Risk of a Lifetime (21 page)

Glancing at his wife, he felt the ache of the hard clench of his jaw. God, he loved her.

Nothing she’d ever done or said had been to put him down. She’d only been protecting herself from her own insecurities. He’d done the same by believing the words from his childhood that he wasn’t good enough. The hell with that. He was damn good. Good enough to fight to save her any way he had to. Whatever the situation called for today, Marcy would survive, or he’d die trying.

That simple. Raw and brutal. No regrets.

“Backup would sure be nice about now.” He gripped the Glock tighter.

“I’m on my way, man. We’re all on our way.” Landon hung up.

Question was…would they get there in time?

…

JB dialed his ex-boss. He needed to know why the man had made him a target. He’d racked his memory for an answer. A reason. Knowing why would give him an edge. Allow him to turn the tables on the killer. Might even be enough to get out of this alive.

“What do you need, JB?” Wilson answered like a man in charge. Concerned. Willing to help. Like a man who actually cared.

For an instant, the thought crossed JB’s mind that maybe Landon had played them all. But it passed. He’d concentrate on Wilson for the moment. “Tell me about the two women victims.”

Papers shuffled again. Or was that the sound of dried leaves crunching beneath a boot? Slapping at clothing as someone ran through the bushes?

“No one ever came forward to claim the remains on one of them. You and Landon came up with the identification on the other woman. Twenty-six. A runaway who latched onto the city and stayed. You two tracked down the parents. Dad a farmer. Mom a gift shop manager. Landon arranged to ship her body back to Oklahoma. Only thing he did right on that job.”

JB jogged his memory. “I never helped ID anybody on that case. Give me a minute to think.”

He concentrated on the day of the bust. The going in. The blast. The wrap-up. The processing. The paperwork and sign-off. Nothing else. No Mom. No Dad. No Oklahoma. In fact, the only time he talked to Landon was an hour after the blast when he’d finally showed up. Said he’d overslept. Said a wreck on the highway had slowed him down. Said he’d forgotten his phone. From the little JB had seen Landon up until then, he’d always seemed like a rock-hard lean-over-the-edge protocol type of special agent. That day, he’d seemed off. Almost human. JB had found him standing in a corner at one point, staring at the floor.

JB forced himself to see the room in detail. Landon had squeezed the bridge of his nose. Face red as a stop light. Looked at the ceiling. Steadied against the wall. Squeezed the bridge of his nose again. JB had asked him if something was wrong. Landon had said he was just coming down with a cold.

Wilson had walked in about that time. The man had stared at the floor. Bent next to a young woman’s body. Blond hair. Black, leather boots. Even touched her hand, her hair. Brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. Strange behavior for an agent. Especially one who’d been in charge of the bust until that morning. Then he’d jumped up and walked out the door. Said he’d get out of the way.

Landon had said he would finish up his side of the paperwork at home. JB had never seen him again until he’d shown up in Marcy’s hospital room.

JB blew out a sigh. Time to push. To antagonize. “Carla. The woman from Oklahoma was named Carla. Right?”

“Right. How did you know if you didn’t help with the ID?” Wilson laced his voice with accusation.

“You mentioned her.”

“I never mentioned Carla at work.”

Quiet, quiet, quiet.

Had Wilson realized what he said?

“Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it was someone else who knew a Carla.”

“That’s right. B…because I never knew…never… There are lot…lots of women named Carla in the world.” Wilson seemed to choke on the words.

“Yeah, couldn’t have been you. That guy always talked about his girlfriend. Some woman named Carla.” JB had him dead to rights. Everything that had happened since he’d arrived in Crayton was revenge. Revenge for someone Wilson loved. JB loved Marcy. Everything fell into place. “The guy talked about how they were going to South America. A vacation. Might even find a place to buy. Wish I could remember who that was.”

He knew exactly who it was. Wilson. At the time, JB had wondered how they could afford a vacation property on an FBI salary. He’d figured the woman must be rich. The way Wilson had talked about her, one would have thought she was the greatest thing he’d ever had in his life. Must have been to push him to this.

A bump on the side of the house jerked his attention in that direction. After walking to the window, he leaned his ear against the louvers. He could swear he heard a footstep on the porch. Not loud but still a footstep. JB’s anger roiled. When you couldn’t even trust your backup, you were on the devil’s doorstep.

Wilson panted. “You never did say where you were hiding.”

What the hell. The man had to be close anyhow. “We’re at a friend’s cabin on the lake.”

“Bet you even got one of them green wooden swings facing the lake on the front porch. Maybe a tractor-looking bird feeder on the rail.”

JB glanced out the window at the green swing. The bird feeder.

The man was close. Close as the wind outside.

There was one more thing that had been gnawing on JB’s mind. “Hey, when did you contact Landon about coming to Crayton?”

“I left him a voice mail right after you and I talked that afternoon. He didn’t call back until about 8:00 the next morning. Why?”

“Then how did he manage to be in my wife’s hospital room by nine o’clock that morning? Springfield is a good three hours away. It’s almost like he planned everything from the start. What do you think? Why would he do that? Of course, I guess a really smart mastermind would have thought of everything.”

JB waited for a response. Maybe that would be enough to goad Wilson into making a mistake. Into taking credit. Make him confess everything now, so the final confrontation could be quick and done.

“I…you’re right. Takes a smart man to get away with all this.” Wilson paused. “Tell me JB, have you figured out what you did to Landon? What made him want to make you suffer? ‘Cause he’s sure tortured you these past couple weeks. I couldn’t believe he tried to kill your wife right there in the hospital.”

JB punched the wall. Hard and to the point. The son of a bitch on the phone had tried to kill Marcy. He’d been the volunteer with room information back at the hospital, planning everything so Landon would take the fall that day. Even so far as setting the stage to allow Leon out on bail.

Calm, play this calm. “Yeah. Like they say, you never know who your enemies are.”

Wilson chuckled, low and conniving. “Friends…you never know who your friends are.”

“We’ll talk about friends and enemies the next time I see you.” JB ended the call and tossed the phone on the sofa. Didn’t need to talk to anyone else anytime soon. Now, the game centered on the here and now. Him and Marcy.

He knew his friends. They were on their way.

She followed his movements with her eyes. He listened at the window again.

Motioning Marcy to stay quiet, he walked back to her and leaned in close. “You heard me say it’s Wilson?”

She nodded.

“I need to see if he’s set anybody else up. Get him to admit he killed Jennings. Ratted me out.” JB’s lips brushed the hair next to her ear. “I need your help to pull off the plan we talked about. Can you do that? Will you help me?”

She bit her lip, then mouthed. “Yes.”

“Good girl. You can do this.”

She turned to his ear. “What are you going to do?”

He grinned. “Let him in.”

After a quick kiss on her lips, JB pushed her behind him. He turned, she turned. Two people…one movement.

A scratch on the back of the cabin caused him to raise his gun in the direction of the bedroom. Quiet. A lot of quiet seconds. He clocked it on his watch. Cat and mouse sounds or staging sounds? Tiny pecks sounded on the roof like a handful of pebbles being thrown on top. Don’t imagine. Don’t put too much emphasis on any one thing. Could be the rain. The storm. The wind. Could be any number of things.

He zoned into himself, didn’t let his guard down. His back muscles tensed along with his sharpened focus. Adrenaline rampaged through his system. Control. Get the edginess under control. When the moment came, he had to make sure to tell Marcy what to do a second before he reacted.

Wilson had to be outside. Why was he waiting? Didn’t matter. They’d wait him out. Play this out on their own terms.

The two of them stood and turned. Stood and turned, for what seemed like hours. His watch showed ten minutes. Only ten minutes, but more than enough time to set a trap. At least he knew the skunk’s stripe now. One step closer than when he woke up. He processed through the little he knew of Wilson’s routine. Not much there.

Footsteps on the porch. Not quiet. Not sneaking up.

Strong, stomping footsteps. Blunt and in-your-face, I’m-here footsteps.

JB faced the front door, pointed and gripped the Glock with both hands. Squared his stance.

“Hey, JB. Thought you might need help.” Wilson banged on the door. “You in there, JB? Marcy? Let me in. I’ve come to help.”

…

Marcy closed the bedroom door then turned on the shower in the bathroom. Followed the plan. She opened the window where JB’d removed the screen last night. She waited for him to give her the final verbal cue to go. Go out the window, through the trees, down to the lake. He’d told her to climb into the boat and push off.

He’d keep Wilson occupied in the house long enough for her to get away. The script hinged on the jerk believing she was taking a long shower. The ploy hinged on JB risking his life to harvest info from a man crazy enough to blow up a building in broad daylight.

A slight quiver ran the length of her body. From the bits she figured out from JB’s phone conversation, Wilson intended to make her husband hurt the same way he’d hurt. In fact, this guy would probably look her in the face and truthfully say it wasn’t personal as he shot her. Might not be personal to him, but it was mighty personal to her. The idea of JB being hurt in any way was more than she could bear to think about.

She waited.

Getting into the boat frightened her. The idea of being in the middle of the lake by herself scared the bageebers out of her. Sure, she could swim. That wasn’t the point. The boat and the water were the fear factor. Rubbing the back of her head, she half expected to still feel the lump from hitting her head on the side of the boat the day it had capsized years ago. If JB hadn’t jumped in to save her, she’d have sunk to the bottom.

She remembered fighting the water and herself and him. Water mixed with bubbles. Bubbles from her nose as they headed to the light of the water’s surface high above her. Another quiver ran her body. Then another.
Fight the fear.
All she had to do was get out the window, run to the dock, and fight the fear of the water.

“Hey, JB. Open the door.” Wilson yelled. “I came all this way to help. Surely you can let a buddy in out of the cold.”

“Hold on. I’m coming.” JB’s voice sounded tired. Fake-tired for the most part.

She heard the slight movement of the sofa. The latch on the door being thrown. Her husband baited the killer into their space so she had a chance to get away. What happened after JB got his answers?

Her heart pounded with each word she strained to hear. If she missed her cue, then the set-up would be a bust. As much as she wanted to stay and help, she’d follow the plan. She would not let JB down.

“Come on in, Wilson. Glad to see you. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” JB sounded like a guy opening the door to a high-stakes poker party. These stakes were even higher. “I can use all the help I can get.”

The stomping boots from the porch walked onto the wooden floors in the living room. She swallowed hard. Her breath shallowed, quickened. Nausea vied against her nerves for first place.

“Figured as much. Cut my vacation short just to help you out,” Wilson said. “What the heck took you so long to open the door?”

“Trying to get a little sleep while Marcy takes a shower.” JB chuckled. “I swear that woman uses more water than a steam locomotive.”

Wilson laughed. The noise filled her mind with visions of elves and gnomes on crack.

The sound of her husband’s fake yawn and stretch brought her on alert. Soon. Real soon. She’d do what he planned. JB would handle the rest and make sure they survived. She had to believe that the two of them would be okay. She had to get out.

Out the window. Into the boat. Out of the cove. Had to…had to…had to.

“I haven’t gotten much sleep the past couple nights. If you don’t mind, maybe you can stand guard while I get some rest,” JB said.

“You got it, buddy.” Wilson’s voice held her attention. Somewhere between crazy and sane, his words flowed like sludge. Slow and heavy. “Can you help me bring in my gear from the truck first?”

The sofa scraped the floor a bit. “Help me move this sofa out of the way of the door.” JB’s cue. She inhaled deep. Readied herself.

The sofa scraped again. She hoisted herself to the window, looking outside. At least the fog had lifted. Loud and long, the sofa scraped and banged against the floor, slamming into the wall as she climbed outside. Her coat snagged on a nail from the window frame. She pulled. Pulled again. Had she made a noise? She slipped from the coat and left it hanging.

She ran for the trees. Through the trees. Gun. Where was her gun? The gun? Her stomach cramped. She’d left the gun in the coat…on the nail at the window. Maybe she should go back for it. No. Run. Water…where? She tripped. Slammed into a tree limb. Ran again. The thick fog held heavy in the trees as if trapped. Her feet went out from under her on slick mud, and she crashed to the ground. Slid into a clearing in the woods where the sun had found a spot to soak up the fog. Fast, she jumped back up. Finally, she had a clear skyline through the trees to find her way. Where was the dang boat? She stopped, looked around.

No. No, no, no. Not good. She’d run parallel to the lake. Hadn’t even bothered to look for the water as she ran. Wouldn’t have seen it for the fog. She’d used up valuable time going in the wrong direction. She retraced some of her steps, then turned and started down toward the dock.