Jackson stared at the truly remarkable countenance of LuAnn Tyler. Of the twelve lottery winners, she had been by far the most memorable. There was danger in that woman, danger and a definite volatility that drew Jackson like the most powerful magnet in the world. He had spent several weeks in Rikersville, Georgia, a locale he had picked for one simple reason: its irreversible cycle of poverty, of hopelessness. There were many such places in America, so well documented by the government under such categories as “lowest per capita income levels,” “below standard health and education resources,” “negative economic growth.” Stark fiscal terms that did little or nothing to enlighten anyone as to the people behind the statistics; to shed light on a large segment of the population’s free fall into misery. Ever the capitalist, Jackson surprisingly did not mind the added element of his actually doing some good here. He never picked rich people to win, although he had no doubt most of them would have been far easier to persuade than the poor he solicited.
He had discovered LuAnn Tyler as she rode the bus to work. Jackson had sat across from her, in disguise, of course, blending into the background in his torn jeans, stained shirt, and Georgia Bulldogs cap, a scruffy beard covering the lower part of his face, his piercing eyes hidden behind thick glasses. Her appearance had struck him immediately. She seemed out of place down here; everyone else looked so unhealthy, so hopeless, as though the youngest among them were already counting the days until burial. He had watched her play with her daughter; listened to her greet the people around her, and watched their dismal spirits noticeably lifted by her thoughtful comments. He had proceeded to investigate every element of LuAnn’s life, from her impoverished background to her life in a trailer home with Duane Harvey. He had visited that trailer several times while LuAnn and her “boyfriend” had not been there. He had seen the small touches LuAnn had employed to keep the place neat and clean despite Duane Harvey’s slovenly lifestyle. Everything having to do with Lisa was kept separate and immaculate by LuAnn. Jackson had seen that clearly. Her daughter was her life.
Disguised as a truck driver, he had spent many a night in the roadside diner where LuAnn worked. He had watched her carefully, seen the terms of her life grow more and more desperate, observed her stare woefully into her infant daughter’s eyes, dreaming of a better life. And then, after all this observation, he had chosen her as one of the fortunate few. A decade ago.
And then he had not seen or spoken to her in ten years; however, a rare week went by that he did not at least think of her. At first he had kept quite a watchful eye on her movements, but as the years went by and she continued to move from country to country in accordance with his wishes, his diligence had lessened considerably. Now, she was pretty much off his radar screen entirely. The last he had heard she was in New Zealand. Next year could find her in Monaco, Scandinavia, China, he well knew. She would float from one locale to the next until she died. She would never return to the United States, of that he was certain.
Jackson had been born to great wealth, to every material advantage, and then it had all been taken away. He had had to earn it back through his skill, his sweat, his nerve. LuAnn Tyler had been born to nothing, had worked like a dog for pennies, no way out, and look at her now. He had given LuAnn Tyler the world, allowing her to become who she had always wanted to be: someone other than LuAnn Tyler. Jackson smiled. With his complete love of deception, how could he not appreciate that irony? He had spent most of his adult life pretending to be other people. LuAnn had spent the last ten years of hers living another life, filling in the dimensions of another identity. He stared into the lively hazel eyes, studied the high cheekbones, the long hair; he traced with his index finger the slender yet strong neck and began to wonder once more about those trains, and the truly wonderful collision they might one day create. His eyes began to shine with the thought.