The Winner by David Baldacci

Jackson pulled four singles from his pocket and handed them to her. “Then consider that risk eliminated and a hundred percent return on top of it.”

She rubbed the money between her fingers. “I wanta know what’s in it for you. I’m a little too old to believe in good fairies and wishes on a star.” LuAnn’s eyes were clear and focused now.

“Again, a good question, but one that only becomes applicable if and when you agree to participate. You’re right, however: I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart.” A tiny smile escaped his lips. “It’s a business transaction. And in all good business transactions, both sides benefit. However, I think you’ll be pleased at how generous the terms will be.”

LuAnn slid the money into her bag. “If you need my answer right this very minute, it’s going to be a big, fat no.”

“I realize that my proposition has certain complexities. Therefore, I will give you some time to think about it.” He wrote a toll-free phone number down on a piece of paper and held it out to her. “But not too much time. The monthly lottery drawing takes place in four days. I have to have your answer by ten A.M. the day after tomorrow. This number will reach me anywhere.”

She looked at the paper in his hand. “And if I still say no in two days, which I probably will?”

Jackson shrugged. “Then someone else will win the lottery, LuAnn. Someone else will be at least fifty million dollars richer and they certainly won’t waste any time feeling guilty about it, I can assure you.” He smiled pleasantly. “Believe me when I tell you that a lot of people would gladly take your place. Gladly.” He put the paper in her hand and closed her fist around it. “Remember, one minute past ten A.M. and the offer to you is gone. Forever.” Jackson of course did not mention the fact that if LuAnn said no, he would have her immediately killed. His tone was almost harsh, but then he quickly smiled again and opened the door for her, glancing at Lisa as he did so. The little girl stopped thrashing and stared wide-eyed at him. “She looks just like you. I hope she got your brains as well.” As she passed through the doorway, he added, “Thank you for coming, LuAnn. And have a nice day.”

“What makes me think your name ain’t Jackson?” she said, giving him a piercing stare.

“I sincerely hope to hear from you soon, LuAnn. I like to see good things happen to deserving people. Don’t you?” He shut the door softly behind her.

CHAPTER FOUR

On the bus ride home, LuAnn clutched both Lisa and the piece of paper bearing the phone number with equal tenacity. She had the very uncomfortable feeling that everyone on the bus was acutely aware of what had just happened to her and was judging her harshly as a result. An old woman wearing a battered coat and droopy, torn knee-high stockings gripped her plastic shopping bags and glared at LuAnn. Whether she was really privy to LuAnn’s interview or simply resented her youth, looks, and beautiful baby girl, LuAnn couldn’t be sure.

She sat back in her seat and let her mind race ahead to examine her life if she said yes or no to the proposal. While declining the offer seemed to carry with it certain consequences, all of them emblazoned with Duane-like features, acceptance seemed to bear its own problems. If she actually won the lottery and came into incalculable wealth, the man had said she could have anything she wanted. Anything! Go anywhere. Do anything. God! The thought of such unbridled freedom only a phone call and four days away made her want to run screaming with joy through the bus’s narrow aisle. She had put aside the notion that it was all a hoax or some bizarre scheme. Jackson had asked for no money, not that she had any to give. He had also given no indication that he desired any sexual favors from her, although the full terms had not, as yet, been disclosed. However, Jackson did not strike her as being interested in her sexually. He had not tried to touch her, had not commented on her features, at least not directly, and seemed, in every way, professional and sincere. He could be a nut, but if he was he certainly had done an admirable job of feigning sanity in front of her. Plus, it had cost money to rent the space, hire the receptionist, and so forth. If Jackson was certifiable, he definitely had his normal moments. She shook her head. And he had called every number correctly on the daily drawing, before the damn machines had even kicked them out. She couldn’t deny that. So if he was telling the truth, then the only catch was that his business proposal resonated with illegality, with fraud, with more bad things than she cared to think about. That was a big catch. And what if she went along and then was caught somehow, the whole truth coming out? She could go to prison, maybe for the rest of her life. What would happen to Lisa? She suddenly felt miserable. Like most people, she had dreamt often of the pot of gold. It was a vision that had carried her through many a hopeless time when self-pity threatened to overtake her. In her dreams, though, the pot of gold had not been attached to a ball and chain. “Damn,” she said under her breath. A clear choice between heaven and hell? And what were Jackson’s conditions? She was sure the man would exact a very high price in exchange for transforming her from penniless to a princess.

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