“No.” Her hands were folded in her lap, head against the rest and turned toward the nature show flashing by. “It’s pretty.”
From the rearview mirror, Jake watched Christopher thumbing through the same book since they left the gas station. Attempts at small talk with the kid were futile. Attempts with his mother weren’t much better. She wouldn’t discuss anything concerning her husband in the kid’s presence, which made sense, but even getting more than five words on any other subject was like squeezing blood out of a rock. Jake guessed she had a lot on her mind.
The town of Warsaw, Missouri popped into view as they rounded a bend. A Casey’s General Store on the right and the Dam Restaurant & Lounge on his left, plopped atop a limestone bluff at the end of a slender, suspended bridge the locals called The Swinging Bridge. Jake turned right past Casey’s and pulled up the hill into Warsaw’s abbreviated downtown.
“Not much here, is there?” Angela sat tall in her seat and scanned the antique shops, greasy spoons, and local watering holes adorned with neon beer signs.
“Depends on what you’re looking for,” Jake said.
“A place to hide.”
“Then this is the place to be.”
She leaned forward as they came to a stop sign. The county courthouse and jail edged a broad expanse of grass with a massive oak tree set dead in the middle. Christopher managed to peel his attention from his book and inspect his surroundings, his tiny eyebrows raised in curiosity.
“How’d you find this place?” she asked.
“I grew up here. Long time ago. I take it you didn’t do the small-town thing?”
She shook her head as he accelerated from the stop sign and came to rows of modest houses, some well-maintained, others not so much. “I’m a city girl from Chicago. Twenty-five hundred kids in my high school.”
“Hell, that’s bigger than the whole town here. But, it’s a perfect place to lay low until you figure out what you want to do.”
They passed the houses and turned right, hitting another short stretch of businesses as they headed toward Jake and Bear’s cabin. A couple of liquor stores, a gas station, a desolate strip mall, and a Pizza Hut faded into the rearview mirror as Jake headed south on Highway 65 for a fleeting stretch. He pulled off at the White Branch exit and sped along Wildcat Drive through a stretch of sweeping curves for a few miles before hanging left at Poor Boy Road.
He slowed, pointing to his left. “There’s the house I grew up in.”
A forest-green ranch filtered through the trees. Jake and Bear painted the house last month to get it ready to put on the market. After Jake’s father died, Jake tried living there for several months, but there were too many bad memories. Since he and Maggie were getting married and his sister wouldn’t move in from town, there wasn’t much point keeping it.
“We staying there?” Angela asked.
“No. We’re going to get you even more off the grid. Got a cabin deep in the woods. You’ll be safe there.”
Jake drove for a few more miles on shoulderless asphalt before wheeling right and bouncing along gravel-covered ruts. Blue sky towered above before disappearing behind the twisted arms of old maples and oaks, battling for position on either side of the road. In the back, Christopher abandoned the book when the daylight disappeared and white-knuckled the sides of his booster seat.
“We’re almost there, buddy,” Jake said. “I think you’ll like it.”
Christopher didn’t appear convinced. Neither did Angela judging from her wringing hands and narrowed-eyed scrutiny.
They rolled around a sharp bend, and a large pond spilled before them, blanketed by shadows from the surrounding trees. A single-story wood cabin snuggled against the trees fifty yards across the water, its windows dark. Jake skirted the edge of the pond, following the road as it wound toward the structure.
“There it is. It’s about ninety percent done. My buddy Bear and I use it as a getaway spot. Still needs a few finishing touches, but it’ll take good care of you and Christopher for a few days.”
“Is this the only road in?” she asked.
“Pretty much. There’s a trail winding out the backside for a mile or so, but nothing you could take a car or truck down. There’s a four-wheeler in the shed if you wanted to get adventurous. You ever ridden one?”
“On the back of one once, in Mexico with my husband.”
“Well, it gets pretty rough back there. Maybe you should skip it.”
They slowed to a stop in front of the cabin and climbed out. Angela helped Christopher out of the back, and they stopped at the head of a fifty-foot trail leading to the pond. Crickets chirped and a bullfrog emitted its rhythmic, two-toned bellow from the far end of the water. A cool breeze rustled the leaves overhead. Christopher gripped his mother’s hand and scanned the area, mouth ajar.
“It’s so peaceful,” she whispered.
“That’s why we built here. A great place to get away from it all. Come on. I’ll show you the inside and let you get settled in.”
Jake unlocked the front door and led the way into an open sitting area equipped with a couch, a couple of old recliners and a forty-inch television sitting on the floor. The smell of fresh cut wood lingered over the sharp odors of fresh paint and stain. To the right nestled a kitchen with a round table surrounded by three wood chairs. Jake carried their suitcases to one of two bedrooms in the back and flipped the switch on the community bathroom.
“TV works, but you won’t get a ton of channels as we haven’t gotten around to getting a satellite dish yet. Sorry it’s sitting on the floor, but the guy who was supposed to build my shelves seems to want to hang out at the bar more than here. There’s a DVD player in the closet with a few movies, but nothing appropriate for little man.”
“He has his favorites in his suitcase.” She drifted through the cabin, fingers sliding along the furniture and walls as if to get the feel of the place. “We’ll be fine. Is your friend good with us staying here?”
“Bear? Yeah, I already talked to him. There’s enough food here for tonight, but I’ll run into town and get you more.”
“I’ll go with you,” she said.
Jake waved her off. “Nope. You’re here to stay out-of-sight until you figure out what you want to do. We’re not flashing your face in public more than necessary.”
Christopher meandered to the front window and pressed his little hands and nose against the pane, staring out to the pond. The weight of the world seemed to sink the kid into the floor. Jake could relate and wondered how much they had in common in their upbringing.
Jake grabbed his keys. “I’m going to head to my house and check in. I’ll run to town to get you some supplies and a burner phone so you can get ahold of me or Bear at any time. But, when I get back, we talk. Christopher? You don’t have to worry. You’re safe.”
The boy slow-turned his head, his eyes hard. He said nothing but conveyed the sentiment he didn’t believe Jake any more than he could throw him.
Chapter Twelve
The Wolf rolled through the one-way streets of downtown Kansas City, fighting the flow of traffic as commuters made their way home. The parking garage northwest of the Sprint Center filled with patrons heading to the Power & Light District, an entertainment hub of bars and restaurants that would soon be packed with rabid wrestling fans. The WWE would fill the fifteen-thousand-seat Sprint Center with crazies who would shell out good money to watch a bunch of over-muscled actors throw each other around the ring. He didn’t understand the attraction.
He parked in a corner slot close to a stairwell and dropped to the street. Weaving his way through two blocks of crowded sidewalks, he dipped into Renfro’s, an upscale steakhouse, and made his way past the tables toward the restrooms. A staircase guarded by a door marked “Private” led to a twenty-by-twenty room with blood-red walls and abstract framed artwork. A man in a dark pinstripe suit thumbed through photographs at the end of a long table. His thick silver eyebrows furrowed lines across his well-tanned fo
rehead, dark scalp appearing through spiked grey hair. His eyes focused on the pictures as the Wolf parked at the far end of the table.
“You’re late,” the man said in Russian, his voice deep and rich.
“Traffic,” the Wolf replied.
The man set the photos on the table and motioned for the Wolf to sit. He plucked a wine glass from the table and aerated the amber liquid inside with a well-practiced swirl.
“You want a drink?” he asked the Wolf who declined with a wave of the hand. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”
“Nearly twenty years, Demetri. How long have you been in the States?”
Demetri rolled his head to the side and his neck cracked. He took a sip of wine and placed the glass back on the table with delicate precision. “The Director is most displeased with you. You shouldn’t have killed Marta, much less left her in an alley like a bag of garbage.”
The Wolf shrugged. “It was a judgment call.”
“A stupid call. The Director was fond of Marta.”
“She was compromised and helped Sokolov.”
Demetri scratched the surface of the table with a long nail. “You know what will happen if he succeeds with his plan, don’t you?”
“He’s already succeeded with his plan. Three deaths due to the Blackbird. There will be more.”
“Did you stop to consider Marta might be working with us to stop him?”
“Was she?”
“The point is you didn’t stop to think if the possibility existed. You’re getting reckless and it is causing us great concern.”
The Wolf slumped back in the chair. “You didn’t answer my question, Demetri.”
“The Director—”
“The Director wasn’t there. The Director didn’t look into that lying bitch’s eyes and didn’t see what I saw. She gave me Sokolov’s location but would have warned him if I let her go. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Yet he is still out there. Which brings me to today. Why are we meeting?”
The Wolf rested his arms on the table. “I’m dismantling Sokolov’s network to stop this plan. I haven’t cut the head off the snake, but I’m working my way up.”
“So?”
“I want an assurance I’m still a desired asset of the Director. I don’t want to look over my shoulder for someone there to take me out.”
Demetri grabbed the wine glass by the stem and drained the contents. “You’re standing with the Director is tenuous, but good. Stop Sokolov and it will be solid. Screw up again and we’ll have a problem. A most unhealthy problem for you.”
* * *
Jake ran into Bear as he exited the Country Mart on Main Street with a single bagful of groceries, which cost a mysterious thirty-five dollars, and a burner cell phone from a near empty electronics repair store a couple of doors away. Bear’s tan police cruiser idled next to Jake’s red truck.
“Got anything in there for me?” Bear tossed his cell on the empty passenger seat.
“Like you need it.” Jake set the bag in his truck and leaned in Bear’s window. “You get any wider and we’ll have to install a double-wide door on the cabin to get your fat ass in.”
Bear blew out. “Who’s gonna do it? Your brilliant, drunk carpenter now sitting in my jail cells?”
“You jailed him?”
“He wrapped his truck around a tree. Plus, he blew a .23 after he was passed out for God knows how long. Didn’t leave me much of a choice. Where’s your guests?”
“At the cabin. Getting some groceries for them. Also nabbed her a burner phone.”
Bear cocked his bearded head. “What for?”
“Seems her husband is a bit of an asshole. Kid is scared as hell of him.”
“But you don’t know who he is?”
Jake drummed his fingers on Bear’s door. “Not a clue. Yet. We haven’t had the chance for an in-depth conversation. I don’t like running blind. Could be a whole hornet’s nest I’m stomping through and don’t even know it yet.”
“Shoulda thought of that before you ventured down the road with her.”
“Guess I’m a sucker for hard cases.”
Bear reached across the seat and grabbed a folder. He thumbed through a few pages, picked out a picture and handed it to Jake. “Speaking of hard cases, you know this kid?”
Jake studied the picture. Teenager, maybe sixteen or seventeen, long hair, acne-scarred cheeks and blank, dark eyes. “Doesn’t look familiar.”
“Name’s Peter Pickering. Allegedly flashed a .38 revolver at the high school at some jock who was giving him shit. My deputies are out searching for him but keep rolling snake eyes. Thought you might have a clue.”
Jake passed the picture back to him. “I don’t know, but Halle might. Follow me out to the house and we can talk to her. Want to come to the cabin and meet my mystery woman and her kid?”
“Let’s see what your daughter says first. Not sure how close I want to get to your little endeavor anyway. Got an election coming up.”
“Worried about it?”
“Of course. It’s politics, man. I fart the wrong way and Dick Blackwell will make an attack ad out of it that I’m single-handedly destroying the ozone layer.”
Jake smirked. “Don’t let the media hear you call him Dick.”
“I don’t give a damn if they do. It happens to be his name.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jake wound his way south through the dancing shadows projected across the highway asphalt by the setting sun. He turned left on Poor Boy road, traveled past his old man’s house, and up the tree-lined gravel drive of Maggie’s place. Bear parked behind him, and they approached the front door in tandem. Jake’s fiancée slipped to the front door and pushed open the screen. Her long legs clad in tight blue jeans under a Kansas City Chiefs t-shirt. The spicy smell of something cooking wafted through the front door. Jake wasn’t sure if it was her delectable appearance or the dish that jumped his salivary glands into overtime.
“It’s pretty sad I’ve seen Bear more than you in the last two weeks, sweetheart,” she said.
Jake climbed three concrete steps and planted a long, firm kiss on her supple lips. “Bear doesn’t greet you like that, does he?”
“Only when your skinny ass isn’t around,” Bear said. “Get out of the way, Caldwell. Something smells amazing in there.”
“Jambalaya,” Maggie announced as she stepped to the side and let the two men pass. The muted nightly news played on a flat screen in the corner of the living room adjacent to a long beige couch and a coffee table covered in unaddressed wedding invitations. Jake and Bear headed to the kitchen, which offered a refrigerator full of beer and the pot on the stove simmering with goodness. Jake grabbed three beers and handed them out to Bear and Maggie.
“Hey, Dad,” a voice chimed from behind. Halle emerged from the hallway leading back to the bedrooms. She embraced Jake in a tight squeeze. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too, little girl,” Jake said even though there was nothing little about Halle anymore. At five foot three inches, her long blonde head nestled in the middle of Jake’s chest, her grip tight from strong, athletic arms. “How’s school?”
“Being a senior doesn’t suck.” She let him go and settled on a bar stool surrounding the kitchen island. “Chemistry blows, but the rest of the classes seem to be going all right. You back for a while?”
Jake shifted. “Kind of.”
Lines creased Maggie’s otherwise perfect brow. “What exactly does ‘kind of’ mean?”
“Scored a short-term gig for some ridiculous money. Nothing dangerous. Babysitting a woman and her kid while she tries to figure out how to get away from her cuckoo husband.”
Bear wandered to the stove and grabbed a bowl from a cabinet, spooning a helping of steaming rice mixed with chicken and sausage. He stirred off the steam from the bowl, eyes locked on Jake and Maggie with his eyebrows raised as if waiting to see if there would be a floor show with dinner.
“C
uckoo husband?” Maggie asked. “Care to elaborate?”
Jake pumped his shoulders and took a swig of beer. “Don’t know too much yet. She needed help and had a wad of cash big enough to choke a horse, so I took the job. Shouldn’t be more than a few days.”
Maggie’s eyes narrowed, her radar on full alert. His job had generated numerous discussions during the last several months. Between her and Halle getting kidnapped by local drug lord Shane Langston last year, and Jake and Bear’s adventure a few months ago with some toxic-poison-seeking terrorists, she’d had enough of the drama.
Bear read her body language. “I’ll keep an eye on him, Mags. Don’t worry.”
“Uh huh. Both of you are going to lie to me and tell me it’s not dangerous.”
“It’s not dangerous.” Jake pulled her close and kissed away the frown lines on her forehead. He turned to the stove and followed Bear’s lead with the jambalaya. “Besides, it’s enough money to pay for most of the wedding stuff.”
“Speaking of money.” Halle jumped and sat on the counter. “Lindsey and I wanted to run to Sedalia and go shopping this weekend. There’s a dance in a couple of weeks and thought we might get lucky and find some cheap dresses.”
“Who are you going with?” Jake asked. Halle thankfully dumped her popular baseball-player boyfriend a month ago—a cocky little shit. She could have told them she had a date with Freddy Krueger, and it would be an improvement.
“Billy Upton,” she said. “He’s in my College Algebra class.”
Bear dropped his chin indicating Billy was okay—the benefit of having the county sheriff as a best friend. He pretty much knew the good kids from the dirt bags.
Jake fished through his wallet. “Tell you what, you help Bear find this kid he’s looking for, and I’ll throw you fifty bucks to shop with.”
Halle’s brow crinkled in disgust. “Fifty? Dad, the shoes alone will cost more than fifty.”
“Make it a hundred. Beyond that, you’ll have to sew curtains yourself for the dress.”
Jake Caldwell Thrillers Page 57