by Alicia Scott
“I’ve never been so cold for so long,” she whispered through chattering teeth.
Jack just nodded. She could see that his fingers were turning blue. He couldn’t get his shirt to button.
“Here let me.”
“No, I got it.”
“Dammit, Jack, let me!” Her fierce tone stopped him. She seized the opportunity to button the soggy material all the way to his neck, then began to briskly rub his arms. The shirttails hung to the top of his thighs, but his legs were bare, wheat blond hair standing up like a hissing cat’s. Under any other circumstances, he would’ve looked comic. Now, his half-dressed, half-drowned state filled her with panic. He was dangerously close to succumbing to exposure.
“You’re not going to give up on me, Jack Stryker,” she whispered fiercely.
“I would never do such a thing to a lady,” he promised and held her hand.
They made it to the mountain road. They flagged down Mr. Chouder in his beat-up pickup truck, who was too polite to ask about Jack’s missing pants and too smart to question why they were handcuffed together. From the old school, he blasted the truck’s decrepit heater and talked politely of the weather as he drove. Jack directed him to Stone and Jessica’s house. He wanted to know if his partner was okay. And it was probably the only location where he knew they would be safe. Twenty-four hours after their ordeal had begun, Jack and Josie still didn’t know who was behind the mysterious blonde, nor why. They needed rest. They needed food. They needed answers.
Mr. Chouder finally pulled up to the house. He merely said, “You take care of yourself, Miss Reynolds.” He eyed Jack meaningfully.
“I understand, sir,” Jack said, trying to appear dignified and somber as he stood on the roadside in his white B.V.D.s and buttoned-up dress shirt.
Mr. Chouder looked at him one last time, openly skeptical, then finally drove away.
Josie began to giggle. The traitorous laughter started in her belly and bubbled out of her throat. She was pretty sure she’d lost it. Jack was rapping firmly on the door, half-naked and scowling with wounded dignity.
By the time Jessica answered the door, Josie was giggling so hard she couldn’t talk. She looked at Jessica’s widening eyes. She looked at Jack, standing with his arms on his hips as if he showed up every day in just his underwear, and she laughed so hard she had to sit down on the porch, rocking back and forth.
In the distance, she heard Jessica speaking to Jack. Stone was at the police station. Stone was all right. Stone had been looking for them both all night.
And then Jessica’s gaze was on her, but Josie couldn’t stop laughing and rocking back and forth.
“It’s all right now,” Jessica said softly. “You’ll be fine here. You’ll be safe.”
Then Jack’s arm was curling around her shoulders and she stopped laughing and began to cry.
* * *
An hour later, freshly showered and weighed down by warm clothes, Josie and Jack sat at the kitchen table, spooning hot chicken noodle soup into their mouths with the restraint of four-year-olds.
“Cwwakrs,” Josie mumbled with her mouth full, hand thrust out for the crackers. Jessica obediently slapped a roll of saltines into her palm.
“Chwwse,” Jack demanded through a mouthful of crackers. Jessica sliced a quarter of a brick more. Josie and Jack fell on the slices like cave people who’d starved all winter. Beyond dignity, they both swiped at the last piece, grappled for it fiercely, then lost it to Jessica, who was still moving faster than they were. She diplomatically cut it into two pieces, handing them each half before they inflicted bodily harm. She was still surprised they hadn’t choked to death on the crackers. At this point, it appeared they were forgoing such social graces as chewing.
Of course, it wasn’t every day a woman had a young couple sitting handcuffed at her kitchen table. Jack had managed to break the chain linking the metal bracelets using the wire cutters from Stone’s tool kit, but he hadn’t been able to open the bracelets decorating each of their wrists. At least breaking the chain permitted them to finally strip off their soaked clothes and don new ones. Josie was wearing Jessica’s turtleneck, sweater and jeans. She also had a blanket on her lap. Jack was wearing Stone’s turtleneck sweater, a pair of sweatpants and two pairs of thick wool hiking socks. The color was finally returning to his cheeks.
They had just begun scraping the bottom of their bowls when Stone finally burst through the front door.
Three pairs of eyes met him instantly. Jessica’s gaze softened instinctively, her nerves tingling a bit as they always did when she saw her husband. Jack’s face brightened with immediate relief, his muscles finally relaxing when he saw that his partner was indeed safe. Josie’s ears picked up, her gaze earnestly searching the newcomer for signs of grocery bags. She was still hungry.
“Thank God,” Stone said at last, speaking for everyone in the kitchen.
Josie gave up on him; he obviously hadn’t stopped at the grocery store on the way home from the police station. “More soup?” She held out her bowl hopefully, dragging her handcuff into sight.
Jessica sighed and rose to search her cupboards, which were rapidly being depleted. Stone gazed at the handcuff on Josie’s wrist in shock. “What the hell…?”
“Stryker did it,” Josie said promptly, sitting back when it became apparent more food was on the way. “He got it into his drugged skull that I was trying to kill him, so he handcuffed me to him.”
She looked down at their wrists and abruptly scowled. Finally washed, clothed and fed, she had time to truly contemplate the damage. Her wrist sported dark purple bruises and deeply cut rings. Some of the cuts had begun to bleed around the edges from her fresh burst of movement.
“We should get the cuffs off,” Jack said softly. “We probably both need to get our wrists wrapped.”
Stone was already moving. He took a key out of his pocket and in one deft movement released both cuffs. Josie’s metal bracelet fell dully on the kitchen table. Her arm rose a notch before she caught it, feeling weightless now that it had been freed. She looked at Jack and saw that he felt as strange as she did. An odd awkwardness abruptly fell between them. The handcuffs had joined them for the last twenty-four hours. Now the last vestige of their union was gone. They were no longer a team. They sat at the kitchen table as two free individuals.
Jack cleared his throat. He looked down at his empty soup bowl.
Jessica retrieved a first aid kit and got them through the next few moments by passing out antiseptic and bandages. Josie picked up the yellow tube of healing ointment, not sure what to do.
“Let me,” Jack said. He cradled her forearm gently in his hand and his touch was light, soothing. It was all right, he told her with his hand. They were all right. One step at a time.
“I looked for you all night,” Stone said abruptly. “We’ve had dogs out, the volunteer firefighters. God, Jack, where have you been?”
“Underground.” Briefly, Jack recapped events. “And you? How did you get away?”
Stone grimaced. “I didn’t. She grazed me with one of her darts and I went nighty-night. When I came to, she was gone, you were gone. Hell, there was just me and the squad car and one helluva headache. I radioed for backup immediately, but you guys must have had a solid head start. I can tell you one thing. That woman knows how to cover her tracks.”
“She’s gotta be a professional,” Jack stated. “The way she moved, the way she was armed. Someone hired her, Stone. Someone paid her to hit Olivia, then paid her more to frame Josie for the crime. It was someone high up, Stone. Someone who could plant stories of false detours on police radios.”
Stone frowned. Like any good cop, he didn’t like conspiracy theories or exotic assassins. Police work was about facts and statistics, not folklore. The numbers said the majority of murders were committed by someone the victim knew. So if you think the estranged husband did it, he probably did. If you think the mayor’s friend did it because she was angling for the mayor’s job,
you were probably right. But Stone had seen the blond hit woman for himself. Moreover, he’d caught the scent of gardenias that surrounded her like a cloud.
“Think about it,” Jack said. “Those first darts she fired weren’t fatal, they just knocked a person out. So I fall unconscious, drive us off the road. Best case scenario is that Josie dies in the accident and the case is closed. We think Olivia’s killer is dead and no one is the wiser.”
“But who?” Stone persisted, still shaking his head.
“That’s what we have to figure out. Somebody with money, somebody with power. Maybe the person was hired by the infiltrating drug gangs. Maybe one of the CEOs of the strip mining companies has particularly aggressive business practices. Maybe it is personal. You know, there’s a lot about Olivia we just don’t know.” He hesitated, glancing at Josie.
She shrugged. “She didn’t tell me anything, Stryker. Like I said, we respected each other’s privacy. My impression was that her first marriage was unhappy, her husband’s death not completely a bad thing. But she struggled a lot back then. Her oldest son ran away. She was a strong woman, a smart woman, a generous woman. But yes, I think she had a lot of regrets.”
Jack frowned and rubbed his temples. “In other words, we’re back at the beginning. Well, someone hired Blondie, because she sure as hell isn’t doing this for the cheap thrills.” He pinned his gaze on Stone. “You didn’t tell anyone I was here, right?”
“Sure, Jack, I broadcasted it through the whole town. I followed your directions. I told people I was meeting my lovely wife for lunch and here I am. Just in time to rescue her from your insatiable appetites, I see.”
“They’ve reduced the kitchen to bones,” Jessica agreed.
“We should leave,” Jack said abruptly. Josie looked at him with mild surprise, as did Stone. Jack’s face had taken on that tight look she knew too well.
“Jack—”
“No, listen to me. We didn’t die in the car accident. We survived and we saw her. She’ll come looking for us.”
“She thinks we’re dead,” Josie protested.
“Not for long. She’s a professional, she’s thorough. We saw that for ourselves. I don’t think she’ll assume anything until she’s attended our funeral. I bet after a bit, she dove for our bodies. Maybe she even went back and got gear for it. She won’t just walk away, Josie. You know it, too.”
Josie sagged in her chair. She remembered the cold, expressionless look on the woman’s face and she knew Jack was right. The woman wasn’t like a mere mortal. More like a robot, programmed to kill and relentless until that mission was accomplished. Slowly, she raised her gaze and looked at Stone.
“You saw her, too,” she said quietly.
Stone stilled. In the silence, Jessica sucked in her breath as her gaze focused on her husband.
“You should go away,” Jack said immediately. “Take that honeymoon you’ve always promised Jessica. Just get out of Grand Springs.”
“No. I should go with you.”
“And Jessica? Who will watch her, Stone? Who will look out for her?”
Stone’s gaze fell on his new wife. They had faced danger together before, but that was when Stone had been held hostage by a bank robber. Then the threat had been against him. He had known how scared Jessica had been, but he’d never truly understood it until this moment, when he looked at her and realized his job had just put her in danger.
“Go away,” Jack suggested softly. “Take Jessica out of town. I still have the advantage. No one knows where I am or even if I am really alive. I’ll find her, Stone. I’ll fix it.”
Josie’s lips thinned. “We’ll find her.”
“Now, Josie…” he began soothingly.
She cut him off by slamming her fist against the tabletop. Jessica and Stone both flinched. “Don’t ‘now, Josie’ me, Jack Stryker! You’re doing what you always do and you know it—you’re taking the whole world on your shoulders. Well, you can’t fix this one alone. This kind of affects me, too. There’s the minor detail that my best friend was killed by this woman. Then I lost my reputation and career to her. Oh, yes, and in the last twenty-four hours I almost lost my life. Well that’s it!” Her voice rose a fierce octave. “I’m not losing anything else to Super Chick, and that includes you!”
Josie glared at him with all the force and fury she could muster. At the other end of the table, Jessica began politely clapping.
“That was super,” she said. “You two are perfect for each other.”
Josie didn’t take her gaze off Jack, though. She meant what she said. They had been partners for the last twenty-four hours because of the handcuffs, and it had worked. She didn’t want to give that up because the metal bracelets were gone. She loved this man. Love meant teamwork. Love meant sharing. Love meant allowing the person to help you.
Jack, however, looked away. Straight Arrow Stryker, still standing alone.
Josie’s eyes began to burn.
“Look,” Stone said after a moment, breaking the awkward silence, “there’s a lot to wade through here and most of us have been up all night. It’s almost afternoon, both of you need sleep. Stay until tomorrow morning. Jessica and I will man the fort while you rest. I’ll talk to the chief—”
“Don’t tell him where we are—”
“I won’t tell him, Jack. Give me some credit. But… Your mom’s not doing too well, Jack,” Stone said quietly. “You know how she is. Basically, you’re listed MIA. She’s…she’s upset.”
Jack closed his eyes. The tension was etched painfully into his haggard face. “I’ll call her—”
“Enough,” Josie said. She stood abruptly and took his hand. “We have been on the run all night and have come within an inch of being killed. You need sleep, Jack, and rest. Stone will call your mother. Stone and Jessica will stand guard. I am taking you to bed.” She threaded her fingers through his. “Trust the people you love,” she said quietly. “Believe in us, Jack, the way we believe in you.” She drew him out of his chair gently. His face was abruptly haggard. He looked at Stone.
“We’re fine,” Stone reiterated. “We have an APB out on the blond woman, and I’m going to ask for extra patrols around the house. I’ve been in tight spots before, Jack, and been all right. Now, you listen to Josie. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”
Josie took that as a dismissal and led Jack down the hall. The news about his mother seemed to have taken the last reserves from him. He didn’t protest as she led him into the guest room. He stood silently in the middle while she closed the door, then lowered the blinds and cast the room into shadows.
“Josie,” he said after a moment. “Thank you.” She stripped off his clothes and tucked him into bed. A moment later, after casting off her own clothes, she joined him between the sheets.
As always, she was amazed by the feel of his bare skin against hers. She was enthralled by the heat of his skin, the smooth, delicate texture of his back. She curled up around him spoon-style. She stroked his hair, then his cheek, then his arm, until she felt the last of the tension drain out of him. He brushed her hand. He turned, and threaded his fingers slowly through her hair.
“I love you, Jack Stryker,” she said.
There was a ponderous moment when she felt his gaze glitter in the dark. Then his lips brushed hers, again, again and again. Until suddenly he was fierce and he was needy and he held her like a drowning man, letting her see his vulnerability, letting her share his load. They lay tangled together for a long, long time, savoring the embrace. Josie’s eyes began to drift shut. Right before she fell asleep, she heard Jack whisper, “I love you, too, Josie.” And everything was all right. They slept tightly intertwined, not letting each other go.
* * *
She dove down once, twice, then three times. She combed the endless bottom of the silty darkness until her lungs burned painfully and her leg muscles hurt as she kicked. She felt around with her hands, trusting them to guide her as they had so many times before.
&nb
sp; Patiently, resiliently, she dove and searched, dove and searched.
The third time, instead of finding two clasped bodies, she found the tunnel, and Joanna Jackson knew her quarry had escaped. She surfaced once, took another deep gulp of air, and then as naturally as a seal or otter, dove back into the oily blackness, rocketing gracefully down to the tunnel and kicking her way through. She came up in the front half of a lake. Five minutes later, she found the trampled area by the embankment where two people had struggled to put on clothes before finally stepping away.
It was full afternoon now. The sun hammered against her face until she could see each vein pumping blood across the thin layer of her eyelids. She replaced her flashlights on her utility belt. She checked the quantity and types of darts she had left.
She walked until she found a soft field of fresh grass and waving dandelions cradled by a silent forest. She curled up in a warm beam of sunlight, and like a panther, she slept.
In her dreams she saw her father, she saw her uncle. She pictured arsenic-laden birthday cakes. She remembered the first thrust of the insulin-loaded needle and the look of genuine surprise that had crossed the old man’s face. Her dreams grew bigger, filling with violent reds and furious purples. She dreamed of the plague. She dreamed of people clutching their throats and screaming and dying from unknown agents they couldn’t see, smell or taste.
She woke up. The dreams were safely tucked away again in the back of her mind where they weren’t allowed to come out to play. She adjusted her utility belt, focused on the matter at hand and prepared for round two. She had a new plan.
Chapter Thirteen
“Okay, I’ll go first.” Jack jostled Josie aside with his shoulder, his hand closing over the front doorknob. His face was grim, his body poised for action.
“Do you really think she’s here?”
“No, but we can’t be too careful.” He turned the knob, but it refused to budge. The door was still locked. They both grimaced.