Chapter Twenty-one
Marcy woke to the scent of her well-satisfied husband and cuddled closer against his chest. They’d spent the afternoon in bed, getting to know each other again and again. The clock on the nightstand read 4:00 p.m. “You awake?”
“Yep.” He tilted her face up and tweaked her nose. “I thought you’d be too worn out to wake up anytime soon.”
“I think I need some food.” The cold eggs and biscuits they’d eaten a few hours ago had long since worn off. Her stomach rumbled for more now that her body was happy. Pleasured and happy. “I love you, JB Bradley.”
“And I love you, too, sugar.”
She’d never tire of those words. “How about I make some dinner?”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll just lay here like a man of leisure.” He grinned. “In fact, I’d like my meal served in bed.”
She dressed, tossing his jeans at him. “You’ve been served in bed all day. Now get up and move the chest from in front of the door, so I can get to the kitchen.”
Not bothering with the pants, he jumped up and shoved the chest aside. “Think I’ll take a quick shower. Where’s your gun?”
Oops. He would not like her answer. Even she didn’t like her answer.
“I laid it by the front door when I went to save you.” She scurried out the bedroom door.
His look said he wasn’t happy with that answer. “Where?”
“Under the sofa cushion. Don’t worry. I’m getting it right now.” She pulled the Glock out and checked the load. Years ago, JB had drilled into her mind how to handle a gun. Right now, she was thankful he had. Ever since the sun came up, she’d felt safe. She could see anything headed her way. Night time would be different, and dusk was settling in.
JB glanced around the doorframe. “Don’t go outside.”
“I won’t.” She double-checked closing the curtains in the kitchen and the shutters in the living room before she pulled out the first pan. Her cooking skills in her own home weren’t bad, but here might be a different story.
The sound of JB’s cell phone echoed from the bedroom. Good news? Maybe it meant good news. Maybe she should answer. After all, he was in the shower. The ringing stopped, but no voice mail beep sounded. The sound of running water ended a couple minutes later. His phone rang again, and she walked to the open doorway to the bedroom. He slammed out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips.
“Yeah? Tell me you got him.” The look on JB’s face clenched with tension from the response on the other end. “Then why did you call?”
She heard the sizzle of the hamburger in the skillet and returned to the stove. Straining to hear the conversation, she couldn’t make out anything but a few ‘okay’s before JB closed the bedroom door.
Willing the bedroom door to open, she stirred the meat till it browned. What was wrong? He wouldn’t close the door unless something had happened. After flicking off the stove, she crept to the bedroom door, placed her ear against the wood. Nothing. Had he gone into the bathroom with the phone? Things would really be bad if he went to that extreme to keep her from hearing. She gripped the doorknob and turned—it didn’t turn. She tried again, jiggled the handle. Locked.
A chill chased down her spine. But she mustn’t panic. She leaned against the wall, hands clasped in front of her, eyes focused on the door. She swayed, bumping her hip on the wall to center her thoughts.
“Please open the door,” she whispered. “Please let everything be okay.”
Earlier had been wonderful. Love and sex and rekindling. That’s what she wanted, how she wanted to live. No danger to him. No being so weak on her part that he had to shut her out in order for them to have a chance at being together. All she wanted was for them to close the door and live their life free of the outside world.
She felt the panic rising in her throat. The tightening of her chest. A sticky feeling lingered just below her skin. Breathe…exhale, breathe…exhale. She’d let herself believe everything had changed, that she could face whatever the future held as long as JB was part of that future. But what if she couldn’t? What if the old insecurities came back?
Didn’t matter. That would be then. This was now, and she needed to focus on keeping them alive. Her and JB’s future would take care of itself. Right now he needed her to be strong.
“Breath,” she said to herself. “Just breathe.”
Even if they survived what was to come, this afternoon might be all they ever had.
…
JB tucked the towel around his body and raced for his phone. Caller ID showed Patrolman Kennett, and he flicked the button to on. “Yeah? Tell me you got him.”
“Afraid not.” The rookie sounded hoarse. Professional. Hard.
“Then why’d you call?” He searched his mind for what could possibly cause their non-communication plan to be broke. His mind’s eye saw Marcy at the door. The moment she walked away, he closed the door and set the lock. Knowing her, she’d listen from the other side, so he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. His knees bent as he slid to the floor and settled, his back braced against the wood.
Kennett cleared his throat. “Sheriff Davis was following up on a lead this morning when Leon rammed him. Shoved him and his cruiser off the road.”
Shoved? He braced for the worst. “Where?”
“Tourist lookout number one at the lake. A lead had been called in on a cell. Something about a suspicious hitchhiker.”
He cringed. Once you went over the edge, that hill went straight down. What had he brought to this town? “How’s the sheriff?”
“He’s been airlifted to the medical center in Jefferson City.” Kennett sucked in air and blew out hard. “They’ve got him in ICU. He’s in bad shape. Probably gonna lose a leg. Lucky he’s even alive.”
Jumping to his feet, JB stared in the mirror and tried to wrap his mind around the questions rattling through his mind. “Tell me everything you know.”
“Leon’s body was found in the dump truck that pushed the sheriff over the edge. Deputy Evans thinks he got all doped up, and once he realized what he’d done, he shot himself.” Kennett paused. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“The cab of the truck looked like a scene from police 101. You know…gun angle, bullet casing, body position…everything seemed too perfect. And if you’re about to do something that could land you in jail again, why would you settle up your bill at the hardware store yesterday? Tell the bank to get a payoff balance on your house ready for tomorrow? Wait. I need to take this other call.” Kennett put JB on hold.
The sheriff must have been getting too close. Might not have even known how close. Leon was a perfect patsy for whoever was actually behind the Sheriff’s accident. Stroke his ego. Give him a wad of money. The guy would do anything. Especially if you threw in some uppers. And maybe, just maybe, Leon had seen something the day of the bank robbery.
Kennett clicked back in. “You’re not gonna like this.”
“Tell me.” He concentrated on the words, letting them fall into pockets of his mind like a sorting machine.
“One of the docs called from the medical center. Thought we should know Sheriff Davis is still incoherent but keeps rambling about his phone. Says he gets real agitated when he does. Seems to fight someone.”
JB tensed as he peered out the small bathroom window. “See if Evans took the phone from the scene…”
“I just called. He didn’t.” Kennett’s voice lowered. “In fact, he said the sheriff’s coat pocket where he kept the private phone was ripped clean off. Hang up, and use the phone I gave you.”
JB hung up. Jabbed the phone into the off position. Damnittohell. The perp had the phone. Could have a header on where they were from the few minutes of conversation he just had.
Wouldn’t take the guy long to track down the secure number on the new phone. Simple elimination. The way the guy operated technically, he might have a trace on every number listed just waiting for the right voice to pick up. JB’s voice.
Before they’d left Crayton, Sheriff Davis told him he’d nickname JB the Veterinarian in his contact list. Should slow the process. Maybe the creep wouldn’t verify all the numbers. Even if he did, still might take the guy until morning to zone which number was which.
JB needed to stay off the secure phone, which sure as hell wasn’t secure anymore. Or maybe he should us it…lure the guy right to them on their own terms. Either way wasn’t good. Keep the phone, the perp would come for sure. At this point, he put nothing past the man, because no matter what, he would still find a way to come. This guy didn’t plan on stopping.
Time to take a stand. JB’d keep the phone. Set his own trap. Wait for the man to show his face.
The disposable phone Kennett gave him before they left Crayton rang.
“I got lost in thought.” JB said.
“What do you want me to do?” Kennett said.
“I’m formulating a way to lure the guy in. As soon as I do, I’ll call you back on this line.” JB figured the best trail right now would be the files at the police station. “Other than that, check the sheriff’s office, and see what he’s been reading. What’s odd in the reports? Coincidental? Out of place?”
“Should I let Deputy Evans know what I’m doing?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” JB realized he was asking the man to keep something from his own boss. “All I got right now are you and Cain. That’s all I want.”
Silence on the line meant Kennett was thinking about the request. “You know this could mean my job.”
“Yep.” If the rookie said no, then no it would be.
“Why?” Kennett said. “Why not tell Evans? Don’t you trust him?”
“I trust him. He knows where I am. May even know the number if the sheriff gave it to him. But Evans has a family. He needs to walk in their door every night, not be lying at the bottom of a cliff like Sheriff Davis. Besides, it sounds like Crayton’s gonna need him big time for a while.” JB looked in the mirror again and shook his head. “We’re facing a killer now. A pro.”
“The sheriff had to be on to something big to nearly get him killed.”
JB opened the bathroom door and checked outside the two shuttered bedroom windows. Marcy had to be livid on the other side of the locked door. “Makes sense. Why else would someone bother to run him over the cliff? Take his phone? Hire Leon to do the dirty work, then kill him?”
“Got it.”
“The sheriff had to be real close.” JB unlocked the bedroom door. “See what you can find out. Call me back.”
…
Marcy stood at the counter buttering warmed-up biscuits when JB stepped out of the bedroom. He made the rounds of all the windows. Rechecked the locks.
“JB?” She tensed. The atmosphere had changed.
With a grunt for response, he braced the door on the second bedroom closed with a chair under the handle. The hardness in his expression said something was wrong. But as long as they were together, she felt safe. Secure in the cocoon of the cabin.
A Kevlar vest covered JB’s cold-weather thermals again. Boots were full-laced and double knotted. Shoulder holster strapped in place. He carried the Glock in his hands as he made the rounds. When he turned, she saw a backup gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans. He was in FBI mode. Might not be part of the Bureau any more, but he was still tough—no-nonsense Special Agent Jean Bradley tough.
Her afternoon lover was nowhere to be found. Instead, her protector braced himself for battle. She couldn’t stop the nerves making a race track of her body or the quiver of hair on the back of her neck. But she’d stay strong for him.
She sat two plates of hamburger hash and biscuits on the table, then touched his shoulder as he finished putting a metal cookie sheet behind the window curtains above the kitchen sink. The only other window minus louvered shutters was in the master bath.
“What’s wrong, JB?”
He folded her in his arms. Held her close. She closed her eyes and braced for whatever he had to tell her.
“There’s been an accident.” His arms didn’t let her move. “Your uncle’s in ICU and Leon’s dead.”
A squeak of a cry caught in her throat a moment before she turned her face up to his. She jerked with the sobs caught in the same place. “Will he live?”
“They’re not sure.” He knew how close the nieces were to their uncle. Sheriff Davis had been their one constant in life besides Sadie and Truman. “I’m sorry, sugar. I’m sorry.”
She laid her cheek against his chest. “What else?”
“I think the sheriff got close. Too close to whoever’s after us.”
“Leon?”
“No. He was just a cog in the wheel.” JB smoothed her hair. Not the sexy tangle of before, but a heavy, protective slide of his fingers. “You might as well know the perp’s got your uncle’s phone.”
She didn’t understand phones and GPS and tracking, but her insides triggered a flash of warning. “He’ll be able to find us, right?”
“If my phone’s turned on, he can likely trace it. May have already.” JB let her lean back, looking her in the eye. “You might as well know, I’ve decided to leave the phone on.”
“Can’t we run again?” There had to be another way. More time. She wasn’t ready for this to end. She might not be able to face a life with him as a lawman, but she needed more time to make the memories she’d hold on to once this was over. “We could find another cabin and…and…”
“Could. But we won’t.” He scanned her face with his stare, as if making a photo negative for future use. “This ends here. On our terms. Okay?”
What would he say if she said no? Said she wanted to keep on running forever just to be with him? Said she’d give herself up for him to live another day? What would he say?
She straightened her back. Swallowed her fear. No, they weren’t going to run any more. JB was right. Better to confront the attacker on your own ground. They wouldn’t let the man chase them like they were the criminals. Like they were animals waiting for his pot-shot.
“Okay.” People might think she was a flutter in the breeze, but she could stand her ground when push came to shove. JB needed her help, so he could work to keep them both alive. “Do you have a plan?”