recall, your diaper was wet and you didn’t have a single hair on your head.”
Considering the reason for this prearranged meeting, his flirting made Alex uneasy. She was glad when Pat Chastain intervened again. “I hate to butt into such a touching reunion, but I’m still in the dark.”
Angus enlightened him. “Celina was a classmate of Junior’s and Reede’s. They were best friends, actually. Rarely did you see one of them without the other two when they were in high school. Crazy kids.”
Then, his blue eyes turned cloudy and he shook his head sorrowfully. “Celina died. Tragic thing.” He took a quiet moment to collect himself. “Anyway, this is the first time we’ve heard a word about Alexandra since her grandma, Celina’s mother, moved away with her.” Smiling, he slapped his thighs. “Damned if it’s not great to have you back in Purcell.”
“Thank you, but—” Alex opened her briefcase and took out a manila envelope. “I’m not back to stay, Mr. Minton. Actually, I’m acting in an official capacity.” She passed the envelope across the desk to the district attorney, who looked at it with puzzlement.
“Official capacity? When Greg called me and asked if I’d help out his top pro
secutor, he said something about reopening a case.”
“It’s all in there,” Alex said, nodding down at the envelope. “I suggest that you peruse the contents and thoroughly acquaint yourself with the details. Greg Harper requests the full cooperation and assistance of your office and local law enforcement agencies, Mr. Chastain. He assured me that you would comply with this request for the duration of my investigation.” She closed her attaché with a decisive snap, stood, and headed for the door.
“Investigation?” District Attorney Chastain came to his feet. The Mintons did likewise.
“Are you working with the racing commission?” Angus asked. “We were told we’d be carefully scrutinized before they granted us a gambling license, but I thought we had already passed muster.”
“I thought it was all over except for the formalities,” Junior said.