Risk of a Lifetime (20 page)

Her insides tripped. Something in his tone, his hold, his words. What had she missed? Those words sounded like goodbye. “What are you up to, JB?”

He grabbed the clip, gun, and poker, then headed for the door. “Lock up after I go out. Do not open this door unless it’s me. Anyone else comes through that door without your say-so, shoot ‘em.”

She understood. Nodded. They dimmed the lights. Funny how quick darkness rolled in during the winter. Low and fast, he slipped outside. She set the lock and waited. Overcast, moonless nights in the woods meant complete, smothering darkness. Even though the dark wasn’t something she relished, it didn’t scare her. The water plan did.

Watching JB’s brain work through the what-ifs of this situation made her see him as more than just her husband. Trained to the hilt, he possessed something else. Something she’d seen in him since the day he’d stopped Leon from taking her homework back in sixth grade. The bully never even landed a punch, because JB had turned to the right, faked to the left, and floored him.

She’d been impressed a seventh grader had stood up for her, especially the cutest boy in school. When he’d handed her the papers back, he’d grinned and told her to let him know if anyone ever bothered her again. The rest of that day had been a sheer loss of learning, because she thought of nothing but her champion, JB Bradley.

Now, like then, he knew how to anticipate the other guy’s reaction before the movement. Once this was over, the FBI would ignore his resignation. Fight to get him back. She wanted him back, too.

Maybe that’s what his words were about. He probably figured his career should be the top priority. There’d be no future for the two of them, because he planned to leave. What else could it be? Why else would he say those words in that tone? Why?

She reached for the horticulture book on the sofa. Flipped through the pages. Her husband had sneaked it into his backpack and carried the extra weight through the woods for her. Loving him was easy, so why did she always try to make things so difficult? Not this time. This time she’d never let him go…as long as he wanted to stay. She could handle him being a Crayton deputy. FBI agent? She didn’t know. But he was one damn good agent; that much she did know.

Close to thirty minutes later, JB tapped on the window, then the door, then said her name. She unlocked the door, and he crept inside. They kept the lights off.

“What took so long?” she said.

“Did a little reconnaissance of my own. Listening. Watching.” He gave one bear-shiver to shake off the cold. “The wind’s picking up. Getting nasty out there.”

“Is that good or bad?” She wanted something to be going their way. Anything.

“Neither. Is what it is.”

“Want another pot of coffee?”

He nodded. “Want to play some checkers?”

She nodded in return. Could they shove a lifetime into the next few hours? They could try.

At ten o’clock, he explained the little they knew about the 1038 numbers and their role in the sequence of violent events from the last few days. Then he locked them both back in the bedroom, shoving the chest in front of the door. His theory was 10:38 might be a trigger for the killer. If he’d told her sooner, she’d have been worried all evening. Instead, she only had to worry for the short time.

They waited. 10:15 came and went. 10:30 came and went. He motioned her behind him, and she obeyed. Then he backed them up until they were in the furthest corner from the door, the window, the bathroom. If anyone came in, JB would take the blow. He might go down, but he’d take the shot for her.

Realization thundered through her entire body. Everything from earlier suddenly made sense. The placement of the weapons. How important she knew where they were. His words from before whooshed in her mind, taking root in her heart. To reach out, touch his back, would only be a distraction to him. Put him at risk. She wouldn’t do that.

This might be the end, and all she could do was stand and watch. JB would take the blow destined for her. Go down. Maybe die in her arms. That was what the promise meant. And all he asked was for her to remember how much he loved her. She tightened the grip on her own gun. She’d never been so scared in her life.

The glow from the clock on the night table showed the minutes. 10:35. Was that the right time? Could it be off a minute or two? Was he watching the clock? No, he was tensed, every muscle cocked and ready. He glanced from place to place. Walked to the window and back. 10:36. Stepped to the bedroom door, listened, then backed up to her again. 10:37. He never looked at her. Never acknowledged her.

The minutes ticked by one by one by one.

She touched his back. “The clock says 10:50.”

…

JB made sure Marcy was asleep before he dialed. Might be two-thirty in the morning, but he needed to check in with the Crayton Police.

The clang of a phone being dropped then picked up again reverberated through the receiver. “Patrolman Kennett here.”

“Sorry to wake you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Sounds like you two made it through another 10:38.” The rookie’s voice cleared fast. Meant his brain woke on a dime.

JB scrubbed his palm over his face. He needed a shave. “Anything new?”

“Nothing. The sheriff came out of surgery good. Saved his leg. But he’s still doped up. Not making much sense.”

“Like what?”

“He’ll be talking about Landon. How the man would check in with your boss on the numbers. Then he rambles about fighting the guy in the ski mask for the phone.” Kennett’s voice sounded tired. “Says the guy has brown eyes. Next minute he says they’re blue. Doesn’t make sense.”

“Keep at it. Check with Landon to see if he ever got anything from headquarters.” JB heard the soft sounds of Marcy mumbling to herself in her sleep. At least she could rest for a while.

The rookie cleared his throat. “When I called him this afternoon, it went to voice mail. He never called back. Went to voice mail a couple hours ago, too.”

Maybe he should call Wilson instead. Why? His ex-boss was on vacation and couldn’t do a damn thing to help him. “Try Landon again. Might be he can remember something about a case I haven’t.”

…

Except for light from the fireplace glow, the cabin sat in darkness when Marcy opened her eyes. Still half asleep, she stared as the digital numbers click forward on the bed side clock. 3:20 AM. So, far she’d watched seven minutes. Each click meant one minute closer to 10:38 again. The numbers seemed to mean something to someone angry enough to kill her and JB.

Last night, the two of them played checkers, popped popcorn over the fire in the fireplace, and racked their brains to find any connection to 1-0-3-8.

The only disruption during the night had been the gentle hoot of an owl. JB insisted they didn’t turn any music on. He needed to listen, hear anything out of the ordinary. How could he hear anything through the closed door and windows? Finally, she realized he wasn’t talking about the owl’s hoot or the water’s ripple or the wind through the trees. He meant he knew other sounds. The sounds of a stalker, a shooter. Still fully dressed, she fell asleep about midnight.

The faint glow from the fireplace and the smell of scorched coffee jogged her awake. She stumbled into the kitchen, spying the grungy coffeepot in the sink.

JB shuffled cards at the kitchen table, once again his Glock within easy reach. “I made a mess.”

“Smells like it.” She looped her arms over his shoulders, nibbling his ear. “Come to bed. Lay by me.”

“We can’t, sugar. Much as I’d like to, we can’t.” He kissed her palm.

“It’s not even close to 10:38.”

“But the psycho’s been searching in the dark all night long. The dark can play with people’s minds. Push them over the line. This guy’s probably standing on the edge.” JB pulled her onto his lap.

She liked sitting there. Safe and warm in his arms. “What makes you say that?”

His overhead stretch pulled his body closer to hers for an instant, and then he relaxed again. She watched his face as his arms loosely folded around her.

“He’s missed you four times now. He lost us in the woods. And something tells me the phone didn’t help him as quickly as he’d hoped, or he’d already be here. Trust me, he’s furious. Furious at us. Furious at himself. That means his breaking point is close. Either the police will nab him or…”

“Or what?” Why had she asked? She knew the answer.

JB winked at her, then shuffled her off his lap and reached for the soaking coffee pot.

“No more coffee.” She pulled on his hand. “Come back to bed.”

He shook his head.

“Staring at the door isn’t going to make the worst happen. Come to bed and wrap your arms around me. Get a couple hours sleep.”

A heavy sigh followed his glance at the door before he followed her to the bedroom. After securing the room, he lay on the covers fully dressed as she snuggled against his side.

He glanced at the clock. Already 4:00 AM. He set the clock for 7:00 AM.

Chapter Twenty-three

JB didn’t need the alarm clock to wake him. Howling wind muffled every sound except for the thunderous rain. He rolled out of bed, leaving Marcy and her warmth. Good sense should have kept him from stretching out on the bed in the first place, but the couple hours of sleep felt good. He clicked off the alarm. Let her sleep awhile longer.

Opening the living room shutters provided nothing but a view of the thick, spooky fog. This looked like the kind of day depicted in scary movies. The cabin in the woods. The fog rolling in. The man, the woman, the killer.

Shake it off, man. Shake it off.
He closed the shutters.

All he thought about as he started a fresh pot of coffee was how to lure the shooter into their lair. This stalemate needed to end today. Otherwise, sloppiness might creep in. One sloppy moment could lead to one error. Sometimes, one error ended a successful agent’s career.

Jennings had been a veteran lawman. During their brief time as partners, he’d taught JB everything he could. Would have been even more if the man hadn’t taken the wrong call at the wrong time from the wrong person. He’d probably already have the case solved.

JB ranked the calls he needed to make on his decoy phone, then dialed.

“Deputy Evans here.”

“Hope you got something for me.” JB sat two cups on the table.

“Nothing. Let me shut the door.” The deputy’s footsteps echoed through the phone. “There that’s better.”

JB jogged the coffeepot out and poured. “Last night, Kennett said the sheriff seemed confused on what the guy looked like that attacked him.”

“Maybe not. I got a call from the doc a few minutes ago. He said the sheriff’s awake and talking fine. He still insists the man had brown eyes one second. Then one of his eyes was blue the next.” Evans sighed. “And that partner of yours…Landon.”

JB turned at the sound of Marcy’s footsteps on the floor as she headed to the bathroom. “He’s not my partner. I just worked with him one other time.”

The slam of a folder on the desk rumbled through the phone. “Well, I don’t care who or what he is. In my book, he’s not worth the metal in his shield.”

“Still not answering his calls?” Seemed odd, even for Landon.

“I checked with the phone company to make sure everything’s okay with his line. They said his phone is sitting some place over in Jefferson City.” Deputy Evans voice tensed. “Want me to call Wilson? Your boss? “

“Yeah. You got his number?”

Evans shuffled papers. “Sure thing. I knew I’d seen it in your file somewhere. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything back.”

“Thanks.” JB lingered on the call. Thinking. Without the special contact lens he wore, Landon had one blue eye and one brown.

“You’re awful quiet. What’s wrong?”

Marcy walked into the kitchen fully dressed, including her boots. Hair brushed and smelling of toothpaste, she looked like a good morning wake-up. He hated to ruin her day, but she needed to know his thinking. He motioned her over and pointed her to the chair across the table from him.

“You still there?” the deputy said. “Kennett just walked in. I’ve got you on speaker phone.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s up, JB?” Kennett asked.

“My cop instincts say everything comes to a head today.” JB watched Marcy’s face. Since he’d been old enough to remember, he could always feel a life-changing day the minute he woke up. Today, his instinct churned with fire and adrenaline. This day didn’t feel good. “He’s coming.”

Her expression stayed strong, but her eyes held fear as he covered her hand with his.

“Hold on. Evans is trying to reach your boss.” Kennett’s said. “You got much fog out there?”

“Layers. Like pea-soup. Be mighty hard to come in by boat.” JB glanced up as his wife walked to the front window and did a tiny peek outside. She palmed her hand upward a couple times. “Marcy just motioned that the fog is lifting. My bet is he’ll still come in by road. Maybe walk a ways. You might want to alert anybody living in cabins out here.”

Kennett chuckled. “Beat you to that one. Called everyone last night. Told them to leave the area, or else lock their doors and stay inside.”

Evans mumbled in the background. Probably talking to Wilson. “Okay. I’ll tell him.” The deputy cleared his throat. “JB, Wilson says for you to call him. Right now.”

“Why?”

“He’s checking things out. Landon never called him,” Evans continued. “I’ll let your boss give you the specifics.”

There must be a clue to the 1038. Something so classified, it needed to be relayed agent to agent.

Evans and Kennett were talking over each other, and he refocused on their conversation. “What’s going on?”

“Me, Kennett, and a couple other cruisers are headed your way.” Evans said as a door creaked open and slammed closed in the background. “Kennett’s headed out right now. Don’t worry, we should be there ahead of 10:38.”

JB glanced at Marcy. “The guy won’t wait today. He’ll get antsy. Nervous. Blow his routine.”

“Call Wilson. Get your info. We’re on our way.”

“Hey, Evans, do me a favor before you head out. Request one of the Jeff City police narrow in on Landon’s phone. Check out its location.”

“You got it. Why?”

“Make sure he’s actually where the phone shows.” JB shook his head. He had a bad feeling. Real bad feeling about the person behind all of this. “Things in my life started to fall apart after I met Landon on that meth bust. As I said before, I don’t like coincidences.”

…

JB speed dialed his boss, and Wilson answered on the first ring. “Tell me you got something on 1038?” JB said abruptly.

“The guys in the office are still checking.” Wilson’s no-non-sense attitude carried through the phone. “We’ve put 1038 in as a random along with your name to see what comes up in the secure system. Nothing yet.”

Marcy sat a refilled cup of coffee in front of JB and offered a scared smile before she walked back to the counter for her own cup. He fought the idea that he should have stayed away from her, away from Crayton. Recuperating in the hospital after the last job, the idea of getting back together with her had been the fuel to keep him going. His body might have been healed on its own, but the memories of her were what had healed his mind and emotions.

He knew then that he’d give up everything else to live the rest of his life with her. The past few days might be all they had. At least they’d been together.

The brush of her hand on his jerked him back from his thoughts. She sat in the chair beside him at the table, flipping through the horticulture book. Her eyes focused on each page as if taking in the colors and beauty of the scenes pushed the bluntness of the moment into the shadows. He noticed a tiny twitch right before she turned each page. She’d found her way to cope—one page at a time.

As for him, he needed to focus on the clues. “Come on, Wilson. My gut tells me we don’t have many seconds on this end.”

She twitched. Turned the page. Focused.

His boss cleared his throat. “Okay. Here’s what we’ve got. One case came to a head at 10:38.”

“Which one?” JB walked to the front window, then the side. Peeked through the louvers.

“Job before last. The meth bust. My guys are running the particulars right now.” Shuffled papers sounded through the phone from Wilson’s end. “Hey, before I forget. You were right about Landon. I never should have put him on the robbery case. Crayton Police says he’s a loose cannon.”

“Live and learn, I guess.” JB’s gut clenched tighter and tighter. His bad feeling picked up speed. “I don’t understand why he didn’t call you with the 1038 when Sheriff Davis asked him to. He knew Marcy and I were in danger. Why not ask if you could run a check on the numbers? I’d have done that for my worst enemy if it meant their life.”

“I don’t know. Let’s concentrate on you right now. Take care of him later.” Wilson’s to-the-point mode returned. “Here’s what we’ve got. Date…not even close.”

“What else you got?” he asked.

“Teams ramped into place by10:35 AM. You ordered ‘go’ to your men and broke through the door.” Wilson quieted. “You know, I worked a long time getting that case together to have the glory go to a bunch of others in the Bureau.”

Glory? What glory? JB felt no glory from that bust. People got killed that day. Some guilty. Some innocent. “Let’s talk about that later.”

“Later…yeah, we’ll talk later.” Wilson’s voice kept fading in and out like someone panting as they ran.

What was that noise? A dog? Barking? Where?

“Did I just hear a dog on your end of the line?” JB asked.

“Yeah. The people in the room next door brought their dog on vacation. It’s been a long night.”

“I thought you were back in the office.” He could have sworn Wilson had rattled papers on his desk. Maybe the staff just faxed him the info. Didn’t matter. “What else you got?”

Wilson coughed. Gasped for air. “Explosion in the lab. Time…10:38. Gunfire from both sides. Four casualties in the room. Two men. Two women. Plus our own. Six taken to hospital. Fifteen arrests that day plus three higher-ups two days later. “

“How do we know the exact time?”

Wilson paused, cleared his throat. “Notes say the watch on one of the women victims cracked and stopped at 10:38.”

JB remembered that watch. He’d seen it being numbered for evidence, then a few days later, the watch was gone. He eased his Glock from his shoulder holster. The rest of his armor was in place, but he needed that gun in his hand right now. What had he heard? Sensed? Even with all the new information, why had the conversation made his cop instincts accelerate even higher?

A dog barked outside in the far distance…no, the bark was through the phone. Which? Damn, he couldn’t afford to not be on top of sounds at this point. Had to be Landon.

“I’ll call you right back. I’ve got another call coming in.” JB snapped the phone closed, ignoring the second call from Deputy Evans for a moment. He needed to think. Landon would have already had time to target the cabin from the cell towers. He could be closing in even as JB spoke to Wilson. His insides tensed. “Marcy.”

She stood, shuffled into her coat, and shoved her weapon into her pocket. She didn’t hesitate. “I’m ready.”

“If anything happens, when I tell you to move, don’t stop to think. Just do what I say. Follow our plan.”

“I will.” She pulled her hat onto her head. “JB?”

“Yeah?” He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Please be careful.”

He grinned. “You sound like you care.”

She raced into the crook of his arm, burying her head against him. “I love you, JB. Don’t you dare get yourself killed before I can show you how much.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that, sugar.” He squeezed her against him with one arm and pushed the return call button on the phone.

“Deputy Evans here.”

“You called me.” JB knew Evans wouldn’t have phoned again without a good reason.

“Jeff City tracked Landon’s phone. Found him tied up in an abandoned house just outside of town. I’m patching you through to him now.”

What the hell? Landon tied up?

The phone clicked a couple of times with connections and reroutes. Seconds drug like hours.

“JB, I’m not the one.” Landon’s voice sounded tense, a siren wailed close on his end. “Wilson set everything up to lay blame on me.”

He tried to wrap his mind around those two sentences. Couldn’t be. “How do you know?”

“Long story short. I called headquarters to check on some paperwork that I’d turned in to Wilson. They told me he’d been relieved. Arrested. Evidently, he’d been under investigation for some missing money. They believe Jennings got close, so he had him killed.”

What the hell was going on?

“But I just got off the phone with him.” JB pushed Marcy behind him and aimed his Glock at the door.

Landon grunted with pain. “The Bureau said he escaped before they got him to jail. He gave me a lead on your case last night, then ambushed me when I showed up.”

That would explain Wilson’s new phone number and so-called vacation. Never mind the strange exchange they’d had a few minutes ago. “But why would he be after you and me?”

“Something to do with that meth bust. Some woman that was killed. He said we’d ruined his life. Every time he punched me, he’d yell about how you and I would pay for what we did.”

JB glanced up toward the roof. Had that been a footstep? A falling acorn? A squirrel taking a shortcut? “I didn’t know either one of those women who were killed that day, did you?”

“No. But evidently, he knew one of them as more than an acquaintance.” Landon coughed on an intake of breath. “He kept mentioning something about Oklahoma.”

“The younger girl killed that day was from Oklahoma. I could swear her name was Carla.”

“I don’t know about that, but every time I asked who she was, he’d hit me again. Or get right in my face all crazy-eyed and say how I was getting my payback slow and steady. Seemed real proud of himself that he’d used blue and brown contacts to lay blame off on me when he killed Leon and ran the sheriff off the road.” Landon paused. “Then he’d stomp around the room laughing. Crazy…like he’d gone mad. Once he calmed down, he became the cool professional again.”

None of this made sense any more. Of course, when had it ever made sense? “There’s got to be a reason.”

“Don’t try to figure out why. Focus on keeping your wife safe.” The steady drone of the siren mingled with Landon’s voice ramped the tension. “From what I gathered, he’s after you by using her. Told me he didn’t know which he’d enjoy more—my one-day-at-a-time agony, or the look on your face when he kills your wife right in front of you.”

JB didn’t know what a day-at-a-time agony for Landon meant, but he’d already figured the villain was after himself through Marcy. Now the missing link had fallen into place—Wilson. But who was Carla to him? That could be the key to tripping the man up. Carla? Oklahoma?

“You still there?” Landon asked.

“Yeah. Do you think he’s targeted anyone else?”

“Don’t know. He’s got to be stopped at all costs.”

JB didn’t need anyone telling him what had to be done. He didn’t need the badge to know the procedure. He also knew the unspoken procedures. Ones nobody talked about. Ones that saved lives.