Jake Caldwell Thrillers

by Weaver, James

  “Okay. Well, if they were smart, they’d hightail it out of the area,” Bear offered. “The search grid will start close and expand out. If I were him, I’d get as far from here as possible.”

  Jake cast his eyes sideways. “He could do that. Or he could hunker in familiar territory with people he trusts.”

  “That’s a possibility, too.”

  “Either way means no more peaceful sleep for us anytime soon.”

  Jake paced, needing to be in motion, his hands tightening into fists and loosening, the dark Ozark night full of mystery through the window. A late fall breeze rattled the leaves on the trees outside the house, carrying with them a somber warning. In the distance, lightning lit up a bank of southern clouds like fireflies in a bottle. Shane Langston was on the loose.

  It seemed forever ago the psychopath lay at Jake’s feet staring down the barrel of a Glock 19, Jake’s finger an ounce of trigger pressure from blowing out the back of his head. In the wee small hours of many mornings since, as Jake listened to the Warsaw house creak and watched the gentle rise and fall of Maggie’s chest in bed beside him, he wondered if he should have pulled the trigger. If he had, they wouldn’t be sitting here now, plagued by fear wondering what to do.

  Bear broke the silence. “What are you thinking, partner?”

  Maggie and Halle trembled on the couch at the prospective danger dropped in their lap, and Jake leaned his head against the front window and looked out into the night.

  His imagination train left the station, and an image of him standing over the grey-speckled tombstones of his girls flew through his mind. Jesus, he’d be so lost without them. He wasn’t sure he’d have the will to fight his way back. A shudder ripped through him.

  His eyes searched the darkness beyond the glow of the front porch light. Was Shane out there, watching them now? He was doubtful but wouldn’t bet his life on it. Should they hunker down at the house for the night or get the hell out of Dodge? There were pros and cons to each. He wasn’t a big fan of running without a plan. That’s when shit tended to go sideways and people got hurt. Though they’d be stationary targets if they stayed, Jake would have the home-court advantage, certain he could protect his family. If they left, his girls would be at risk in the dark and heading to an unknown and unsecure location.

  Jake downed the whiskey in a single slug before setting the glass on the coffee table. “Bear, first thing tomorrow, we get these two and your girls somewhere safe. Somewhere that psycho can’t get to them.”

  “Run and hide?” Halle asked. “Where? For how long?”

  Bear pumped his shoulders. “I don’t know, honey. As long as we think we need.”

  “You know anybody, Bear?” Jake asked. “Can’t be any of the local yokels here.”

  Bear raked his bottom teeth against his lip as his eyes searched the ceiling for the answer. “I think I know a couple of guys in Kansas City. You got some cash to help me throw their way?”

  “They good?”

  “One’s an ex-Navy Seal and the other was an Army Ranger. Shane’s tough, but these two would bury him without breaking a sweat.”

  Jake nodded. “Make the call. Tell them we’ll bring the girls in the morning.”

  Bear downed the rest of his drink. “Never a dull moment, is there, Caldwell? I’m going to fetch my two and bring them here. I’d feel better if everyone were all together with you watching over them.”

  “You’re leaving?” Maggie asked, shooting upright on the couch.

  Bear scratched his beard and offered a tight-lipped apology. “Sorry, Mags. I got a feeling this is gonna be an all-nighter. I need to check in with my team and the Warsaw cops. We have officers combing the area, Jeff City is doing the same, and we’ve notified every law enforcement agency in the country. Shit, the FBI will come knocking soon if they haven’t already since I’ve been gone. You know how much I like dealing with those assholes.”

  “Can you keep some guys in the area in case we need help?” Maggie asked.

  “I’ll do you one better. I’ll post a uniform at the front door, and Jake will be in here with you. We’ll keep you safe tonight. Don’t worry.”

  Maggie raised one eyebrow in a slant as she flicked her eyes between Jake and Bear. “Yeah, right. Nothing to worry about at all. Come on, Halle. Let’s get some things packed up.”

  Jake snagged his pistol from the bedroom and followed Bear out the front door to Bear’s truck. His childhood friend hoisted his massive form inside the cab and his meaty paws white-knuckled the steering wheel as Jake grabbed the frame of the open door.

  Bear dropped his head back against the seat, blowing an exaggerated stream of frustration to the roof of his truck. “You shoulda blown his fucking head off when you had the chance, Caldwell.”

  The image of Maggie and Halle’s tombstones flared again. “You don’t have to tell me that. If I get the chance, I’ll tell my conscience to take a long walk off a short pier.”

  Bear narrowed his eyes. “You think you can do it this time?”

  “If he comes within a mile of my family, I’ll peel the skin from his bones.”

  Jake shut the door, and Bear rolled down the driveway. Jake held his Sig Sauer at his side and sniffed the cool night air, absorbing the earthy tones of the land he loved, until Bear’s taillights blinked out in the distance. He scanned the dark woods all around him, potential danger waiting to spring from every shadow. Jake envisioned Shane charging from the darkness with a knife in hand and nodded at the prospect of emptying all twelve rounds of his magazine into Shane’s chest and head. Wishful thinking. Shane wouldn’t make it that easy.

  Jake had managed to carve out a life from the darkness of his past, a life full of promise, love and family. Shane Langston now threatened to take it all away. Shane was fortunate he’d caught Jake in a transitional period during their last encounter when the ghosts of Jake’s violent past caught up to his conscience. This time, the son of a bitch wouldn’t be so lucky.

  Chapter Two

  Shane Langston kicked the dead man at his feet before stepping over the bloodied mess to the closet. He yanked a white oxford from a hanger, assessing the size at arm’s length. This one had potential. He slipped his thick arms through the sleeves, working the buttons as he sauntered to the mirror. Rolling up the sleeves to mask their brevity, he slid his hands along the front, tugging on the fabric trying to stretch it. In the reflection he saw the woman on the bed across the room throw a forlorn gaze to the lump on the floor, her eyes dripping and snot rolling across the wrinkled rows of silver duct tape strapped across her mouth.

  “Ah, shit.” Langston groaned, noticing the blood dancing down the front of the shirt. He jerked his hands to the light and spotted the streak of crimson on the ridge of his right hand. He kicked the corpse one last time for good measure with the toe of the man’s steel-toed work boots. At least those fit.

  “You should have married a bigger man,” Langston called out as he returned to the bathroom to wash off the last of the blood. “Maybe you’ll have the chance to try again. I’d suggest someone less greedy than him next time.”

  Returning to the bedroom, Langston ripped open the oxford, sending the ivory buttons flying, and tossed the shirt on the pile with his orange prison jumpsuit. He opened dresser drawers, throwing clothes behind him like a dog digging a hole. Settling on a black hoodie to go with the boring grey sweatpants he found in the closet, he could at least pass through the streets without looking like a pumpkin.

  “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in whipping up something for us in the kitchen before we go? A little midnight snack?” Langston settled on the bed adjacent to the woman. She tried to sink into the headboard, straining against the ropes lashing her wrists to the posts. Her eyes shot to Grady hunkering in a shadow-bathed corner.

  Grady’s voice croaked from the darkness. “I could go for a Denver omelet.”

  The woman’s eyes filled with a new load of waterworks.

  Shane tapped her cheek wi
th the barrel of her husband’s gun. “No? Well, you’re lucky you’re ugly. I haven’t seen anyone in a dress that isn’t a man in months, but even I’m not that desperate.”

  Grady edged forward into the light, his face lean and hard, eyes lit and wired. “I am.”

  Shane shushed Grady before turning back to the woman. “I want you to remember this is your fault. All Barney wanted was a simple life. He talked about you all the time in the exercise yard. You wanted the nice house, the nice car, the jewelry. You wanted the world on a silver platter but wouldn’t do a thing to make it happen. You expected this schmuck to provide it all on a prison-guard’s salary while you sat on your fat, lazy ass drinking sherry with your girlfriends. He helped me out of that hellhole on the hopes of a payday to keep you happy. That’s why it’s your fault. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  The tears slid sideways as the woman jerked her head, her once fearful eyes narrowed with anger. Barney said she had a temper. Langston smacked her on the crown of her head with the barrel of the pistol, the impact slicing open her scalp, crimson trickling through sun-bleached hair.

  “I’m right, aren’t I, Lenora?” Langston repeated. When he raised the pistol again, the woman bobbed her bloody head with quick jerks. He hopped to his feet. “Now, I hate to beat your husband to death and run, but the police will make their way here before long, and I have a date with some friends back home.”

  Langston fired two rounds into Lenora’s anguished face, the shots ringing in his ears. He held the shooter’s pose, head cocked, admiring the pattern of splattered brains against the headboard, the macabre spread like a bouquet of flowers.

  “Man, why’d you have to do that?” Grady whined, jumping to his feet. Scraggly, grease-clumped hair hung low across his sunken cheeks. He bared his stained teeth before taking a slug from a bottle of Jack Daniels. “I was gonna have a little fun with her before we busted out. Ain’t had a woman in a decade.”

  “She’s still warm, Grady,” Shane said. “Do what you want to do. I’m going to load up the car.” Shane spun on his heels and headed to the garage. He wouldn’t be able to drive Lenora’s aged Lexus for long, but it would be enough to get him to Warsaw. He should leave Grady here to fend for himself. The guy was a wildcard and reeked like a rotting corpse. Not yet, though. He could provide firepower if things went sideways.

  Though he had a few pit stops to make, Shane’s skin itched with the need to get back home to the Lake of the Ozarks and Warsaw. Familiar turf with allies. The corners of his mouth stretched toward his ears as he thought of the ways he would make Jake Caldwell and Bear Parley pay for what they did to him.

  Chapter Three

  The morning sun filtered through oak trees, backlighting the October leaves, the once bright fall colors muted as they withered and died on the branches. Jake sipped a steaming cup of coffee from the porch, the mug providing a warm counterbalance to the brisk air. He yawned, shaking off the sleep pulling at his swollen eyelids and the goosebumps forming on his muscular biceps. It had been a long night at the window searching the dark, his Sig Sauer heavy in his hand as he prayed for nothing to happen other than his cell ringing with a call from Bear that they nailed Langston.

  “You should get some sleep,” Maggie said, sliding up behind him and wrapping her long arms across his chest.

  Jake set the gun on the end table and draped an arm over her shoulder. “Halle still out?”

  “Nah. She thrashed all night. I have a pretty good idea what she was dreaming about.”

  The psychologist finally got Halle to discuss her experience with Shane. If she talked to Jake and Maggie about it, she’d get a haunted, distant look and rub the spot on her leg where Shane had cut her to get information. The nights she woke up screaming grew sparse, but Jake would grind the enamel from his teeth as he watched Maggie clutch their daughter’s crying, sweat-soaked head. More than once, he’d considered working through his old mob boss, Jason Keats, to put a contract on Langston’s head. Wouldn’t be hard to do in a place like the Jeff City prison but wouldn’t go over well with Keats considering Jake was supposed to kill Langston in the first place on Keats’s order.

  “Bear’s right,” Jake said, tossing the coffee over the porch rail. “I should’ve pulled the trigger. If I had, we wouldn’t be in this mess, and our daughter could get a decent night’s sleep.”

  “You can’t blame yourself.”

  “Sure, I can.”

  “Jake, if you start down this road, you—”

  “You all packed up?”

  She blew out a breath. She knew when to push him and when to not. “Think so. Any idea where we’re going?”

  “Not yet. Hopefully, Bear got that all worked out last night. His girls still asleep?”

  “I peeked in the spare bedroom. Audrey is asleep. Alyssa was scrolling through her phone. Her and Halle are probably texting each other even though they’re fifteen feet apart.”

  “They’re teenagers. Can’t believe they’re awake before noon.” Jake’s shoulders fell, pulled by the gravity of their situation.

  Maggie must’ve felt it and kissed his neck. “What are you thinking?”

  A flock of blackbirds blasted over the Ozark treetops heading south, and Jake followed their trail until they disappeared. “I’m thinking your desire for a drama-free life is going to have to wait a little while longer. I’m sorry I broke my promise again.”

  Maggie buried her blonde head into Jake’s chest. “This one’s not on you, Caldwell.”

  “Maybe not, but trouble keeps finding its way to my doorstep.”

  “Our doorstep. You don’t get to do it alone anymore.”

  Our doorstep. Like he needed another reminder his past put his wife and daughter in danger yet again. Jake’s cell rang—Bear told him he’d be there in twenty minutes.

  “Let’s get some more coffee going. I’ve been pouring it down the throat of the cop at the door all night and Bear’s on his way. Said his stomach is trying to eat itself.”

  “I’ll get some bacon and eggs out, too,” Maggie said, patting Jake’s chest. “Bear’s kind of a dick when he’s hungry.”

  Twenty minutes later, Bear hit the top of the driveway. When he climbed out of his truck, his weary eyes drooped, and he slogged toward the house like a zombie.

  Jake stepped off the porch. “Jesus, you look like you tied one on last night in one of our honkey tonks.”

  “I wish. Would have been a hell of a lot more fun than scrambling around like a chicken with its head cut off. Plus, Dick Blackwell’s new ad for County Sheriff floated across my radio, insinuating I’ve been embezzling money earmarked for the new jail.”

  “Can’t believe he actually said that.”

  “He didn’t. His political action committee did. Lot of fun trying to prove a negative. You don’t look like you got any more sleep than I did.”

  Jake waved him through the front door. “I didn’t. Spent the night waiting for something bad to happen.”

  Bear plopped in a chair at the dining room table, and Maggie delivered a plate of bacon and eggs along with a steaming cup of coffee. Audrey’s plump figure shuffled into the kitchen. Her bloodshot eyes caught the bacon gracing her husband’s mouth, and her eyebrows shot to the ceiling.

  “Don’t give me any shit about the bacon, woman,” Bear grumbled. “I haven’t scarfed down any meat candy for a month.”

  Audrey beelined to the coffee pot, her tangled auburn hair skimming the shoulders of a rumpled Kansas City Royals shirt. “I didn’t say a word. But your doctor said each piece of bacon you eat takes nine minutes off your life.”

  Bear popped a piece in his mouth. “In that case, I should’ve died in 1782.”

  Jake sat across the table and dove into the plate Maggie set in front of him. He glanced over his shoulder to ensure their wives were out of earshot and leaned toward Bear, his voice low. “You find out anything on Langston?”

  “No sign of him or his cellmate. They found the bodies of the guard and his
wife at their house in Jeff City. We think he helped Langston escape. ’Course, we’re guessing it was the guard because he was wearing his uniform, though his face was beaten to hamburger.”

  Jake took a sip of coffee. “Guess Shane decided to bite the hand that fed him. What about the wife?”

  Bear flicked his eyes toward Maggie and Audrey, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Tied to the bed, raped, and shot in the head twice. Or shot in the head and then raped. We’re unsure which came first. Found their prison jumpsuits on the bedroom floor. Not sure who did the raping and killing, but they were both there.”

  Jake pushed away the half-eaten plate, his hunger smacked away by the bloodied images flocking to his brain. Disturbing as they were, they weren’t surprising. Shane was a violent psychopath who killed his own brother and delivered his head in a box to Jake’s old mob boss as a warning. If he’d behead his own brother, there were no limits to what he’d do to anyone else.

  As a former leg-breaker for the mob, Jake was no stranger to violence. He’d broken more deadbeat bones over the years than he cared to count. Though the echoes of his victims’ screams still haunted his dreams, those nightmares grew less frequent. Jake never killed anyone while working for the mob but iced a handful of bad guys since getting out. They all deserved it. At least that’s what he told himself. It seemed to at least separate him from a psycho like Langston.

  “What time do we deliver everyone?” Jake asked as Audrey approached the table.

  “Told Mac and Toby we’d drop them off around ten at a safe house in Kansas City. You and I have some work to do.”

  Audrey crossed her arms, her brows knitted together. “And just who are these guys you’re dumping us on?”

  “Guys I trust.” Bear pushed on the table and rose to his feet. “Between the two of them, they have more experience in their thumbnails than Jake and I have in both our bodies put together. You’ll be safe until we track down Langston.”