Play Time
Lucky backed his newly purchased Ford out of the parking space at the front of the Canton County morgue, maneuvered his way out to the street, and then turned left and headed toward the millhouse. Claire Morgan was slumped unconscious in the passenger’s seat beside him, and Junior’s soon-to-be-dead daddy was sprawled across the back seat. The animal tranquilizer had acted fast, but that’s why they’d chosen it. He really hadn’t meant to shoot them until after Jonesy identified his daughter’s body, but he could not resist the temptation. It had been the perfect time and place. Nobody around. No cars on the street. No witnesses, whatsoever. Nobody knew what time they’d arrived, or if they had arrived at all. There were no windows at the front of the morgue, just the front door, which had no windows. No traffic passing by on such a cold and snowy afternoon, and it was soon to be dark. Anything could have gone wrong inside with the medical examiner and his staff, so he had acted on impulse. But he had always been good at choosing the right move at the right time. Yep, good timing was everything, and he had developed a real knack for it. Always had it, really. Rarely had it turned out to be an ill-conceived action for him.
Reaching over, he pulled the tough and suspicious detective over toward him and down below the window where nobody would spot her. He reached over again and got the Glock still in her hand. She had gotten to it fast, but not fast enough. She had not come out the winner this time around, but he had no doubt she’d shoot him point-blank if she came to with a weapon in her hand. She was a worthy adversary, and he had better remember that.
Lucky drove until he reached the gravel road that led out into the woods. He laughed softly when he took the turn. “Man alive, this is just going great. Junior is going to be pleased as punch, all right. His daddy and the detective, both in one fell swoop.” Awesome, man, he was awesome.
He couldn’t blame Claire for being so gullible. It wasn’t her fault. It was Sheriff Charles Ramsay’s fault. Everything Lucky had given him had looked legitimate, but was only an illusion. Special Agent Bob Brady was a real FBI agent, oh yeah, he sure was, one that had been hot on their trail. That is, until about a week ago when they’d caught him sneaking around the mill. They had captured him easily enough, then they’d put him through their own special kind of ringer until he spilled his guts and told them everything they needed to know about his case against them.
Lucky smiled to himself. Brady had been investigating them for years, alerted to Heather Jax’s death by the dog tag found inside her. He had been suspicious of Junior and Lucky both, but Lucky had been his main target. He’d left his thick FBI file on Lucky’s homicidal childhood inside the trunk of his car, labeled with his real name, Troy Edward Wood. It had been a godsend for their plans, and Lucky had jumped at the chance to impersonate him.
All Lucky had to do was don the badge and show up at Ramsay’s office with that extremely incriminating file. Lucky chose only the photographs that did not look like him and destroyed the others. He didn’t look the same anymore, anyway: he was bigger and buffer and his hair was dark, but he still didn’t take that chance. He told the sheriff the truth, albeit Bob Brady’s story of chasing two murderers across the country. Lucky was in on the case against him and Junior. It was the most delicious ruse that he’d ever played, and he’d played a lot. He was a good actor and a good liar and could fool the best of them.
Claire Morgan had been suspicious at first, more so than most of his rubes had been in the past, he’d give her that, but she’d had no recourse but to work with him. She’d been ordered to. When he’d run down her partner in front of Games Galore, he hadn’t realized what a serendipitous snap decision it would turn out to be. He had wanted to kill his big brother, Oliver, who was also out to get him for killing their mother. Oliver got away; he hadn’t seen him since. It worried him, but not too much. They wouldn’t hang around long after they killed Jonesy and the detective.
Best of all? He now had Claire Morgan at his disposal, to do with whatever he wanted. She was going to be a fun captive. She would not bend easily, and those were the kinds of victims he liked best. In just a little while, she was going to be very sorry she’d gone after Junior and him so hard. Sorry she’d trusted a false Bob Brady, too. He had looked forward to having her under his control since the first minute he’d seen her photograph in that tabloid.
And Lucky was going to have her to himself, because Junior would only have eyes for his daddy. Both of them were in for a special treat today. Claire Morgan and Jonesy Jax. Two prime catches, both well-known and notorious. Real notches on his belt. He was still grinning when he turned and drove up the deserted gravel road that led to their millhouse lair. He could barely wait for the moment their two newest victims would wake up and find out what hot water they were in. Wow, the things they were going to do with these two poor souls. Lucky got shivers all over, just thinking about the hours of fun he was about to enjoy.