Free Lucky You by Carl Hiaasen Page A

everything that happened. About the robbery and the death threats. Give a statement, file a report. And then let the authorities wait for these bastards—”
    “No.”
    “Listen. These guys will surface soon. They’ve only got six months to claim that jackpot.”
    “Tom, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t have six months. I need the money now.”
    Krome looked at her. “What in the world for?”
    “I just do.”
    “Forget the money—”
    “I can’t.”
    “But these guys are monsters. They’re going to hurt someone else the way they hurt you. Maybe worse.”
    “Not necessarily,” JoLayne said. “Not if we stop them first.”
    The incredible part was, she meant it. Krome would have laughed except he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
    JoLayne, pinching his right knee: “We could do it. You and me, we could find them.”
    “To borrow an old expression: No fucking way.”
    “They’re driving a bright-red pickup.”
    “I don’t care if they’re in the starship Enterprise.”
    “Tom, please.”
    He held her hands. “In my business, fear is a sane and very healthy emotion. That’s because death and disaster aren’t abstractions. They’re as goddamn real as real can be.”
    “Suppose I told you why I need the money. Would it make a difference?”
    “JoLayne, I don’t think so.” It tore him up to look at her, at what they’d done.
    She pulled away and walked to the aquarium. Krome could hear her talking—to herself, to the turtles, or maybe to the men who’d beaten her so badly.
    “I’m truly sorry,” he said.
    When JoLayne turned around, she didn’t appear upset. “Just think,” she said mischievously, “if I get that lottery ticket back. Think of the fantastic story you’ll be missing.”
    Tom Krome smiled. “You’re ruthless, you know that?”
    “I’m also right. Please help me find them.”
    He said, “I’ve got a better idea. May I borrow the phone?”
     
    Shiner awoke to the sight of his mother hovering over him. She was dressed in the white bridal gown that she always wore on Mondays to the Road-Stain Jesus. The outfit was a smash with the Christian tourists—it wasn’t uncommon for Shiner’s Ma to come home with two hundred dollars in cash from donations. Monday was her best day of the week, pilgrimwise.
    Now she told Shiner to get his fat ass downstairs. There was company waiting in the Florida room.
    “And I’m already an hour late,” she said, cuffing him so hard that he retreated under the blanket.
    He listened to the rustle of the wedding dress as she hurried downstairs. Then came the slam of the front door.
    Shiner pulled on some jeans and went to see who was waiting. The woman he recognized, with apprehension, as JoLayne Lucks. The man he didn’t know.
    JoLayne said, “Sorry to wake you, but it’s sort of an emergency.”
    She introduced her friend as Tom, who shook Shiner’s hand and said, “The day guy at the store gave me your address. Said you wouldn’t mind.”
    Shiner nodded absently. He wasn’t a young man who had an easy time putting two and two together, but he quickly made the connection between JoLayne’s battered face and those of his new white rebel brothers, and Bodean. Out of simple courtesy Shiner probably should’ve asked JoLayne who popped her in the kisser, hut he didn’t trust himself with the question; didn’t trust himself to keep a straight face.
    The man named Tom sat next to Shiner on the divan. He wasn’t dressed like a cop, but Shiner resolved to be careful anyway.
    JoLayne said, “I’ve got a big problem. You remember the Lotto ticket I bought Saturday afternoon at the store? Well, I’ve lost it. Don’t ask me how, Lord, it’s a long story. The point is, you’re the only one besides me who knows I bought it. You’re my only witness.”
    Shiner was a mumbler when he got nervous. “Saturday?”
    He didn’t look at JoLayne Lucks but instead kept his eyes on the folds of his belly, which still bore