No One Knows

by J. T. Ellison

  Cosmos’s face contorted, his black eyes narrowing. “Don’t do this, Allen. We had a deal.”

  “We have a new deal now,” Allen said. “I know how you people think. You’ll kill me and absorb the kid into your organization so you don’t have to give me a cut. That’s not going to happen.”

  Josh advanced, and Cosmos shrugged and started to hand it over. The man looked pissed but calm and collected, like being robbed by a business partner was an everyday occurrence.

  Josh got his hand on the handle of the briefcase, his eyes never leaving the dealer. He didn’t see the move until it was too late. Cosmos was lighting quick. He shoved the briefcase into Josh’s chest, knocking him backward onto his ass, and whipped out his gun. Fired.

  But Allen anticipated the move and fired at the same time. The shots echoed through the Nashville night. A dog started to bark frantically, and the dealer collapsed on the pavement, leaking blood from a leg wound. He groaned and fumbled for his weapon.

  Allen calmly said, “Shit. Missed.” He fired again, and Cosmos stopped moving.

  Josh ducked behind Cosmos’s car. Fuck. Fuck! Allen had just killed the guy.

  Crazy-ass motherfucker. And Josh was a witness. The only witness.

  And he saw what was happening, clear as day. The gun Allen had used to kill Cosmos had Josh’s prints all over it.

  He realized he was holding the briefcase.

  Allen chuckled, five feet to his right, moving closer. Hunting him in the dark.

  “It’s safe now, kid. Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

  Josh swallowed, pointed the gun at Allen, shut his eyes, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

  Son of a bitch. His weapon was unloaded.

  Hamilton, you are a first-class idiot.

  He looked around him for something, anything that could help. Cosmos lay dead on the other side of the car. His gun was by his side.

  Josh scrambled under the car, twisting on the hard ground, lugging the briefcase with him. He came out the other side, right next to the body. His fingers found metal, and his heart stopped racing. He could fix this.

  Josh took a deep breath, clutching the dealer’s gun in his hand. He stood and pointed the new weapon at Allen. His voice was cool and steady. “Stop moving.”

  “Don’t you even think about it, Hamilton. Give me the briefcase, and no one will get hurt.”

  He didn’t waver, and Allen’s face grew wary.

  “I see what you were doing, Allen. This is a setup for me, too. Get my prints on the gun, kill Cosmos, turn me in. You waltz away with the money and the pills, and I take the fall. Is that about what was supposed to happen?”

  “Hey, now, kid. It’s just the price of doing business. You’ve become a liability. I can see the struggle in you. You’re ready to bolt, to turn yourself or me in, try to get your life back. I can’t have that. The cartel wanted to cut me out, use you directly. I’m protecting you. And you belong to me now. You’ll keep your mouth shut, or you know what happens. I destroy your pretty little wife. You get me?”

  Something inside him broke. The months of agony, the betrayal, the pressure, it all exploded, and this time, he didn’t close his eyes before pulling the trigger. The gun roared, and Allen dropped, shock on his face. His gun hand relaxed, and the weapon fell to the pavement with a clatter.

  Oh, fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

  Sirens broke the distant air. The dog was still barking its fool head off.

  Allen was dying, his eyes glazed in pain and shock.

  Josh’s mind cleared. He picked up Allen’s gun and wiped it down, then put it back in his hand. He wiped the SIG down, replaced the gun by Cosmos’s body. Stuck his head into Allen’s car. The drugs were there. He grabbed everything he could, shoved the pills, coke, and Rx pads in his pockets.

  The sirens were getting closer.

  He looked at the scene. Prayed like hell the cops would pull up and think it was a drug deal gone bad and the two men had shot each other.

  And he took off running, the briefcase heavy in his arms.

  CHAPTER 65

  It took him fifteen minutes to run to the house.

  There was a path that cut through the neighborhood behind the houses. It wasn’t safe for Aubrey to jog alone at night, but he was a man, and he was carrying a weapon. He’d risk it.

  When he made it into his neighborhood, a thought hit him: Aubrey had the house keys.

  Shit. An inconvenience, but a manageable one.

  Aubrey had been upset with him when he wanted to stow a key outside. She didn’t feel safe like that. People always left their keys outside. Over the doorsill, under the mat, under a rock. It was crazy, she said. Anyone with half a brain could find it.

  So he’d gone a step further.

  He hid the key in the garden of the house across the street.

  He warned his neighbor, of course, just in case he ever saw Josh or Aubrey retrieving the key. But no one was home tonight or they were already asleep; the windows were dark. Josh crept to the rock and retrieved his house key. He didn’t know what made him crawl under their porch and push the briefcase into the darkened space underneath the stairs.

  Yes, he did. Bringing that into his house would spoil his life even further. He just needed some time and space to figure out his next steps.

  The little voice inside him had been screaming for the past fifteen minutes: You have to get out of here. He darted back across the street. It was so quiet. Their beautiful big house cast shadows over the street and allowed him to rush across and make it safely to the backyard without being seen.

  He opened the door and scooted inside. Winston came running to meet him.

  He petted him, buried his face in the dog’s silky flank, then went to the kitchen and grabbed a hot dog from the refrigerator. Broke it into pieces, pushed the pill into one quarter. Fed the meat to the dog, bite by bite. The tranquilizer worked quickly; Winston was staggering before they left the kitchen. Josh got him settled near the fireplace.

  He had to go. He had to go now.

  He went into the kitchen, knocked over the chairs, made it look like there’d been a struggle. Lightning flashed outside, thunder on its heels, making him jump.

  He took a scalpel from his emergency first aid kit in the bathroom, went back to the kitchen. He needed to make it look real.

  He sliced the inside of his left arm deeply. He knew just where to cut; the blood began pouring from his arm. He sat on one of the chairs and let it flow.

  When he started getting light-headed, he pulled off his belt and looped it around his shoulder, pulled it tight. Jesus, he had a new appreciation for stabbing victims. This hurt like hell. But the tourniquet worked. The blood stopped gushing from his arm.

  Realized rain was pouring down. Good, that would wash him clean.

  He managed to get to the bathroom, removed the emergency kit. Took a flashlight, and got out of there. He knew he didn’t have much time. He took the bath towel and pressed it to the wound in his arm. Despite the tourniquet, it hadn’t stopped bleeding entirely, and he was feeling sick and dizzy. He set to work. It took almost twenty excruciating minutes to sew up the knife wound.

  Glanced in the kitchen—it certainly looked like he’d lost his life’s blood in there.

  Aubrey. I’m so sorry.

  He bandaged himself up, took a last look at his life, grabbed a blue backpack from the hall closet, made his way across the street. Crawled under the porch. Emptied the contents of the briefcase into the backpack. Dug a hole one-handed and put the leather into the ground. Covered it back up with the dirt and set the old hose reel box, the one he knew they hadn’t touched in years, back on top of the spot. No one would be able to see it. No one would suspect.

  Pulled the backpack over his shoulder. The bleeding was under control. He hurt so badly it took hi
s breath away. He dumped a pain pill in his hand and dry swallowed it. He needed to get away, now.

  He just wasn’t thinking. He was acting on instinct. Fight or flight. And flight was the only course of action he could see before him.

  The path across to Dragon Park was even darker than before. He didn’t know how he was going to get to Aubrey. They’d be watching. He was sure of it. The realization hit him and he had to stop and suck in his breath. There would be no recourse. They were going to hunt him down. He’d shot a man, for Christ’s sake. If the police weren’t already after him, Allen’s crew would be soon, and the dealer’s crew, too.

  Tears pricked at his eyes. He blamed it on the Vicodin. He was well and truly fucked, and didn’t know how to get himself out of it.

  You did this to yourself, Hamilton. You deserve every bad thing that’s going to happen from here on out.

  He only had one option now. He had to disappear.

  A moment later, his phone buzzed with a new text.

  Utterly bored. Come meet me for a drink? I’m in the Jack Daniel’s Lounge.

  Aubrey.

  This time Josh did start to cry, hiccupping tears coupled with maniacal laughter that made his arm scream in pain with each inhalation. She couldn’t know.

  She could not know.

  It was the only way to keep her safe.

  He didn’t allow the thought to form: No, Josh. It’s what’s best for you.

  Using a burner phone, one of two he’d bought and stashed in the backpack, he Googled the Jack Daniel’s Lounge at Opryland. Hit the Call button. The phone rang about fifteen times. A hurried voice answered. “Jack Daniel’s.”

  “Hi there. I have a friend who’s waiting for me. Pretty girl, curly blond hair. Bandage on her lip. Will you make her a gin and tonic, Tanqueray, with a thin slice of lime? I’d like to surprise her.”

  “Yeah, I see her. Sure thing, dude. Hope it works.”

  The man hung up.

  Hope it works indeed.

  Josh needed some time. Time to get away, to get on the road, to get the hell out of Dodge.

  He broke down the burner phone. Took out the battery, buried it in the weeds. Took out the SIM card, crushed it under his heel against a rock, put it in his pocket. Repeated the process with his own phone, destroying it completely.

  Started off, in the dark.

  He knew exactly where he needed to go.

  CHAPTER 66

  Josh

  Today

  Josh watched his wife’s reaction as he told her the story. She winced a few times but stayed silent and still, listening without interrupting.

  She was quiet and reserved, holding back. This was not going the way he wanted. He’d expected a few flashes of anger, but he’d truly thought Aubrey would be so happy to see him that she’d rush into his arms and never want to let go again. She wasn’t jumping in his arms. Instead, she was keeping her distance, on guard and afraid.

  God, she looked just like she did when she was ten, and he was twelve, and he made her that valentine. She’d looked at it with the wariness of a cat about to bolt before its tail was pulled.

  “Did you know about the investigation? The trial? They arrested me, Josh.”

  “Not at the time. I made it to Nags Head. Kevin and Janie’s place. They went to Barbados on their honeymoon, I knew it would be deserted. And I knew where they left the key. I hid out there, and healed. The cut was worse than I intended. I got a fever. I nearly died.”

  That wasn’t the whole truth. He had been aware, of everything. He’d been worried sick when she was arrested, but he knew she couldn’t be found guilty. He’d been so careful. He just couldn’t return to Nashville unless it was absolutely necessary. If she’d been found guilty, he would have turned himself in. But she hadn’t. So he didn’t. But he didn’t think telling her that was going to make much of a difference. He hadn’t played the hero. He wasn’t sure why not.

  “You shot Allen. You thought you killed him?”

  “I had no choice.”

  “How much money did you get away with?”

  “Almost two million dollars. I knew it would buy me some time.”

  “So how did you get to Nags Head?”

  “Walked and hitched. Guy in an eighteen-wheeler picked me up outside of town. I was lucky he never came forward. Everything was predicated on luck. It could have fallen apart anytime.”

  “Right.” She was quiet for a minute. “How’d you get the phone into my house? The police had me under surveillance.”

  “Loose surveillance. They followed Tyler when he left yesterday. I snuck in.”

  “Huh. Why didn’t you just take the bag with you?”

  “I heard your car. I panicked. I should have stayed, should have shown myself. I went out the window before the cops got back. I wanted you to leave with me then, but Chase . . .” He spit out his brother’s name.

  She laughed a little. “All this time, Josh. You could have reached out. You could have told me. You could have trusted me. I’m the only one you could truly trust.”

  “I do trust you. That’s why I’m telling you now, Aubrey. The whole night went wrong, from the very beginning. Nothing went according to plan. This is not what I wanted. This is not what I’d planned on.”

  “You seem to have made the best of it.” Aubrey swept her arm out. “Living in style, plastic surgeries.”

  “I’ve been working on how to get us out of this mess, Aubrey.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She stared out to sea for a few moments. When she looked at him again, her face was shadowed. “Why exactly did you come back, Josh?”

  He reached for her hand. She didn’t resist. “I came back for you, Aubrey. Now that I’ve been declared legally dead, we can start over. Fresh. You have the insurance settlement. We’ll pull the money from the account the moment it hits, transfer it to mine. I know how to do it so no one will know—that’s part of what I’ve been working on. With that money, and what I’ve got left, we have enough to last us the rest of our lives. You don’t have to work, ever again. We can move to South America, live in paradise, swim, make love, read, dance. Have babies. Anything we want to do.”

  “So long as we don’t ever come back.”

  “Well, travel isn’t completely out of the question, though it’s dangerous. We’d have to get you some work done, and—”

  “Did you know about Chase being your brother?”

  Her tone made him wince. “I didn’t until Meghan found the birth certificate.”

  “You were watching her, too?”

  “I’ve been watching all of you. I’ve seen it all.” He couldn’t contain the anger in his voice, the hurt. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t, couldn’t blame her. But he did; it poured out. “I know all about you and Chase. How you fucked him that night. You’d just met him, Aubrey. You didn’t know him at all.”

  She looked at him sadly. “You’re one to talk, Josh. I didn’t know you at all, either.”

  His phone rang, interrupting their argument. Once. Then silence.

  That meant only one thing. He did have friends on this island, friends who were keeping a close watch on the house today while he let his guard down and reconciled with his wife. A quick phone call was the warning sign that someone unwanted had managed to follow them.

  Adrenaline shot through his system. He ran to the closet, grabbed the bag, rushed to Aubrey’s side. He pressed a silver handgun into her hands. Her fingers closed around it like she held guns all the time, natural, comfortable.

  “What the hell is this?”

  “We have to go.”

  “What do you mean? Go where?”

  “We have to leave. Now.”

  “Why don’t you just answer your phone?”

  “Aubrey. I don’t have time to explain. If we don’t leave now, we’re dead.�
�

  A voice sounded behind them.

  “It’s too late for that.”

  CHAPTER 67

  Aubrey

  Today

  Aubrey jerked at the familiar voice. She put her hand behind her, tucked the gun into her waistband.

  Derek Allen advanced into the room. He had a wicked black gun in his right hand.

  Josh immediately stood between Aubrey and Allen. He’d drawn so smoothly Aubrey hadn’t even seen his arm move. He trained the weapon on Allen. The lethal twin eyes pointed at each other.

  “Aubrey, I want you to go down the stairs and out onto the beach. There is a dock there, and a boat. Get in it, get down, and wait for me.” Josh’s voice was calm, collected, and dripping with menace. A stranger’s voice.

  Allen shook his head. “Don’t you know I’d never come here alone? The boat’s covered. You aren’t going anywhere.”

  “Josh?”

  Aubrey’s voice was small, frightened. She hated how weak she sounded. Again, and again, someone was taking the choices away from her. Her whole fucking precious little life, other people had made the decisions for her. This time, it was her turn.

  She could only hope Allen wouldn’t shoot her on sight, just to get her out of the way. She stepped next to Josh, a show of solidarity.

  “Both of you need to put the guns away. We will discuss this like civilized people.”

  Josh growled at her without taking his eyes off Allen. “Go in my bedroom and lock the door. Do it now, Aubrey.”

  “No. I’m sick of you telling me what to do. You two work it out. I’m no longer involved in this situation. I’m going home.”

  She stepped away, turning her back on them both, and went for the stairs.

  The shot rang out before she made it four feet, the wood above her head splintering.

  “Stop. Right. There.” Allen wasn’t fooling around. Aubrey whirled to face him.

  “You bastard. You selfish, horrible bastard. How dare you shoot at me?”

  “I didn’t shoot at you, Aubrey, or else you’d be dead. I just wanted your attention.”