by Gary Parker
She dropped a slice of turkey onto Connie’s bread.
“Mustard is in the refrigerator,” she said. “Or mayonnaise, whichever you prefer. You want some chips?”
Nodding, Connie pulled out the mustard. A couple of minutes later, they placed their sandwiches on paper plates, carried them to a small table by the refrigerator and sat down. Connie nibbled on her sandwich.
“How did you get back with your grandfather?” she asked.
Sandra munched on a chip. “He called me about a year ago,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “I hadn’t heard from him since the day he left. He said he had cancer, didn’t have long to live.”
Connie stopped chewing, trying to recall last spring. “Did he call Jack too?” she asked.
Sandra shook her head.
“Why you and not Jack?”
“Easy, I had never married, had no family to hold me back.
I could go to him without worrying about anyone else.”
“But you told Luke Tyler your name was Lunsford. That’s not a married name?”
Sandra smiled. “No, it’s not. I thought a false name might help if he started searching for me. And, I didn’t know if you would put two and two together if I told him my name was Richards.”
“I doubt if I would have been that smart. Why didn’t you marry?”
A scowl darted across Sandra’s face. Sandra swallowed a bite of sandwich and gritted her teeth. “That’s personal,” she said. “And it’s not important.”
Connie wanted to press but knew from the set of Sandra’s jaw that she couldn’t. She let it pass and returned to the subject at hand. “So Justin called you. Told you he was sick. Wasn’t he still worried about putting you in danger?”
“Sure, but he said it wouldn’t matter soon. If we could stay out of sight for just a few more months, the chase would end. I could go back to my normal life, and no one would know the difference. In the meantime, he needed my help.”
“His sickness?”
Sandra smiled. “Oh, no, nothing like that. Justin never worries about that. He’s a man of Christian faith, came to that commitment right after he entered the protection program. Death doesn’t worry him.”
Before thinking, Connie blurted, “What about your faith?”
Sandra shrugged but didn’t seem to take offense. “Can’t say I have any. Not hostile to it, just haven’t seen much proof of the kind of God Justin trusts. I’ve seen too much pain to believe in all that ‘God is love’ stuff.”
Connie started to probe, but Sandra shook her head as if in warning and she held back. Later, she promised herself, she would ask Sandra about the pain she had seen.
“If not his illness, then why did Justin contact you?”
Sandra placed her sandwich on her plate and wiped her mouth with a paper towel. “Easy. He came across some information he had wanted for years.”
The half-eaten sandwich in Connie’s hand began to shake.
She kept her eyes on Sandra, her heart notching up its pace. For a couple of beats, she waited on Sandra to continue. When she didn’t, Connie pressed her.
“What kind of information?”
“Information to convict the men who killed Bill and Barbara.”
“Then why didn’t he call Jack?”
“Easy again,” said Sandra. “Remember the kind of man Justin is. He didn’t want to put anybody in danger until he knew for certain he was right. He knew if he told Jack his suspicions, Jack would try to do something about it, he would . . . you know, try to do the right thing, no matter what. He didn’t want Jack acting until he had all the facts. To make a mistake meant almost certain death.
“So, thinking he might die before he verified what he suspected, Justin called me, told me what he knew. He didn’t want to die with the information, but he didn’t have the strength anymore to do what needed doing. He needed my hands to do his business. That’s what I’ve been doing for almost a year, trying to find out whether Justin is right.”
Connie’s voice fell to a whisper. “What have you decided?
Do you know who killed Jack’s parents?”
Sandra shook her head. “You’ll need to ask Justin that question,” she said. “He wants to tell you.”
Connie glanced at her watch. “When will he wake up?”
“Oh, another hour. As regular as clockwork.”
“You came to Jefferson City.”
“Yes, even though Justin told me to stay away. I didn’t want him to die without Jack seeing him. Knew Jack wouldn’t forgive me if I did.”
“That’s when Jack went to Vegas.”
“Exactly, then borrowed the money to give to Morrison.”
“He borrowed twenty-five thousand.”
“Guess he planned to have enough for anything.”
Connie lifted a chip from the bag and stuffed it into her mouth. She didn’t know how to ask the question, but she needed to do it. “What did Justin do with the money from Jack?”
Sandra stood, walked to a drawer by the refrigerator, opened it, and pulled out a cigar box. She handed the box to Connie. “It’s right here. All but about $2,000. Morrison kept that for fees and expenses.”
Connie flipped open the box and stared at the money.
Sandra sat back down. For several long seconds, the two women remained quiet. The air hung heavy in the small trailer, and the heat of the sun baked down on top. The long night and emotional day caught up with Connie, and she suddenly felt claustrophobic. Silence reigned in the hot trailer and nothing sounded from outside either. It struck Connie that something had changed. The chirping of the birds had ceased.
A sense of unease seeped through her, and her stomach rumbled. She felt faint, and she focused on Sandra to stay alert.
Sandra jerked up, her long hands pushing off the table and her blue eyes darting to the one window in the trailer.
“Somebody is out there!” she yelled, darting toward Justin.
“Get to the truck! I’ll take care of Justin!”
Connie obeyed instantly, her mind shutting down on everything but obeying Sandra. Flipping open the door, she jumped to the ground and sprinted to the pickup five steps away. She climbed inside and started the engine.
Poised at the wheel, she scanned the clearing, trying to see what had disturbed Sandra. Nothing moved. That spooked her.
What happened to the birds?
She stayed still, her body tense, coiled. The sound of a shot popped off to her left, and she instinctively ducked. The bullet zinged off the truck’s left fender, not more than four feet from her face. A second shot fired, this one at the trailer, and Connie hit the gas. The truck plunged forward through the thick grass and onto the dirt road. The trailer bounced behind her, its square body crunching the undergrowth around the narrow pathway.
Her hands glued to the wheel, Connie jammed the truck ahead, not bothering to look for the shooter. Biting her lip, she concentrated on one goal—reaching the highway. She would run over anything that separated her from Daniel and Katie.
Directly ahead, she spotted a brown and tan all-terrain Humvee. Beside the vehicle stood the man with the ponytail from the Mercedes at Morrison’s house. Crouched in a firing position, he pointed a rifle straight at her. Connie pushed the gas pedal harder and screamed.
The rifle fired, and the truck windshield shattered, glass spewing back into Connie’s face. She screamed again and slammed back against the seat, but her hands never left the wheel. The man appeared larger in her vision, no more than ten feet away, now five, now— His eyes widened, and Connie saw fear in them. Her truck reached out for the man, the grill almost smashing him. The man dropped his rifle and threw himself into the bushes on the left of the dirt path.
Connie never slowed. She kept her foot jammed to the floorboard. Her right fender smashed into the back of the Humvee and spun it out of the way. The crash jarred Connie’s bones, but she didn’t stop. Her face red with adrenaline, she let out a whoop as she spun past the crash, the truck
lurching over the bumps and gullies. For a second, she wondered about Sandra and Justin, but knew she couldn’t slow down if she wanted them to survive.
Up ahead, the road snaked to the right and onto the blacktop of the highway. Heavy on the brakes, Connie swerved out of the woods and onto the road. Keeping her eyes peeled in the rearview mirror for the Humvee, Connie pressed on, desperate to put some distance between herself and the man who wanted her dead.
*****
Brit rolled over in the thick bushes and sat up. Brushing himself off, he stood and mentally checked himself out. Nothing hurt that he could tell. He walked out of the bushes and back into the clearing where his transportation sat. For a couple of minutes, he did a survey of the damage. A crunched back left fender, but not enough to jam the tire. The front grill pushed into a tree, but no liquids dribbling to the ground.
Finished with the inspection, he hopped into the seat and tried the engine. It started, and he exhaled. With the engine running, he jumped back down and picked up his weapon, a semiautomatic Remington he had only recently bought but not yet mastered. The rifle cradled to his chest, he climbed back into the Humvee and wheeled it out of the clearing.
He began to drum on the steering wheel. “Lennie won’t like this,” he mumbled. “But what Lennie don’t know won’t hurt him.”
Determined to make sure Lennie never found out, Brit left the woods, turned onto the highway, and headed toward Jefferson City. Though not sure Red and Desert Two were going that way, he knew eventually they had to return. Red wouldn’t stay away from her precious children too long.
Smoothing down his ponytail, Brit licked his lips. Maybe he had approached this the wrong way. Maybe he shouldn’t chase the woman. Maybe he should make the woman come to him.
*****
A half hour after crashing past the Humvee, Connie pulled off the road and parked outside a truck stop. Sandra jumped out of the trailer and ran toward her. Hopping out, Connie opened her arms, and the two women embraced each other like two teammates who had just won a Super Bowl. Her adrenaline finally leveling off, Connie began to tremble. This had gotten far too dangerous. The incident last night scared her, but she hadn’t known for sure that the driver specifically tried to hit her.
Now she had no doubts. The man in the ponytail wanted her and Sandra and Justin dead.
Stepping back, she willed herself to stop shaking. Her eyes searched the parking lot but found nothing suspicious. She motioned to the trailer home. “Is Justin okay?”
Sandra exhaled. “Yeah, thank goodness. Justin’s fine, just mad that you bounced him out of his nap. You all right?”
Connie nodded. “I just can’t believe I’m mixed up in something this bizarre! I’m just a plain, small-town woman trying to raise a family . . . trying to deal with the death of her husband!”
“It’s a strange world sometimes.”
Connie scanned the parking lot again, her nerves on edge, thinking someone might take a shot at her at any moment.
“Let’s get out of the open,” she said, nodding toward the small restaurant attached to the truck stop. “No reason to give someone an easy target. You think Justin will be okay if we get a cup of coffee?”
Sandra surveyed the parking lot too. “We’ll sit by a window near the door,” she said. “If the guy shows up again, we’ll see him before he can do anything.”
Satisfied, Connie walked to the restaurant, Sandra beside her. Within a couple of minutes they had taken a booth by the front window and ordered two cups of hot coffee. Blowing on the coffee, Connie moved to the subject that had occupied her thoughts since she bounced out of the woods and onto the highway. “I got one big question,” she said. “What next?”
Sandra leaned back against the booth. “I think that’s up to you,” she said. “Justin can tell you the rest of the story, or you can drive away right now and leave it all with us. Justin will die with what he knows. No reason for the Mob to come after you if you don’t know anymore than you do now. It’s your call.”
Connie blew her coffee, then said, “You know it’s not that simple. That guy in the clearing—I’ve seen him twice now. Once outside of Morrison’s and again today. And, now that I think back, yesterday I about got run over by a car. I thought it was an accident. Now, I’m not so sure. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was upset with me.”
Sandra smiled, but only for an instant. “Then we have to deal with him,” she said. “No way around it.” She sipped from her coffee, not bothering to blow it cool.
“But how? What do you do with a guy who’s trying to kill you?”
Sandra placed her coffee cup on the table. “I guess Justin can answer that better than me,” she said. “He’s been dealing with that question for years.”
Connie tried to drink her coffee, but it was still too hot. For several minutes, she didn’t say anything else. She just couldn’t think anymore. Everything sagged in on her, a weight heavy enough to crush an anvil. Right now, she simply wanted to get home, snuggle her children in her arms, and go to sleep. With that in mind, she blew on her coffee and pushed away the decision of what to do next. Just get home, she decided. Worry about the future after that. Right now, just get home.
CHAPTER 27
At just past nine o’clock, Connie parked Justin’s truck and trailer on the street in front of her house and breathed a huge sigh of relief. No matter what happened now, she had others to help her deal with it. Tess and Tick, Reverend Wallace, the members of the church—all would support her through this crisis. She thought for a second of Luke Tyler, but then pushed the idea away. He would help if she asked, but she couldn’t ask.
Sandra stepped out of the trailer, and Connie smiled. Sandra and Justin agreed they should all three deal with the man in the Humvee. He wanted them all, so they should stay together through whatever came.
Behind Sandra, Connie saw Justin edge to the door of the trailer. His cane in his right hand, he eased himself onto the wooden step Sandra set below the door and walked down. Though unsteady, he made it onto the driveway. Sandra grabbed him by the left elbow and ushered him toward the house.
“Hold on one second,” said Connie as they reached the door. “Let me see if anyone is still up.”
No one was. Rubbing her eyes, Mrs. Everhart met Connie as she walked into the den. “I guess I dozed off,” she said. “Kids went to bed about thirty minutes ago. Both of them worn out.”
“Great,” said Connie. “They asleep?”
“I think so. They had a good day from what they told me. Daniel says he’s supposed to pitch tomorrow. Wanted to get a good night’s rest.”
Connie patted Mrs. Everhart on the shoulder. “You’re so good,” she said. “The kindest woman who ever lived.”
Mrs. Everhart shook her head, but Connie knew she liked the compliment. “I best get on home,” said Mrs. Everhart. “My back is kicking up on me a bit.”
Connie escorted her to the door. “I’ve got some company,” she said as they stepped outside. “These are friends of mine. Sandra Richards and Justin Longley. This is Mrs. Everhart, the best baby-sitter who ever lived.”
Mrs. Everhart appeared confused, but she didn’t question anything. “Glad to meet you both,” she said. “You from out of town?”
Sandra answered for them. “Yeah, from Miller.”
Mrs. Everhart started to speak again but then dropped it.
“Well, enjoy your visit in Jefferson City,” she said. “It’s a good town.”
“I’m sure it is,” said Sandra.
Mrs. Everhart headed to her car. Connie motioned Sandra and Justin to follow her into the house. Inside, she left them in the den to go check on the children. She found them both asleep.
Though careful not to wake them, she kissed them both and headed back to the den.
Justin and Sandra had taken seats on the couch, Justin stretched out, his cane in his left hand, his legs dangling off the edge.“ You okay without your oxygen?” Connie asked him.
He cleared his throat. “I can go for a while without it when . . . when the weather isn’t too hot. I’m fine for now.”
“You need anything?” she asked, looking first at him, then to Sandra.
Both shook their heads.
“Just sit down here,” said Sandra, indicating the rocking chair by the sofa. “You’ve got to be worn out.”
Connie obeyed, easing into the rocker. She relaxed her shoulders and rolled her head around on her neck. Goodness, it felt wonderful to sit down in her own home. Though she had been gone for only the day, it seemed like weeks. So much had happened so fast. She raised herself and faced Justin and Sandra.
“Sorry the kids aren’t up to meet you,” she said. “They’ll make up for it about six in the morning. This place will sound like an army moving after somebody yells ‘charge.’ Never heard two kids make so much noise.”
“I know you’re proud of them,” said Justin.
“You got that right.”
“I’ll look forward to the morning.”
Connie smiled and noticed again how Justin resembled a much older version of Jack and Daniel. No one could ever question the connection among these three males. She wondered about Jack’s father. Did Jack look like Bill as well? What a shame she would never know. He was dead, and Jack had once told her that the fire that killed him destroyed all the family pictures. Her shoulders slumped.
“What am I going to do?” she asked.
No one answered for a moment. Justin picked up his cane and laid it across his lap. “Your choice,” he said. “I’ll tell you the rest of my story if you want to hear it. Or Sandra and I can meet your kids in the morning and then leave here like we came, quiet and easy. Whichever you want.”
Connie nodded. She’d already thought this out. She had to protect Jack’s name, and she had to know the rest of Justin’s story. One way or the other, she had to know. Like Justin said, it might not lead her to the killer, but it would lead her to the truth. If his theory proved incorrect, at least she would know it.