Chapter Two
Phone shoved against his ear, JB paced around the commandeered office of Dr. Crowley at Our Lady of the Lake Medical Center while speaking to his boss Kenneth Wilson at the FBI’s Regional Office in Kansas City.
The paramedics had brought the three victims of the shooting here. Thankfully, Marcy’s injuries were mild compared to what might have happened. No bullet wound—she’d been hit by a few chunks of pavement. She was somewhere down the hall being prepped for exploratory surgery on her shoulder to make sure they got all the fragments out.
The bullet that had hit him had only grazed his shoulder, a flesh wound that had already been cleaned and stitched up.
“That’s what I said. No one from the sheriff’s office fired the shots that hit the robber or my ex-wife. Evidently, Leon’s made some enemies in town.” He didn’t half believe his statement, but until he had more proof, he wouldn’t bring up the possibility of a sniper. “The local police asked if I’d be available to help them out on a small task force to work through the bank robbery and shooting.”
He figured the frown on his boss’ face had just deepened. And, truth be known, he didn’t want to stay in town any longer than he had to.
“Afraid I can’t let you do that since you’re emotionally involved.” His boss sucked in air and cleared his throat on the release. “I’ll send Dwight Landon to work with them. You remember him, don’t you?”
“Yeah. We worked a drug bust in Springfield last year.” Even though JB’s main FBI office was located in Kansas City, Missouri, the satellite offices stretched from Garden Center, Kansas, to St. Joseph, Missouri, from Jefferson City to Springfield, Missouri.
Landon seemed okay, but the idea of someone else on his own Crayton turf didn’t sit well. Besides, the agent didn’t compare to his first FBI partner, Albert Jennings, whose death was still an open case. Leads might have faded, but to JB, that case would always be active.
He scrubbed his palm across his hair and glanced through the open doorway into the hall. Sadie Dawson, Marcy’s mom, leaned against the wall, staring at him as if he were the only person she could count on at the moment. He nodded. She nodded in return. Her fingers trembled when she moved them to cover her quivering chin.
Locals referred to Sadie as a resilient, stand-up broad. The tall, willow-thin woman with carrot-red hair would do anything for anybody in need, even the few in town who bad-mouthed her. Right now, she looked scared and needy herself.
A nurse approached her with a handful of papers and a pen. The women talked, then Sadie pointed at him. An uneasy feeling grabbed him as the two walked in the office and stopped. He could feel the hard ache at the involuntary clench of his jaw. He turned and moved to the window, then scanned the parking lot and the surrounding area.
“You still there?” his boss asked.
“Yeah. I don’t know about Landon. There may be a problem with him fitting in around here.”
“Give the guy a chance.” Wilson cleared his throat. “I know you looked up to Jennings, but he’s gone. Move on.”
JB cringed. He’d move on when his partner’s killer rotted behind bars. “Landon’s a shadow. Stays to himself. And if you ask me, which you didn’t, he comes real close to crossing the letter of the law a lot of times. I don’t like working with someone like that.”
He heard what he’d just said and cringed. Hell, he was someone like that. The words he’d just used hit awfully close to home.
“I hear you. For now, see how this goes. Let me know if he gets in the way more than he helps.”
“Hey, I’m not staying around here. I’d planned to be in and out of town in one day, but this robbery has put a hitch in those plans. Once I’ve consulted briefly with the police, I’ll be on my way.” JB raked his fingers through his hair, heaving a loud sigh.
No way in hell was he staying in town. From the letters Sadie had dropped him every so often, Marcy was doing just fine without him.
Wilson cleared his throat. “Don’t you think your wife—”
“Ex-wife!”
“Okay. Don’t you think your ex-wife may feel safer with you around for a few days?” The man paused. “Women are funny that way. Hate you one minute. Can’t live without you the next. Besides, you never know when your expertise may be needed.”
“Then put me in charge of the case.” JB was amazed at the inconsistencies being bantered around in this conversation. His boss never seemed to make up his mind lately.
“What do I have to do to get this through your head?” Wilson’s harsh tone gave no room for discussion. “Special Agent Landon will be lead on this.”
JB fingered his wedding band tucked in his jean’s watch pocket. He had planned to leave it in an envelope at the sheriff’s office before he left town. JB glanced at the nurse and Marcy’s mom waiting just inside the office doorway. Maybe he should stay a few days. Make sure evidence wasn’t being ignored. Man-up and give the ring to his ex-wife in person.
He turned back to the window, braced his hand against the frame. No way would his boss change his decision. No way would Landon come close to knowing how to talk to the locals. No way the Crayton Police Department had the resources or guidance to follow through on leads. Especially with the sheriff being out of town.
Might not be JB’s case, but this was his town, and he wasn’t leaving until the pieces fell into place. Besides, he’d already been wavering about his job with the Bureau. “Remember last month when you put a warning in my personnel file for a no-brainer infraction? Said I needed to be more careful at following your boss’s orders.”
“Sure. I remember. No big deal.” Wilson’s tone sounded less than straight forward.
“Wrong. Being called on the carpet for no good reason was a hell of a big deal in my book.” JB focused on the life-changing words he’d mulled over for the past few weeks, ever since he put in for a transfer. “You know that resignation letter you’re holding for me? The one I gave you in case my transfer request didn’t go through?”
“Now hold on there. I’ve got a good idea what you’re going to say, so take this piece of advice before you speak. Don’t make any rash decisions. You’ve got a career to think about. Your future.” Wilson’s flat, non-conciliatory tone sounded about as sincere as dirt.
“I already thought.” JB steeled his resolve around his next words. “Pull the resignation out and file it. Effective. Immediately.”
Enough said. He ended the call. Protocol would have been to handle the leaving in person, but unusual times called for unusual means to an end.
After clicking to his e-mail files, he pulled out a copy of the resignation and forwarded it to Wilson and Wilson’s boss as added assurance that they both knew he quit. Whatever he needed to do to protect Marcy and this town would be his own call. Not the Bureau’s.
The phone rang as he turned back to the women. Caller ID showed his boss—ex-boss. JB powered the handset off with a long, hard push of his finger. So much for a career with the FBI.
Sadie joined him by the window, and he draped his arm across his ex-mother-in-law’s shoulders, pulling her into his hold. She’d kept him up-to-date on Marcy for the past few years. Never asking why they were apart. Then after the divorce, Sadie’d still dropped him a note every so often.
“How you doing, Sadie?” He owed her an explanation. But how would he explain that the suitcase on the porch that last night before he’d left town had been an echo from the past that he couldn’t handle?
She leaned on him for a moment, then straightened and blinked her eyes to clear the tears. When a couple trickled down her cheek, she brushed them away as if daring anyone to say they existed. “This nurse needs to talk to you.”
“Okay.” He looped his thumbs in his back pockets. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”
The woman in scrubs placed the papers on the side table then held the pen in front of him, impatience etched across her face. “Dr. Crowley wants these forms signed by the next of kin before we operate on Marcy Bradley.”
He stepped back. Waved his hands in front of the paperwork. “You got the wrong person here. Her next of kin is her mama. Marcy divorced me a long time ago. Besides, she didn’t look bad enough that she can’t sign.”
She’d always wilted at the sight of someone else’s blood. Especially his. Evidently, his fleshy bullet wound had been enough to cause her to faint earlier. Sure, hers needed to be explored, cleaned, and sutured, but there hadn’t been enough blood for the injuries to be life-threatening.
Clearly irritated, the nurse slammed the pen to the table and headed out the door. “Dr. Crowley said one of you had better have signed that form by the time Ms. Bradley’s ready to roll into that operating room.”
He held the pen out to Sadie, but she shook her head.
Marcy’s older sister Betsy, the spitting image of their mama—tall, thin, and red-haired—charged into the room and into the conversation with the ferocity of a caged lion. “So what I heard is right. You sorry excuse for a man aren’t back in town half an hour before you get yourself shot again.”
“There was a robbery.” Sadie reached for her daughter’s arm. “He saved Marcy from being hurt worse than she is.”
“That still doesn’t give him the right to be signing any papers for her.” Betsy grabbed the pen, but her mother took it from her.
“I really doubt anyone needs to sign those papers. Marcy wasn’t hurt so bad she can’t give permission.”
With the air of authority, Dr. Crowley entered his office, gently nudging the women aside as he lumbered firmly to the table. “While you three are arguing, there’s a woman down the hall heading to the operating room. Now sign the forms, JB.”
“I signed the papers.” Sadie held the form out to him.
Dr. Crowley glanced at JB, then narrowed his focus on Sadie. “This the way you want it?”
She nodded her head.
Dr. Crowley blew out a long, loud sigh. “You do realize I’m the deacon in the church you sometimes favor us by attending, don’t you?”
Sadie straightened, staring him down. “Yes, I do. And as such, it is your responsibility to do what is in the best interest of your congregation.”
“You and your daughters will be the death of me yet, Sadie.”
“Don’t include me in this.” Betsy shook her head as she rested her hands on her hips. Then, she turned her face toward JB. “And you can just pack up and leave anytime.”
“Not now, Betsy.” JB held his hand up to stop her words. Inside, his control churned hard and fast to be free. She must have felt it, because she shut up. He straightened, easing back. “And not until your sister’s well, either.”
He wondered what the hell had just transpired with the doctor, but some things weren’t his business. One thing for sure, though, he didn’t plan to leave town until the robbery and shooting were well on their way to being solved. Even if it meant staying around longer than he’d planned.
That would give him time to consider which job to take next. The police department he’d applied to in Texas? Or the covert ops he’d been asked to be a part of a few months back? Both thought he was good enough. Both wanted him. And both locations would keep him away from Crayton…and the only woman who’d ever made him smile morning and night.
Only she hadn’t been strong enough to let go of her father’s death and face the fact JB’s job would always be in law enforcement. Too bad they hadn’t realized the fact before they were married. Would have saved a lot of heartbreak on both sides.
“Where’s Marcy?” he asked.
The doctor grabbed the forms and headed down the hall. “They should be rolling her into surgery about now.”
JB charged past him. Past the nurses’ station. Past Truman, Marcy’s stepfather. Past a waiting room full of familiar faces. He had to see Marcy, touch her. Later, if she didn’t remember him being there, that would be okay. He’d know. He could live with knowing. She might not be his wife, but keeping her alive and well was his top priority the next few days.
A gurney edged out of her hospital room.
“Hold up!” JB shouted to the orderly.
Grasping her hand, his breaths came ragged—and not from the short sprint down the hall—as he stroked wisps of hair from her forehead. Damn, even the antiseptic smell of the hospital couldn’t cover the remembered scent of her jasmine shampoo.
He leaned in close. “How you doing, sugar?”
“I’m cold.” Her eyes fluttered open. “It hurts. A lot.”
“Doc Crowley’s going to fix that.”
The orderly tried to move the gurney forward, but JB braced it in place with his body. His lips brushed her temple. “Oh, Marcy. Marcy, Marcy, Marcy.”
“JB.” She opened her eyes full force. “Why’d you leave?”
Give her the truth. Tell her how much her words made you feel you weren’t good enough for her. How you couldn’t stand to see her frightened for you every day you left for work as a lawman. Or that you needed to prove something to yourself.
No. This wasn’t the time or place. Maybe it never would be.
“Because you let me go.” He swallowed hard then brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Don’t forget you’re the one who locked me out.”
Her eyes closed and her breathing weakened.
“Why’d you send the divorce papers?” He needed her answer. Needed to know what or who had taken his place.
“I figured you’d get mad and come back…and we’d be like before.” She loosened the hold on his hand. “Didn’t work. You never came back.”
Like before? They’d been young and naive. Not anymore. He’d developed an edge that went with the job. One she’d never be able to understand. And her? From the letters Sadie sent him, Marcy had regrouped and moved forward. But she’d still never left Crayton except to go to college.
Like before? Nothing could ever be like before.
A nursed opened the doors to surgery, and the orderly pushed Marcy into the cool hallway. The doors slowly closed back into place.
He braced his head against the doorframe. A whole lot had happened in the last eight hours since he drove back in to Crayton. One hell of a lot.
Sadie touched his shoulder. “You two could try again.”
“It’s not that simple. Marcy couldn’t stand the thought I might be killed on the job like her dad. It tore her apart every time I got hurt.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Can you honestly tell me she’s gotten past that in the past few years?”
“She was only eight. A thing like that sticks with a kid.”
“Hell, do you think my childhood was a damn picnic? Not hardly. Doesn’t mean I didn’t have to grow up and stop making excuses long enough to move forward.” JB quirked the side of his mouth with a sarcastic grin. “Or in my case, move out of town.”
Sadie set her hands on her hips, a mirror of Betsy earlier. “So move back.”
“I’m sorry, Sadie, but that’s not even on my radar.” JB shook his head and headed for the waiting room. There was no way to explain to anyone how much he needed the excitement of the chase and apprehension that went along with his career. He was good at what he had become—a loner who got the job done. Sure there were times he ended up in a bad situation, but he always found a way out. Worked smarter the next time. Got stronger.
Did he think he was invincible? Hell, no. But he knew he’d fight to the end. The day he finally went down and didn’t get back up, no one would say he hadn’t given everything he had. No big deal. That was the risk he faced every day.
After all, what good was life without a little risk?