Untold

by Nancy Ann Healy

  Brad chuckled. “What kind of help do you need?”

  “I have a lot of wood out in the old barn. Someone to help me carry it out here. “I’ve done most of the cutting. It’s the piecing together that seems to be tripping me up. Two hands and two feet aren’t fast enough. I called my cousin. Seems he’s tied up with another project. If you’re interested, Shell can give you the address. It’s about a forty-five-minute ride from there; well, unless you drive like Shell. Then it’s half an hour.”

  “You need help today?” he asked.

  “I needed help yesterday if you ask my wife,” Jameson said. “The sooner, the better. I’m happy to kick a couple of hundred bucks your way if you have the time.”

  Brad smiled. “Sure, I have plenty of time.”

  “Great. Shell will give you directions,” Jameson said. “I’d better get back to it.”

  “Sure. I’ll head your way shortly.”

  “Sounds good,” Jameson said.

  Claire smiled. “Shit, you almost made me believe you were building a fort.”

  Jameson moved to the back door and opened it. She pointed a short distance away.

  “Holy shit,” Claire said.

  “I figured it’d be better to have something when he arrived.”

  “When the hell did you do that?” Claire wondered.

  “I got here at about six this morning and started.”

  “By yourself?”

  Jameson chuckled. “You might have given me an excuse to start something I’ve been meaning to.”

  Claire shook her head. Jameson had framed out what looked to be a play castle not far from the back of the house. “You did that in less than six hours?”

  “Been doing it a long time.”

  “We need to meet with the team and position them.”

  Jameson nodded. “Like I said, I know every nook and cranny on this property.”

  “Good,” Claire said. “I looked at your drawing. I’ve got some ideas. You’re the expert. We’ve got less than an hour and fifteen people to position. Let’s take the tour.”

  ***

  Alex pulled her car over and let the Toyota Camry make its final turn out of her sight,

  She pulled out her phone. “He’s coming to you now,” she said.

  “Understood,” Claire replied. “We’re ready,” she promised.

  “As we planned?” Alex asked.

  “Better,” Claire replied. “Jameson really does know every inch of this place. Upstairs in her son’s room,” she told Alex. “Corrigan is up there, Alex. Everything is set up. You should have eyes and ears the whole time.”

  “Is Jameson wearing a wire?”

  “Yeah. Not easy to place in that tank top,” Claire chuckled.

  Alex rolled her eyes. “You’re both taken.”

  “Yeah, doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it.”

  Alex chuckled. She appreciated Claire’s moment of levity.

  “Be careful,” Alex said.

  “Worried about me?” Claire asked lightly.

  Alex sobered. “I’d like to keep my partner around.”

  Claire closed her eyes for a second. Me too. “You too,” she said.

  Alex hung up the call.

  “You okay, Toles?” Agent Johnson asked.

  Alex nodded and began to pull the car back on the road. “Just realizing something,” she said. Be careful, Claire.

  ***

  Jameson wiped some sweat from her brow and started to make her way toward the car pulling up the driveway.

  Claire watched from her position in the top of the barn. Just be cool, JD.

  “Hey,” Jameson waved. Brad stepped out of the car. “Thanks for making the drive.”

  “Thanks for the chance to make a few bucks.”

  “Believe me; it’s well-worth the investment.”

  “Pretty hot out today for May, huh?” he commented. His eyes raked over Jameson’s body.

  Jameson smiled despite feeling her stomach roil. Gross. “It is.”

  “So, you want to show me what you’ve got?” he asked.

  Claire rolled her eyes as Jameson’s conversation unfolded in her ear. “And, people call me obvious?”

  “You are,” Alex’s voice came over the com. “You’re also crude.”

  “Nice of you to join us, Agent Toles,” Claire said.

  “Thanks for the invitation. How’s your view?” Alex asked.

  “From up here, I can see everything out there.”

  “Good. What’s Jameson’s plan?” Alex asked. She watched the computer screen in front of her as Jameson led their suspect to the backyard.

  “She’ll get him working a bit. Hot day—cold beer.”

  “She’s going to bring him in the kitchen?” Alex asked.

  “Nope. Too confined. She’ll bring him to me.”

  Alex sighed. The barn—good plan, Claire. “Good plan, Brackett.”

  “I know.”

  Alex snickered. “Going silent until he moves.”

  “Understood. Buy you one of Jameson’s beers later,” Claire said.

  Alex smiled. “You’re on.”

  ***

  “Any news?” Candace asked.

  “He’s at the house,” Jane told her over the line. “That’s all I know.”

  Candace sighed.

  “They’ll be okay, Candace.”

  “I believe you. For some reason, I still feel sick.”

  Jane understood that emotion. She had felt it more than once as a military wife, a First Lady, and as a CIA operative. She did believe that today’s outcome would find everyone they cared about returning home safely. She also knew that didn’t mean they would return unscathed.

  “Hang in there, Governor. This will pale by comparison one day.”

  “Not a ringing endorsement for the job I’m applying for,” Candace quipped.

  Jane laughed. “You’re the fool who put in the application.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Any time, Madame President.”

  Candace snickered. “From your lips to the Republicans ears.”

  “One can hope. Try and relax. I’ll bet the next call you get is from Jameson.”

  “I hope so.”

  ***

  “How old are these kids?”

  Jameson laughed. “Four and five; why?”

  “Big playhouse.”

  “They won’t stay four and five,” she pointed out.

  He heaved a long 2x4 onto a pile and wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand. “Right, but don’t you think they’ll outgrow it?”

  Jameson finished nailing two boards together and leaned against the structure. “Maybe. I don’t know. I thought I’d outgrown castles and nursery rhymes.”

  Alex sat up. “Holy shit! She’s baiting him.”

  He cocked his head slightly. “You thought you outgrew them?”

  “Yeah,” Jameson said. “Until I started reading them to the kids. I don’t know; it brought back lots of memories, I guess.” She looked at the frame of her creation. “Sometimes, I would finish reading to one of the kids or I’d hear Candace reading to them and I’d find myself remembering my mother doing the same thing with me. Funny.”

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “I thought I’d forgotten all the words and stories; you know?” Jameson said. “Spencer, our grandson—he loves Old King Cole.” She laughed. “Maybe that’s why I wanted to build this. He’s four. He and my son are always making up some story about a castle. I think he wants to be Old King Cole,” she explained.

  Claire grinned. Jameson had told her the same story while Claire got her set up with a microphone. Claire had suggested looking for the opening to tell Brad or Jack or whoever the hell this guy really was the tale. Perfect, JD—perfect.

  He shrugged.

  “What? Not a fan of Old King Cole?” Jameson asked. She directed him to help her hold another board in place while she fastened it.

  “A merry old soul?” he laughed
.

  “That’s what they say,” Jameson said as she hammered a nail in.

  “And his fiddlers three,” he said. “Not every nursery rhyme is a fairy tale,” he told her.

  “Don’t like fairy tales either?” she asked.

  “I love fairy tales. They seldom have the ending you see in a movie.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Jameson replied. “Mine has had a pretty happy ending.” She moved to fasten the other end of the board. “To tell you the truth, I feel a bit like Old King Cole a lot of the time, emphasis on the old—and the merry,” she said. She finished her task and looked at him. “Thanks. It is hot. I think I could use something cold. You? I have some beer in the barn if you’re interested.”

  “Did King Cole drink on the job?” he asked.

  “If I am him—yes,” Jameson replied.

  He nodded.

  Jameson removed her tool belt and directed him to follow her. She had made it her mission to focus on the project at hand. For Jameson, that was building the playhouse. It allowed her to fall into a groove with the man beside her. Now, as they approached their appointed destination, Jameson began to feel the gravity of the situation pressing in. This man was not an extra hand or a comrade. He was a killer; a killer who was likely setting her in his crosshairs as they walked.

  Claire watched as Jameson’s gait slowed slightly. “You’ve got this, JD. Keep going. Just get him in the barn.”

  Alex listened as Claire mused aloud. It was evident that Claire and Jameson had spent time talking. Alex had noticed Jameson’s pace slow as well on the screen. She could only see Jameson’s back now, at least, until Jameson entered the barn. She suspected Claire could see Jameson’s expression as well. There would have been no safe way to give Jameson ears. They could hear and see her every move; Jameson was deaf and blind. She had to trust that Alex and Claire were prepared. “I wish she could hear us.”

  Claire sighed. “She knows we’re here. Time for you to move closer, Toles.”

  “I won’t have eyes,” Alex said.

  “I’ll be your eyes,” Claire promised.

  Alex looked at Jill Corrigan. She nodded. “Go,” she told Alex.

  “It’s Claire’s call,” Alex said. She could almost hear the gasp of surprise of everyone listening. “She says when to move and where. Not before her direction.”

  Corrigan nodded. “That’s you, Agent Brackett.”

  Claire took a deep breath. Alex’s words meant one thing—she trusted Claire. “Understood,” Claire said. “On my call.”

  ***

  Jameson opened the cooler that she had placed in the barn and handed her helper a beer.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  Jameson took a seat on a pile of wood. “You think my King Cole story is silly.”

  He took a long pull from the beer in his hand and looked at the bottle. “No,” he said. “I’m a bit more like Simple Simon.”

  Claire moved carefully toward the ladder she had pulled up to the upper level of the barn. She sprawled out flat, looking through a crack between boards at the figures below. “Stay steady, JD. He’s following those breadcrumbs we talked about.

  “Simple Simon the pie man?” Jameson chuckled before taking a sip from her beer.

  He grinned. “Simple Simon wasn’t the pie man,” he told her. “He met the pie man going to the fair.”

  Jameson nodded. “And, that’s you?”

  “No. Later Simple Simon goes fishing,” he said.

  “Yeah? I don’t remember this one? Does he catch anything?”

  He smiled. “No. He wants to catch the whale. But, all the water he had got was in his mother’s pail.”

  Jameson tried to understand his pun. “Doesn’t he prick his finger or something?”

  “He does. You see, Simple Simon is innocent. He’s a curious boy.”

  “So, you were curious as a kid.”

  He lifted the beer bottle in his hand to his lips again and swallowed greedily. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and offered Jameson a sickening smile. “Curiosity is a funny thing,” he said. “Simon wants to try everything, but at every turn, someone like Old King Cole stops him.”

  “This is it,” Claire said. “Be ready.” He’s telling you, JD. He’s telling you.

  “Claire,” Alex’s voice called cautiously. “He’s cracking.”

  “Trust me,” Claire said.

  Alex took a deep breath. I do. It’s him I don’t trust.

  “How did I end up in your story?” Jameson asked. Claire, I hope you are there.

  He inched closer to her. “How do we all end up in each other’s stories?” He looked her in the eye. “Take Little Tommy Tucker who sings for his supper,” he said. “Or, what about Little Miss Muffet? They all have something in common. Someone takes something from all of them,” he said. “They think they are safe. They’re curious, hopeful, minding their own business until something stops them in their tracks. Tommy Tucker has no knife. He has no wife,” he explains. “Miss Muffet? A spider takes over her tuffet. There are no happy endings,” he said. “We’re all living in The House That Jack Built.”

  “Go!” Claire said.

  He reached behind him and picked up a hammer from the ground. “You’re just the latest resident,” he whispered to Jameson.

  Jameson’s stomach flipped over violently. She anticipated his move and lifted her hand to grab his. Their motion sent them both falling backward, leaving him hovering above her.

  “Fuck the ladder,” Claire said. She jumped through the small opening in the floor. She landed with a small thud on what she imagined was a rolled-up tent. “On the right, Toles. On the right! They’re on the ground!”

  Alex drew her gun and started into the barn. A small army of agents followed on her heels. “Where!” she asked.

  “Behind the woodpile.”

  Jameson struggled to match the strength of the man above her. She caught a glimpse of Claire behind him. Thank God.

  In less than a second, Claire had grabbed the hand holding the hammer. She whisked the man off Jameson and threw him to the ground. “Son of a bitch.” He got up before Claire could draw her weapon and cocked his arm to swing the hammer at her. She ducked.

  Alex ran up behind the man as cries of “FBI!” rang out behind her. Her focus remained squarely on the man. For a split second, she considered firing her weapon. Her foot seemed a better option. She landed a kick squarely to the middle of his back. He tipped and Claire’s fist sent him backward onto the ground with a thud.

  Alex held her gun on him. She shook her head. “FBI,” she said. “John Carter, you are under arrest for the murder of Kaylee Peters…”

  Claire heard Alex reading the suspect his rights. She moved a few short paces to where Jameson was finding her feet. “You okay?”

  Jameson nodded.

  “You did good,” Claire said. Jameson stared at the scene unfolding a few feet away. Claire took hold of her arm. “JD,” she said. “You did good. Go call your wife.”

  Claire’s words finally pulled Jameson’s focus away from the organized chaos in the barn. She nodded. Claire watched her walk away and sighed. An approaching voice caught her attention.

  “The legend,” he said when Alex spun him around, his hands cuffed behind his back. Alex stared at him passively. He laughed. “What’s the matter, Agent Toles? Ding Dong Bell,” he said. “How’d you like the well, pussycat?”

  Alex’s expression remained unchanged. “Your rhymes are over, Carter. We know everything.”

  He laughed again. “You haven’t begun.”

  ***

  “Candace?”

  “Jameson? Are you all right?”

  “Other than really sweaty, I’m fine.”

  “Alex?”

  “They got him.”

  “Jameson?”

  Jameson closed her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it—not right now.”

  “I’m coming home.”

  “Candace…”


  “Don’t bother,” Candace said. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

  Jameson set her phone on the table and sighed.

  “Hey,” Claire poked her head in the kitchen.

  “Hey.”

  Claire stepped in. “Afraid I’ll have to take a raincheck on that shot,” she said. Jameson smiled weakly.

  Claire took a deep breath. It wasn’t in her nature to reassure people. She had seen the hint of ghosts in Jameson’s eyes. And, Claire Brackett knew a thing or two about ghosts. While Claire was sure that the conversation in the barn had unsettled Jameson, she suspected the experience had conjured old demons and fears.

  “I told you; you did good,” Claire said.

  “Glad it worked.”

  “Listen, JD, shit like this? Dealing with people like that asshole in the barn? It messes with you. He’s not just sick,” Claire said. “He’s an asshole without a conscience. I get it. You were out there just working for two hours—talking. You know why you’re there, but he makes you forget for a minute. You think maybe, just for a second he’s not the guy you know he is. Then, just when you think he’s someone else, he shows you his true colors. I’ve lived it,” Claire said.

  Jameson sighed. “How could I be so comfortable?”

  “How do you think he managed to lure all those women?”

  “Hey,” Alex peeked inside. “Sorry. We gotta’ roll,” she said to Claire.

  “I’ll be right there,” Claire replied.

  Alex nodded and offered Jameson an understanding smile.

  Claire waited until Alex had shut the door to continue her thought. “Killers are people, JD. The worst of them are the most charming. It’s what makes them sinister. You held your own. You looked him in the eye. That takes more than guts. It takes resolve. Don’t second guess anything you said or did.”

  Jameson nodded. “I don’t know how people end up like that.”

  “People will say they’re sick. Maybe. Maybe someone fucked with their life at some point. That’s not what makes them kill for pleasure.”