“Give me a minute. Don’t hang up.”
“I won’t.”
There were several clicks as he put her on hold then silence. Jackie looked around and shivered. The cold, damp clothes against her skin was becoming unbearable. More clicks were heard as he came back on the line.
“His name is Bogart,” Monroe informed her over the phone. “He’ll be there in fifteen minutes and flash the headlights so you know it’s him.”
“Bogart?” She knew she wasn’t in any condition to question Monroe’s judgment in acquaintances at the moment, but it slipped out.
“He’s not someone you’d take home to mother, but I trust him,” he replied, answering her silent question. “He’ll take you wherever you want to go. I’d come and get you myself, but I’m, well, indisposed.”
With Monroe, that could mean just about anything. The last thing she wanted was for him to attempt to reach her. She had to move and couldn’t wait that long, especially if he was where she thought he was.
“Monroe, I need to vanish,” she informed him firmly and with seriousness.
There was another strange silence.
“I can’t get back into the country for at least two days,” he announced with the disgust evident in his voice. “Most of my best contacts are going to be hard to reach. I’ll have to find less ethical contacts for you. I know people who can help, but you’re going to need money.”
“I can get money.”
“Call me when you’re safe,” he informed her. “I’ll have your next contact by then. With any luck, we can meet up at Casa d’Monroe in a few days.”
She knew that was code for his house on an island just off the coast of Florida. “Thanks, Monroe.” She hesitated then said softy, “You know I love you.”
“I know,” came the gentle reply. “Stay safe.”
Jackie disconnected the call, wiped her prints from the phone, and tossed it alongside the building. She took a moment to wipe the tears from her eyes then hurried back to the safety of the dark woods.
†
Holden stood on the dock by the boathouse alongside the portly, country sheriff. Both watched as the small speedboat was towed toward the dock. The bloody handprint on the boat’s side was clearly visible. Holden held his breath, shut his eyes, and shook his head with obvious disgust.
“A couple in the house heard gunshots,” the sheriff announced then nodded toward the boat on the lake as it approached them. “They saw the boat slowing across the lake with no one inside.” He eyed the bloody handprint and frowned as well. “Looks like someone went overboard.”
“I need fingerprints,” Holden announced firmly while scanning the approaching boat and the blood in particular. “I want to know whose blood that is on the side, and I’ll need divers in this section of the lake.”
“Divers? Do you know where you are?” the sheriff suddenly demanded. “You’re in the middle of backwoods nowhere. Fingerprints we can do. Divers ain’t exactly common around these parts. Nothing to see much under there but lawn chairs and beer bottles.”
“I’ll make some phone calls,” Holden announced with limited patience. “Just get some boats with lights out there for now. If she’s floating around alive out there, I want her found. If she’s dead, I want her brought back to life.”
The sheriff gave him a dumbfounded look. He wasn’t winning any points with the country cop. Holden removed his cell phone and pressed ‘Pam’ on the call screen. The phone immediately went to voicemail. He frowned and disconnected the call. As some local fishermen tied the boat to the dock, Holden scanned the interior. He leaped into the boat and picked up Pam’s gun by the barrel with his fingertips. He smelled the gun and appeared curious. He looked around while in thought, catching the attention of the sheriff as he ordered his men to search the area with boats. He finally looked at Holden.
“Something curious?”
He didn’t look at the sheriff but instead stared at the boat. He shook his head while remaining distant. “This is one of the U.S. Marshal’s guns. She must have had this on her, but it wasn’t fired,” he announced more to himself. He studied the gun a moment longer. “In fact, the safety is still on.”
“Maybe she didn’t know how to switch off the safety,” the sheriff remarked.
Holden looked at the sheriff and snorted a laugh. “Trust me; she knows how to operate a firearm.” He shook his head while remaining deep in thought. “She’d managed to elude several trained killers and even took one out with a marshal’s gun, yet this gun wasn’t fired. That means she had a second gun at some point. How would a resourceful young woman like that with a loaded gun be ambushed in a boat in the middle of a lake? Something doesn’t seem right.”
Holden looked toward the woods. The sheriff stared at his profile with a look void of intelligence. Holden turned back toward the sheriff and appeared curious.
“How far of a walk is it to that country tavern?”
“Twenty maybe thirty minutes,” the sheriff replied. “Depending on how thirsty you are, I suppose. What? You honestly think she survived an attack like that and decided to go grab herself a beer at the tavern?”
Holden inhaled deeply and scratched his brow. It was obvious the country cops in the small, tourist town weren’t hired according to their IQ.
Chapter Twelve
Jackie remained hidden within the woods and closely watched the tavern while huddled by the base of a large tree. A newer truck pulled up to the tavern. It no sooner stopped when the headlights flashed. Jackie felt a rush of relief that Monroe’s contact had arrived. A ruggedly handsome country boy in his late twenties, Bogart, got out of the truck and leaned casually against the hood while looking around with the appearance of disinterest. She straightened alongside her tree, realizing her legs had stiffened considerably, when Holden’s vehicle pulled up to the tavern. Jackie tensed with alarm and watched the federal agent. Her heart immediately pounded. She didn’t dare move in fear he might see her hiding in the shadows. Holden walked past Bogart and headed inside the noisy tavern. Bogart casually watched him until he disappeared inside then opened the passenger door of his truck without even looking at her. Had Bogart seen her? It didn’t matter; that was her cue. Jackie darted from the woods and jumped into the truck. Bogart casually shut the door behind her, rounded the truck, and didn’t even acknowledge her as he got inside. He started the truck and drove away from the tavern and Agent Falcone.
Jackie shivered while clinging to her chilled arms. She was relieved they were safely on their way, putting distance between both the feds and the governor’s men. Bogart barely eyed her, turned the heat on, and then nodded to the backseat.
“Clothes are in the duffle bag.”
Bogart wasn’t much for conversation, and he certainly didn’t seem the curious type.
“Thanks.”
Jackie climbed into the back and opened the bag. The thought of dry clothes was more important than the notion of changing in the backseat with possible prying eyes. She’d save modesty for another day.
“Ironic that our mutual friend failed to mention you were attractive,” Bogart remarked simply.
She didn’t bother looking at him. “Probably because talk like that got his ass kicked.”
Bogart grinned in response. Jackie removed her wet clothes as quickly as possible and slipped into the dry ones. Bogart casually tilted the rearview mirror for a better view of the PG-13 show in the backseat.
“Where are we going?” he asked and finally minded the road. “Monroe was vague as usual.”
“I need to get home to Vernon Heights.”
“Vernon Heights?” he suddenly asked and glanced at her through the mirror. “That’s six hours away.”
“Take me as far as you can,” she announced. “I’ll manage the rest of the way.”
“That’s not the deal, sweetheart,” he said firmly. “Monroe said to take you where you needed to go.” Bogart groaned softly, smirked, and tilted his head. “So we’re going to Vernon
Heights.” He was silent a moment then appeared curious. “Was the fed looking for you?”
She looked at him through the rearview mirror from her position in the back. “You knew he was a fed?”
“The stench of arrogance and the signature suits are a dead giveaway.”
Jackie climbed back into the front, passenger seat and belted herself in. At least changing into dry clothing made her a little more comfortable, but the horror of what happened at the lake house still haunted her.
Bogart indicated the cut on her arm with a nod. “There’s a first aid kit under the seat.”
Jackie removed the first aid kit from under the seat and cleaned the cut on her forearm. It stung more than she thought it would. Considering she’d been shot just last month, she didn’t think a little cut would hurt as much in comparison.
“Fed do that?”
She snorted a soft laugh. “No, that was self-inflicted. I needed a diversion.”
“Hmm, classic,” he said with a charming grin. “If you were looking to fake your own death, I hope you remembered to wipe your prints off the weapon.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Sexy and smart.” He glanced at her and appeared curious. “Did you ice someone?”
“The other way around,” she replied. “If that fed catches me, he’s going to put me back into protective custody. I may as well be sitting in a kill box.”
“You need to disappear.”
She groaned softly and rested her head against the seat. “It’s on my ‘to do’ list.”
“Well, if anyone can make you disappear, it’s Monroe.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
†
It was a little after one in the morning. The duo had been on the road nearly four hours with another two hours remaining on their journey. Jackie feared falling asleep. Despite the fact that the governor’s men couldn’t possibly track her at the moment, she just couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that someone was following them. She finally curled into the corner of the passenger seat and shut her eyes only for a moment. She barely heard Bogart say something about needing coffee. When her eyes opened, she saw the out-of-the-way diner with a few pick-up trucks parked outside. She was alone in Bogart’s truck. Jackie suddenly straightened and felt alarm rush through her. What if Bogart wasn’t trustworthy? Could he be selling her out? No, Monroe trusted him, and that was good enough for her. She shifted in her seat and double-checked the gun neatly tucked down the back of her pants. She felt safer knowing it was still there. When the truck door opened, Jackie jumped with surprise and felt her hand go for the hidden gun. Bogart climbed in and handed her a cup of coffee and a muffin. She didn’t think she was hungry, but her stomach disagreed the moment she saw the fresh muffin.
“Saw you on the news,” Bogart teased while grinning. “Tourist disappears on Lake Harmony.”
She cocked her head and stared at him with some surprise. “They didn’t mention me by name?”
“Sweetheart, I don’t even know your name, and I’d like to keep it that way,” he informed her. “I don’t need the feds crawling up my ass with a microscope. They don’t need added reason to come after my ass.”
“Why would he withhold my name?” she questioned aloud although more to herself. “If the governor thinks I’m dead, he’ll stop hunting me.”
“Who’s to say,” Bogart replied and started the truck. “Those feds are a crafty bunch of bastards. They do everything for a reason. Even when they take a piss it’s by the book.” He suddenly grinned and appeared pleased with himself. “Probably why they’ve never caught me. I don’t play by no book.”
Despite their limited conversation on their four-hour journey, Jackie was getting a pretty good read on Bogart. He played a dumb hick, but he was smart--borderline genius smart. She’d met plenty of men like him in her father’s platoon and around the base. He was excessively charming when he needed to be, but she was almost positive he’d turn into a rattlesnake if provoked. She found it odd she liked him. As they pulled onto the main road, he became somewhat chatty. The added caffeine may have helped.
“Another two hours and we’ll be entering Vernon Heights,” he announced. “I’ll be needing directions to your place.”
“It’s easy to find,” she replied.
“You know, if either fellas following you suspect you’re alive, they’ll be watching your house,” Bogart informed her and raised his brows. “Could be dangerous showing up at your own place like that.”
“I’m a little smarter than I look,” she replied. “I’ll case the place before I go inside.”
He chuckled softly. “Someone sure raised you right,” Bogart said then eyed her several times while driving. “I may have to stick around just to see how this all plays out.”
“I’ve already taken up enough of your time,” she replied and sipped her coffee. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“It’s not like I have any place else to be,” he retorted. “I’m sort of freelance at the moment.”
She eyed him and held back her smile. “Freelance what?”
Bogart glanced at her and chuckled at the comment. “That’s classified, sweetheart.”
“Can I assume you’ve cased a place before?” she asked with a teasing look.
“I’m offended you’d even ask.” He alternated looking at her and the road. “I’ve been breaking the rules since I was in kindergarten,” he announced proudly.
“It could be dangerous just being caught in my company,” she reluctantly informed him then frowned at the thought.
Bogart eyed her lustfully. “If you’re trying to turn me on, it’s working.”
Jackie couldn’t help but smile at his lust for danger but avoided looking at him. She wasn’t playing that game. Although she didn’t doubt he was amazing in bed, casual sex wasn’t really her thing, and this wasn’t the time or place. As silence overtook them, she allowed the events of the night play out in her mind. She fought the tears welling in her eyes. She kept thinking about Pam, Phil, and Carter. Their families were going to be devastated. It was troubling that three highly trained U.S. Marshals were taken out so easily. How the governor’s men even found them was a mystery to her. It didn’t seem possible. How far was the governor’s reach? The thought frightened her.
†
Jackie’s split-level home was nestled in a quiet development with other charming homes in what would be considered an upper middle class neighborhood. Despite her absence, the yard was well manicured. The home appeared to be in excellent condition, and it was obvious someone had been tending to the yard and garden on her behalf. It was after three in the morning and streetlights dimly lit the small development. The homes remained fairly dark as most of the residents were asleep, which worked to their advantage. Bogart’s truck was parked two homes away along the curb. There were few vehicles parked on the street, since most of the homes had large driveways. Remaining inconspicuous was a challenge, even for Bogart. Jackie and Bogart watched the house from within his truck for nearly forty minutes in silence. No one appeared to be casing the house, apart from Bogart. He inhaled deeply and finally looked at her.
“I’m going to check it out,” he announced. “I’ll let you know if it’s clear.”
“Are you sure?” she asked with apprehension. “Maybe we should wait a few more minutes.”
Bogart opened his door and gave her a serious look. “I’ve had four cups of coffee,” he informed her with added urgency. “Waiting isn’t an option.”
Jackie reluctantly nodded and watched him leave the safety of the truck and head toward her house. Home never looked so good, but it somehow seemed foreign to her after her lengthy absence. Her father had bought the house, knowing she needed some sense of normalcy. They had spent most of her childhood base hopping. When he’d finally gotten to a point in his career where he didn’t have to move from country to country, and she was old enough to spend time at home alone, he opted to buy the house for a stable envi
ronment. She was possibly the only sixteen-year-old living alone months at a time, but she was trustworthy and excessively mature. Besides, she was never really alone. There was no shortage of her father’s military buddies who seemed to show up and invite themselves to stay for extended periods of time. She knew most of them and didn’t mind the company.
Bogart finally reached the house, walked the entire perimeter, and then peered through several windows. Jackie was grateful for the darkness and hoped none of the neighbors were peeking out their windows at the late hour. He made a convincing burglar. He walked onto the porch and knocked on the door. Not surprising, no one answered. He looked back to the truck and nodded. Jackie quickly jumped from the truck and hurried to join him on the porch. She removed the hidden key from beneath the porch swing and unlocked the door. Bogart entered behind her.
Chapter Thirteen
Jackie immediately headed for her father’s study as Bogart darted into the nearby bathroom. She crossed the room, which was dimly lit by streetlights shining through the part in the curtains. Jackie closed the curtains then turned on the smaller light on top of the desk. She wasted little time approaching the cabinet beneath a small bar and opened the door to reveal a hidden safe. She quickly unlocked the safe and removed a large amount of cash and a little black book. She placed the marshal’s gun in the safe and shut it. Jackie stuffed the cash and book into a duffle bag from the nearby closet. As she approached the desk, she eyed a photo of her and her father along with seven men from his team. She picked up the photo and stared at it.
It was taken seven years ago on New Year’s Eve. She was eighteen and was graduating high school that spring. Her father clung to her on her right side, and a baby-faced, fashionably dressed man clung to her on the left. Monroe looked so young back then. Abbott was leaning on Monroe’s shoulder, holding two fingers up behind his head. Classic Abbott. Behind her was a face she hadn’t seen in a long time. Zach had his head on her shoulder between her and Monroe, almost as if attempting to keep them apart. His twisted smile was a reminder of how devious he could be--and usually was. She traveled back to that day and the sound of laughter echoing from their living room. The men from her father’s team had secretly gotten her drunk beneath her father’s nose. Naturally, he knew what they were doing, but he pretended he didn’t. It was the best New Year’s Eve she’d known. Her father and his team made it home alive and spent the entire week at their house. It was the best gift she’d ever received.
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