Solomon's Compass

by Carol Kilgore

  From the street a dog growled. A bored voice replied, “Come on, Thor. You can’t go back there.”

  Crap. Don’t move. Don’t think. Don’t panic. Her heartbeat took off like a runaway train.

  Thor barked.

  “I said no.”

  Taylor’s nose itched, but she didn’t move to rub it. Thor’s bark was deep; he was large. She closed her eyes. Don’t move. Don’t think. Don’t panic.

  Thor whined.

  “Leave it.”

  She moved enough to rub her forearm against the side of her nose and take a breath.

  “Good boy. Wanna run? Come on. Let’s go.” The slap of shoes on the asphalt followed and grew fainter as she listened.

  Thank God the dog owner had been authoritative instead of curious. She took a deep breath and waited for her heart to stop pounding before she clawed at the sides of the box. A tiny bit of space appeared on each side, and she clawed some more, enough to wedge the tip of the shovel under the bottom of the box. She used the shovel as a lever. With the box tilted upward, she knelt again and grabbed the handle, pushing the box from side to side to loosen it.

  “Get out of there, you bastard.” The words, whispered through her teeth, didn’t budge the ammo can.

  Taylor pulled again, landing on her ass when the box came free. “All right!”

  Her hand throbbed, but the pain didn’t stop her. She grabbed the shovel and loaded sand into the hole. Every so often she stepped in and tamped it down before continuing. Even with the sand back in the hole, the space slumped several inches lower than the surrounding area—a predicament she’d anticipated. She drew a small bag of potting soil from her tote, emptied it into the hole, and tamped it down. Perfect.

  She retrieved the sod, laid it in place, and tamped it down as she’d done with the sand and potting soil. If Will returned this instant, she’d scoop everything into her tote, grab the ammo can, and run like hell. But she still had work to do.

  A cat howled nearby, and she jumped. Christ, it was Animal Planet around here. She wouldn’t need cardio for a week. After gulping some fresh air, she shook the trash bag and stuffed it into her tote along with the leather gloves.

  From a small pocket on the side, she took out some folded paper towels. In the center lay another item purchased at the golf shop—a divot tool—grabbed from a rack at the register. Mark had been a golfer. Divots were chunks of sod and earth golfers often gouged out when making long driving shots. The tool wove the edges of sod from the fairway and the divot together.

  Sitting on the ground, Taylor pushed and tugged the sod from both sides all the way around the square. The work was more difficult than she remembered, but this tough St. Augustine wasn’t fairway grass. The head lamp showcased an imperfect outcome. After spending more minutes on a corner that didn’t please her, she nodded approval. Will would have to crawl over his lawn on hands and knees to spot where the hole had been. As long as the square she scooped out didn’t die. If he did find it, he wouldn’t know what had transpired.

  She pulled a liter bottle of water from her tote and took a long swig. Sweat soaked her clothes and tickled her back, but she was almost finished. She watered the edges of the square of sod first, then the center. And packed her tote. The ammo box went in first, followed by everything else, including the empty water bottle.

  One more task and she’d be ready to go—she used the paper towels to blot any excess water that might sparkle in Will’s headlights.

  Now she could leave. She hefted the tote to her shoulder. At the corner of the house, she turned—the lawn appeared undisturbed. She hoped it held up as well under the hot Texas sun.

  Jake followed Taylor to Knox’s house, arriving at the end of the street in time to watch her walk to the backyard carrying a large tote. No fences divided the properties. He jogged to the street behind Knox’s, thankful he’d changed out of his boots and jeans into shorts and sport shoes. No lights shone at the fifth and sixth houses. He snuggled between two tall bushes in the backyard and brought night vision binoculars to his eyes.

  He was two houses away from Knox’s property. Toward the back of the lot, large shrubs intermingled with a few trees. Several feet toward the house, a bed of flowers occupied a large space. Taylor stood near the flowers on the house side with a shovel in her hands.

  Randy must have buried something here—possibly his belt—and told her where. It was all that made sense, but why would he have come here to bury anything? Why not on his own property where he would see if anyone came looking? Jake had the urge to go take the shovel from her and dig, but doing so would cause a scene. Not what she wanted, for sure, or she wouldn’t be digging by the light of the moon when Knox wasn’t around.

  She scooped off a square of sod and went balls to the wall on the hole. Every once in a while she stopped for a minute or so before attacking it again. Clink. He heard the sound all the way across the lawns that separated them.

  On her knees, Taylor focused on retrieving her goal, digging with her hands to loosen it. She pried it up with the shovel. There—an old ammo can. She held it at eye level then set it aside. Good. She needed to cover her tracks and leave while he stood guard.

  Damn! She even brought extra dirt to fill in the hole. A divot tool! Wait until he told his dad. She could be a pro. If he didn’t know her Coast Guard connections, he would’ve wondered.

  He covered his mouth with his hand so no sound would escape and caught himself in time. His body shook with laughter while she watered the damn grass. He guessed so it wouldn’t wilt. She even survived a barking dog and howling cat. That was his woman!

  No, she wasn’t his woman. She was mad as hell at him, and he didn’t blame her. To make matters worse, she didn’t know who he really was, and he couldn’t tell her.

  While she loaded her tote, he moved through the shrubbery to stay closer to her. Coming onto the street would present an excellent opportunity for an ambush, especially if the killer knew or suspected what the ammo can held. Jake was prepared, staying no more than twenty feet behind and in the shadows.

  A big yellow tabby lay in the center of the street. As Taylor drew closer, the tip of his tail nodded to her in greeting. She walked past the cat and leaned her tote against the car.

  Jake moved up to the massive trunk of an old tree with branches that spread over the front yard of the house next to Will’s. Music played inside the house, and bits of the melody escaped into the night. As long as no one turned on a floodlight or opened the front blinds, he was fine.

  Taylor was walking back toward the cat, talking to him. “Are you the one who howled?”

  Come on, Taylor. Get a move on. It could be dangerous for you out here.

  She crouched next to the cat. “I’ll bet you are, and you’re laughing over giving me a good scare.”

  Jake assessed the surroundings the same as if he were on a SEAL mission. Nothing raised an alarm. Nothing seemed added, missing, or disordered—just a quiet small-town street.

  The only noise besides the music were Taylor’s words to the cat as she scratched his ears. “You’re an old softy.”

  One huge tree limb curved down and toward the street. He followed it, keeping the limb between himself and Taylor. Movement. At the corner. Jake froze. He inched his head far enough to see a dark SUV turning the corner. No headlights.

  Jake dropped to a crouch and ducked under the limb to the other side. The SUV was gaining speed.

  The cat bolted toward him as he ran toward Taylor. The rumble of a car engine grew louder. Taylor raised her head.

  He was two steps away. Close enough to see the fear on her face at the sight of the SUV. Jake reached her as she turned away to dive in front of her car.

  He wrapped one arm around Taylor and the other over her mouth to keep her from screaming. Lifting her off the ground, he spun them in front of her car just as the SUV roared past.

  Taylor struggled against him, kicked his shins. He dropped his forehead against the top of her head and
breathed in the scent of her shampoo. “Taylor. It’s me. Jake. You’re all right. Don’t scream. Okay?”

  She didn’t move.

  “Okay?”

  She nodded, and he removed his hand from her mouth.

  “Put me down.”

  Jake set her feet on the ground.

  Her hands shook. “Where the hell did you come from?”

  “I’m doing my job. That’s all.” Only Jake knew he didn’t have a choice. He’d died inside seeing the car speeding toward Taylor. Fear propelled him forward, faster than he should have been able to move.

  Taylor’s hands shook. The yellow gloves magnified the movement. “The headlights on that car were off.”

  “I know.” He wanted to hold her. Go for it, fool. She would probably smack him.

  “Did you see the driver?”

  “No. I kept my eye on the ball. You were the ball.”

  “All I saw was a hat—like a fisherman’s cap. I didn’t think to look at the license plate. What kind of witness am I?”

  “A living one.” Thank God.

  Taylor paced and kneaded her forehead with the heels of her palms. “I hate being jerked around by someone else.”

  She returned and stood in front of him. “Thank you for saving my life. I froze when I saw the car.”

  Jake shook his head. “You were up and in dive mode to reach the side of the street. You would have made it. I just got you there quicker. And kept you from breaking an arm or collarbone.”

  “I don’t think so. At a minimum, I owe you a thanks for no broken bones.” She slumped against him, her arms wrapping around his waist.

  Jake held her close.

  “I was terrified. And helpless. And angry. All at once. And at the same time I kept thinking I couldn’t die that way.”

  He didn’t want to turn loose of her, but they couldn’t continue standing here in the street. The driver might return at any moment, and they might not be so fortunate next time.

  He stepped back and placed his hands on Taylor’s shoulders. “We need to move. Get in, open the trunk. I’ll put your tote inside. Then drive me to my car. I’ll follow you to your hotel.”

  Taylor nodded and unlocked her door.

  Jake had her drive a random pattern around the surrounding blocks, but neither of them saw a lurking dark SUV. The adrenaline was leaving. Along with it, the strong emotions he’d experienced earlier.

  A few minutes later, Taylor stopped next to his car. “I’m not going straight to the hotel.”

  “We’re fine. No one will follow you. Except me.”

  She shook her head. “No. I have a bit of business down by the water. It won’t take long.” She pointed ahead.

  “I’ll be right behind you. Take your time.”

  Taylor barely made it to the pier where Randy’s body had been found before her shoulders shook with huge sobs. Fear, sorrow. She’d never been so close to major injury or death. Through her tears, she tracked Jake’s headlights. He pulled off behind her, leaving enough room he could pull out without her car moving. If necessary.

  With the car in park, she pulled off both pairs of gloves and the smushed, sweat-wet gauze and toilet paper that had been around her hand. She’d finally stopped shaking. Another bottle of water would’ve been nice.

  She faced the bay. “I’ve found your cache, Uncle Randy. I wish you had shared your problems, but I understand you tried to protect me. Thing is, I might have been able to protect you.”

  She was silent for a minute or two, just remembering all the good times.

  Finally she sighed and put her hands on the steering wheel. “Now that I have your treasure, I hope I know what the hell to do with it.”

  A few minutes after leaving the pier, Jake pulled into the lot behind Taylor, parked next to her, and waited at the back of her car.

  “I’m glad you followed me here. You know there are a lot of dark-colored cars in this town?” She opened her trunk and removed her tote.

  Jake slipped the tote from her fingers before she could protest and closed the lid. “It was a small SUV. So that only rules out about half of the vehicles we saw heading here.”

  “You don’t have to come in.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Whatever. But thanks for carrying my tote.”

  The desk clerk was busy with a late check-in. They reached the elevator, and Jake let Taylor push the button for her floor. He followed her to her door.

  Her right hand gripped her room key card. She slipped it in the slot, removed it, and pushed open her door. “I appreciate your being my bodyguard.”

  “Wait here. Let me check your room.” He went in, set the tote next to the television, and made the usual rounds while she watched. It wasn’t necessary, because none of the cameras had been tripped, but it’s what he would have done without cameras in place.

  When he came out of the bathroom, Taylor stood on the other side of the small table and chairs, giving him plenty of room to open the door and leave without coming close to her. Her eyes were wide with fear, and he knew at least some of that fear was because of him.

  Jake slid the table in front of the door. The chairs followed.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Making sure you don’t try to run away.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you’re afraid.”

  “I am not scared.” Her voice wavered. She frowned and tucked her chin. “Especially not of you.”

  He grinned and raised an eyebrow, a trick of his dad’s he’d worked for months to master. “You should be.”

  “After all you’ve told me, yes I should.”

  “I’m trained to kill. But I would never hurt you, Taylor. Not ever. You have my word.”

  Taylor’s gaze flicked on and off of his, and she gave a curt nod. He walked around the room turning on lights: the bedside lamps, the vanity area, the bathroom, never taking his eyes off Taylor.

  He returned to her and moved the tote to the table. “Okay. You do the honors.”

  She turned on him, standing tall and squaring her shoulders, every inch a Coast Guard officer. Except for her haunted eyes. “How did you follow me?” Her accusing tone said she meant business.

  “I learned vehicle surveillance a long time ago. You did a good job on checking for a tail.”

  “At first I could see cars and colors. I was very careful, and I would have sworn no one followed me.”

  “You were careful. The double-back through the parking lot was a smart move. I have more training. That’s all.” And your car has a tracking device.

  “How did you do it? You’re one person, not a team. What should I watch for?”

  “Practice. You didn’t make any wrong moves. I’m more qualified in security is all, but I couldn’t command a cutter.”

  “No, you couldn’t.”

  Her shoulders relaxed a little, and she no longer looked like a wounded animal.

  “You could’ve helped me dig. And saved my hand.” She held it out, palm up.

  “Aw, Christ.” He winced. The swollen pink area around the cut hurt to look at. “Come in here.”

  He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the lavatory. “Hold your hand under cold running water while I fix a compress.”

  She yanked her wrist away. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Jesus H. Let somebody help you for a change.”

  A few cooperative minutes later they stood at the table, Taylor’s hand wrapped in two cold wet washcloths held in place by a dry hand towel. Three folded towels waited on the table for her to prop her hand on after she sat.

  He pulled the ammo can from her tote. “For the record, I didn’t know about this. Or that you were headed to dig it up. Can you open this thing one-handed?”

  “If you’ll hold the box, I’ll open it.”

  The ammo can opened by a flat latch on the front that lifted up and out. Taylor pulled the top of the box open. On top of the contents, lay the rest of Randy’s b
elt proudly proclaiming the words Solomon’s Compass.

  The buckle clanked against the metal box as she brought the belt to her cheek. “I so wish I wasn’t doing this.” The familiar scent increased the longing for her uncle.

  All she wanted was for Randy to walk through the door and give her a big bear hug. Jake draped his arm around her shoulders, letting her lean against him. She hated herself. She didn’t want to lean on anyone, especially not on Jake Solomon, the bastard. He did save her life, even if he hadn’t saved Randy’s. As soon as she convinced herself not to bawl like a baby, she stepped away.

  “I want—” She cleared her throat and blinked hard. “I want to remember the exact order of contents in the ammo can. It might be important. There’s a notebook and pencil in the nightstand drawer over against the wall. Will you keep a list?”

  “Good idea.” He reached the nightstand in only a few steps. Her pulse quickened watching his body move. She hated that he still turned her on, so she sank into the chair, propping her hand on the towels. Jake pulled his chair next to hers and flipped to a blank page without stopping at the others. Not that it mattered. Her notes all pertained to the Susquehanna. On the top line he wrote Randy’s SC belt w/empty buckle in a firm, quick hand.

  Taylor! Stop thinking about Jake. She huffed.

  “What’s the matter? Is it your hand?”

  Don’t think about his damn instant concern either. “Nothing. This is more emotional than I thought.”

  “Take your time. How did you know about the ammo can?”

  “Randy sent me a letter, mailed on the day he died. Or was killed. Let’s go on. I’m good.”

  Jake ran his fingers over the face of the buckle. “Not even a tiny scratch. It’s smoother than mine. Look how carefully he removed the lapis lazuli. He moved the mounting prongs just enough to remove the stone.”