Jude groaned inwardly, trying hard to remember he was doing this for Judith. Only for her.
“Sorry about that.” Floyd’s voice filtered through the haze in Jude’s brain. “You should’ve known they weren’t going to be happy to see you.”
“Shut up,” Jude muttered quietly as he finished wiping his nose. Of course he knew that.
The bleeding stopped, but he wadded several tissues against it just in case. Sucking up a deep breath of I-can-do-this, he tossed the tissues and went back to wait out the Brothers’ decision. Alan, Mickey, and Clyde each offered angry glances in his direction, and Jude prepared for another beat-down.
Damn, it had been a tough couple of days. He hadn’t slept on the cross-country flight or any night since he’d left California. More like he couldn’t, not after he’d left without a word to Cassidy or Judith. His heart hurt for the women he’d left behind. They deserved better, damn it. Floyd should’ve let him have that one last word.
Clyde raised his head from the huddle. “What’s Cain want us to do now?”
“Not much,” Jude answered. “He just wants the second coming completed. Fast.”
“Why?” Alan still glared plenty, but Jude saw hopeful signs. Clyde, the stress eater, had stopped stuffing donuts into his mouth. Mickey’s dark brows weren’t furrowed as deeply.
Jude waved them off, feigning indifference. “Listen, you guys don’t need me hanging around. I’m just the prophet’s messenger. I promised I’d come, and I did. Keep the prophet’s ring safe. I’m outta here.” He lifted his butt from the chair, his heart doing Olympic-style cartwheels in his chest. Damn, where had all this bravado come from?
Mickey straightened. “Just hold on a minute. We ain’t done decidin’. Shut up.”
Jude shrugged and settled back to the chair, staring at his shoes instead of risking eye contact. Every time he turned around these days it seemed someone beat the heck out of him. This time he had no weapon, only a wire taped to his back and an earpiece, both which would get him killed by a savvy covert operator like Tucker or Cassidy maybe. He shot the Brothers Grimm a quick glance. They didn’t look savvy. Just mean.
Alan and Mickey were both dark-haired and unshaven. Clyde, on the other hand, was clown-sized, as wide as he was tall. Clean-shaven, but triple-chinned. Bald. Squinty-eyed. The obvious weak link. Why he’d been given this dangerous assignment escaped Jude. But then, much of Cain’s decisions made no sense.
By the sounds of their guarded conversation, Alan was against the idea of Jude staying. Mickey and Clyde seemed more amenable. Jude wiped his nose, wishing Alan would win the debate. Then Floyd would have to come up with a different plan, and Jude could go home.
Finally, the discussion ended. All three men faced Jude.
“Okay,” Alan spoke up. “Message received. Now how’s the prophet gonna know you talked with us? We can’t get hold of him. Can you?”
Jude met his steely-eyed stare, relieved that FBI intel was accurate. “Easy. We don’t. What you guys don’t know is the FBI raided the compound right after you left. Only a few of us escaped. The prophet’s gone into hiding, along with Greg and Hank. I don’t even know where they are—that’s how important I am. But Cain did give me orders before we split up. I’m to return to the compound if you can’t complete your mission. Some of the Elite will be watching for me there. Is there a problem?”
Confronting Alan seemed to do the trick. The Elite weren’t known for defying their prophet. “Ain’t no problem. It’s just strange is all. He wanted you dead last time I talked with him. Gave Brother Victor the job.”
Jude nodded. “Yes. He was unhappy with me, and I did meet with Brother Victor. But here I am, still alive, and you know damned well I wouldn’t be if Brother Victor had his way, would I?”
“Bet Cain’s busy playing with that little girl of yours right now.” Clyde stabbed an index finger into Jude’s chest. He couldn’t seem to shut up. “He always liked ’em young.”
It took all Jude’s willpower not to bend that powdered-sugar-coated finger back and break it off. Don’t let him get to you. Judith is safe. Cain is dead.
Clyde snickered. “You gotta admit, he’s a twisted old fart. He likes to tie ’em up sometimes and—”
“Shut up!” Alan roared. “We don’t talk about the prophet that way. He can do what he wants with ’em. With all of ’em!”
When Clyde cowered, Jude knew for certain who was boss in this threesome. He directed his next question to Alan. “Am I staying or leaving?”
“Stay,” Alan snapped back at him. “I don’t much like it, but Mickey’s got a point. We need someone to handle the ricin. Might as well be you instead of us.”
Jude sighed. Great. Like I don’t have enough problems. “What’s the plan?”
“You tell me, smart guy. If you’re so close to the prophet all of a sudden, you oughta know the plan.”
“Yeah,” Mickey joined in. “What’s the plan, Cannon?”
Jude pulled a map of the New York subway out of his back pocket. He went over to the smashed desk and dragged the now mobile desktop over to the bed. In a second, he had Alan, Mickey, and Clyde peering over his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter what the old plan was because the prophet changed it. Initially, he meant you guys to hit the Chambers Street Subway transfer station, right?”
Clyde and Mickey nodded.
“Now he wants you to plant another canister at Times Square.”
“I still think you’re lying,” Alan argued. “That ain’t going to effect enough people.”
“Yeah, but it affects the World Trade Center,” Jude replied. “Think about the panic that will cause, especially since 9-11.”
“I like it,” Mickey said thoughtfully. “It gives us four subway lines at Times Square, and you gotta admit, anything that hits near the World Trade Center will create a stink. Cops’ll be all over the place. Firemen, too.”
“If we time it right,” Alan muttered, his lips in a permanent scowl.
“Makes sense,” Clyde mumbled around another mouthful of cinnamon crumb. “I say go with it.”
“It’s what the prophet wanted. Two strikes instead of one. Twice the mayhem.” Jude watched for any indication this conversation might lead to the whereabouts of the ricin stash. “Listen guys, this will be the prophet’s declaration of war. It’s got to be bigger than all the others. You might have to get more canisters.”
Alan’s mouth hardened into a thin line. “No one calls for the ricin but me.”
“Whatever.” Jude lifted one shoulder, hoping he looked more indifferent than he felt. “Just make sure you’ve got enough, and whatever you do, don’t lose that ring.”
“I said I’d take care of it!” Alan jabbed Cain’s ring inside his front pants pocket, his teeth bared. “It ain’t going nowhere else until I put it in Lucien’s hand myself. That safe enough for you, Bozo?”
“Works for me. I’m going to get some shut-eye.” Jude left the map for the three geniuses to argue over and slumped onto the couch. Turning his back to them, he breathed a quick sigh of relief, thankful they couldn’t see the trembling fingers he clenched to his chest. He’d made some leeway, but Alan’s distrust would be tough to overcome. At least, they hadn’t searched him and found the wire.
“Good thinking, buddy,” Floyd whispered deep inside his ear. “I like the 9-11 spin. I might make an FBI agent out of you yet.”
The only answer Jude could afford was a groan and an unspoken go to hell.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Where’s my dad?”
Cassidy offered a small smile as she patiently answered for the umpteenth time, “He’s still helping the FBI, Judith. Right now your father’s on his way to San Francisco. Alex will call when he has more news, remember?”
Judith’s gray eyes searched Cassidy’s face for minutes before she looked away. It had been days, and Alex had called faithfully every morning with the current status of Jude’s whereabouts. The once-confident girl Cassidy had met
in the root cellar had transformed into an insecure teenager who startled easily and cried most of the time. Judith displayed all the symptoms of a trauma victim. She didn’t have a clue who to trust. Not really. Not yet. She woke up screaming every night, and even Miss Fluffy couldn’t keep the nightmares away.
Cassidy knew exactly how she felt.
Not one to resort to sedatives or anti-depressants, Cassidy wondered if that might be the only way to bring a measure of peace into Judith’s life. Still—she waited. Jude should make that kind of a decision.
She uncurled her legs from the wicker bench on Jude’s front porch. “I’m going out to the boat dock for a while. Join me? We might see those turtles again.”
“Okay,” Judith whispered. She placed Miss Fluffy inside, locked the door behind her, and pocketed her cell phone. Cassidy smiled sadly. Misplacing a cell phone these days could send Judith into a panic attack. She was convinced her father would call the first chance he got. The problem was, he hadn’t.
“Here.” Cassidy retrieved a small department store bag from her swimsuit cover-up pocket. “I got this for you at the airport the day we left Washington.”
As Judith peered inside the bag, big alligator tears spilled down her face. “Oh, thank you. Thank you so, so much.”
Everything was an occasion to hug, and Cassidy endured yet another soggy embrace. When it was over, Judith secured the gift, a cell phone holder, around her neck. She offered a weak smile. “It’s red, my favorite color.”
“I knew that.” Parting her cover-up, Cassidy revealed the exact same contraption hanging around her neck. “I like blue. Now there’s no way we’ll miss your dad’s call.”
“Blue’s my dad’s favorite color, too.” Judith’s voice caught, and Cassidy held her breath. This was going to be another long day.
Together they walked the short distance to Jude’s private dock where a pontoon boat bobbed under an aluminum canopy. The morning sun was high in the sky, but the breeze off the water had cooled everything down. Two eucalyptus-wood chaise lounges faced the peaceful Saint John’s River, but Cassidy and Judith both preferred the edge of the dock. And another day of grief therapy got under way.
The longer she stayed with Judith, the more details Cassidy picked up about Jude and the daughter he adored. Not only was his favorite color blue, but he played the baby grand piano in his sitting room, and according to Judith, he enjoyed opera and theater as much as she did.
He’d chosen an exquisite site for his Spanish-style home with its white stucco walls and red-tiled roof, due west of Saint Augustine, Florida. Located on a private wooded acre, his plot included a thickly overgrown wooded area to one side, and a private boat dock at the other.
Other homes along the river were just as elegant. It seemed Jude wasn’t just a lowly accountant working a nine-to-five kind of a job. The finely manicured lawn and the wrap-around porch that encircled the home declared a man of means lived there
Everything inside and out was neat, tidy, and fastidiously maintained, but it was the bedroom he kept for Judith that convinced Cassidy of Jude’s heart. If the crazy pink and purple shag carpet wasn’t a sure giveaway of a father’s love and patience, the posters of the Phantom of the Opera and Les Misérables splashed across Judith’s mauve walls were. Miss Fluffy’s elegant pink and purple kitty house stood in the corner, and by the looks of it, nothing was denied the frail young woman wiggling her toes in the water like a little girl.
The ancient, loblolly pine sheltering Jude’s home was another sure indicator of what kind of man he was. The construction company had to have taken great care not to damage the giant tree when they built the house. The old fellow lent a steady guard over Jude’s home, sheltering it with needles and shade, along with the silvery-gray strands of Spanish moss dangling from every branch. It made for a timelessly beautiful setting. It reminded Cassidy of Jude with the way it stood steadfast over his family. The same way he’d tried to protect her.
“We had an alligator under our back porch one time,” Judith said quietly.
“You did?” Cassidy lifted her bare feet from the river and glanced toward the house, checking for reptiles lurking in the shadows.
“It’s okay. It’s gone. Dad called an alligator wrestler, and he hauled it away in his truck.”
“Did he really wrestle it?” Cassidy had to know.
“Oh, yes. He pulled it out from under the porch with this big long stick with a wire loop on the end. Once he wrapped duct tape around its snout, he had to wrestle it to get it up in his truck. Dad helped. It was so, so scary.”
Cassidy smiled at the thought of Jude wrestling an alligator. That would’ve been a sight to see. “Where were you while all this was going on?”
“Dad made me stay inside and watch out the window.” Judith’s voice faded away. Just then, Miss Fluffy strolled along the dock and climbed up to join Judith. The Maine Coon padded Judith’s lap for a moment before she settled down with a satisfied purr as if she had every right to be there.
“So tell me about Miss Fluffy. Like how did she just get out of the house?” Cassidy ruffled the silver tabby’s long, thick fur.
“Hmm. I might have left the deck door open. Sorry. What else do you want to know?”
“Oh, nothing. Cats just seem to have their own stories. Like I found Magic under my car one morning when I was going to work. She was barely old enough to be away from her mom. Her eyes were infected and her ears were full of mites. All I could think was that maybe her mother was moving her litter and lost one of her kittens along the way.”
“Aw, poor baby. She’s lucky you found her.”
“Or she knew exactly which house to show up at. Honestly, I think mine has a flashing neon sign over it that only animals can see that says, ‘A sucker lives here!’”
“I’d be okay with that,” Judith murmured. “I like animals. All of them.”
“So spill. Miss Fluffy is gorgeous. Where’d your dad buy her?”
“Nah-ah. He didn’t.” Judith drew in a deep breath. “She’s a stray, too. I was coming home late from school one day after flute lessons, and some boys from my class were in a circle hollering. I thought maybe they were fighting or something.” She gave Cassidy a tearful look. “But they weren’t. One of them had a cigarette lighter. He held this little gray kitten by her tail while he burned her whiskers.”
Cassidy cringed at the thought. “What’d you do?”
“I got so, so mad.” Judith’s eyes sparked. “I pushed that stupid boy, and I grabbed that poor little kitty. She scratched me, but I didn’t care. She was going home with me.”
“Did he let you just walk off with her?”
“No.” Judith rubbed her cheek. “He punched me and screamed that she was his cat and he could do what he wanted with her. Poor Miss Fluffy fell when he hit me, so he grabbed her again. He swung her around like she was a toy or something. And she was crying. And I thought he might throw her and so I... and I...”
Cassidy waited.
Judith’s fingers clenched into fists. “I don’t really remember what happened next, but all of a sudden, I was on top of that stupid boy, and I hit him and his nose was bleeding and... and then I stopped. Everyone was watching, and I got embarrassed. He was crying that I’d hurt him, but I didn’t care. I took Miss Fluffy, and I told him the next time he hurt anything, I was gonna beat him up again. And I meant it.”
Judith stroked the silky motorboat on her lap. “I brought Miss Fluffy home and I asked Dad if I could keep her.”
Cassidy grinned. “He said you bet, huh?”
“Yes, he did, and then he bundled her into a nice warm towel and we took her to our vet.”
That sounded exactly like Jude.
Cassidy let the silence of the river work its magic, hoping it reached Judith, too. The opportunity to swim at any hour of the day went a long way toward restoring Judith’s peace of mind. After everything that had gone down in California, she needed the therapy of swimming, snorkeling, and just
lying around under a layer of suntan lotion and a wide-brimmed hat. Cassidy needed it, too.
She’d never been a late sleeper, but she’d become one now, mostly because she hadn’t gotten a full night’s worth of uninterrupted sleep since Rourke died.
“I’m so, so sorry about your friend,” Judith whispered. “I can’t stop thinking about him. Rourke seemed like a really good guy.”
Cassidy instantly cast her gaze across the river. Judith loved the word ‘so’ and ‘so’ she over-used it. It typified teenage drama, but it was still just a word, and neither words nor the sparkling blue water could erase the fact that Rourke was gone.
Judith’s continual apologizing for something no one had any control over didn’t make it any better. Cassidy couldn’t help Judith recover from her trauma anymore than she could help herself. Her heart hurt twenty-four-seven for Rourke, and most days her head hurt, too. The only thing she knew for sure was that hearts healed too damned slow.
She drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled before she could answer. “I think the first year after you lose someone is the hardest. Least that’s what I’ve read. You’ve had the mother of hard years. It’s going to take a little longer. Be good to yourself. Be patient.”
“Every day sucks,” Judith answered quietly. “Every single one of them.”
“You miss your mom, too.” Cassidy hurt for the tender young woman next to her. She’d lost so much.
“Yes,” Judith admitted, her one-word answer tight. The tears were sure to follow.
“So how do we help ourselves get through tough times, Judith?”
“I don’t know. I thought I did, but now I’m not sure. Maybe one day I’ll just walk out into the middle of the river until I can’t walk anymore. Maybe once I get far enough, everything will stop hurting.”
Cassidy listened and waited. She didn’t respond. This wasn’t the first time Judith had hinted at suicide, but Cassidy also knew this was a common reaction to loss. Hell, she had the same dark thoughts, which was why her pistol was unloaded and locked safely in the lockbox beneath her bed in the guest room instead of in her holster on her nightstand.
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