Jonathan stopped at the door to Jane’s room, pausing briefly to see if Greg was still with her. He could not tell if Jane was alone, so Jonathan decided to go to his own room. He would have to check on Jane in the morning. Jonathan lay in bed for hours before he finally fell asleep. When he awoke the next morning, James and Greg had gone fishing with Jack. Only Bill had stayed behind which made it easier for Jonathan to be alone with Jane.
Bill was wearing his sunglasses as he leaned against the kitchen counter drinking a glass of orange juice. Jonathan stopped behind him and laughed.
“What’s wrong, Bill? Have you got a hangover?” Jonathan shook his head and kept laughing as he poured a glass of juice to take to Jane.
“Shut up,” Bill mumbled.
“You never could hold your liquor. What the hell possessed you to drink that much?”
“I guess I missed the old days.”
Jonathan opened the breadbox and pulled out the loaf of bread, then put two slices in the toaster. Jonathan got a plate down from the cabinet and waited for the toast as he watched Bill. Bill barely said a word as Jonathan buttered the toast and picked up the glass of orange juice.
“You do realize don’t you that feeding her only keeps her strength up and makes it worse for her,” Bill said as he laid his head on the counter.
“Sorry Bill, but I don’t agree.”
Jonathan left Bill leaning against the counter, nursing his hangover, as he made his way to the room where Jane was. Jane smiled as soon as she saw it was Jonathan. He closed the door before he placed the juice and toast on the nightstand.
“We might have to do this tonight Jane. I am starting to worry about what they are planning. When I come for you, be ready.”
Jane nodded her head. Jonathan wanted to stay with her, but he knew it would not be a good idea. Now that James had revealed to him what Greg had done to the last poor bastard who came along, Jonathan needed to watch his back at all times.
Jonathan returned to his room and pulled the container out from under his bed where he had hidden the contents of the vials from Jack’s bag. He also kept one of the syringes fully loaded in case he needed to use it. Jonathan needed to find a way to get Greg away from the others, somewhere isolated where they would be alone. Jonathan had noticed there was a loaded shotgun outside of Jane’s door. It could prove a valuable asset when the time came.
Jonathan had also taken several sleeping pills from Jack’s bag. If he could find some way to slip it into their food without them knowing, he might have a chance at incapacitating all of them at once.
Jonathan went to the kitchen where Bill was still leaning against the counter nursing his pounding head. Bill barely moved as Jonathan began looking through the cupboards as he looked for anything he could use to disguise the taste of the ground pills. He found a large can of tomatoes and several cans of tomato paste along with all the seasonings to make spaghetti sauce. Jonathan decided he would make spaghetti and meat sauce for dinner, drug them, and then he and Jane could escape. No one would question him when he didn’t eat the sauce, since all of them, except James, knew that Jonathan was allergic to tomatoes.
“What are you doing for God’s sake? Could you make any more noise?” Bill grumbled.
“I just thought I would make dinner. You all have been doing all the cooking since we got here so I thought tonight could be my treat.”
Jonathan began opening the cans and then looked for a large pot to boil the sauce in. He would wait until the last minute to add the crushed pills in case one of them decided they wanted to taste the sauce before dinner. Jonathan spent the next hour making what could possibly be the last meal his friends would ever eat.
Chapter Six
The Plan
Nearly an hour later, Greg, Jack, and James returned from fishing to find Jonathan in the kitchen working on his secret concoction. Jonathan leaned around the corner of the counter to see them come in the door and went back to his cooking. Greg dropped his fishing gear in the middle of the floor in the living room before he walked toward the kitchen.
“That smells great, Masby. I can honestly say I did miss your cooking. You will make someone a great wife one day.” Greg nudged Jonathan in an attempt to make him laugh.
“Very funny, Greg.”
“I am serious about the cooking though. I really did miss it.”
Jonathan turned his attention back to his pot of spaghetti sauce and began making the meatballs to add to the sauce. It still would be several hours before it would be time to eat. The hours could not go by fast enough as far as Jonathan was concerned. He just wanted to get this over with and help Jane to get safely away.
James carried a stringer of fish into the kitchen, placed them in the sink and began cleaning them. He seemed a little agitated that Jonathan was cooking.
“I am sorry if I spoiled your plans for dinner. If I had known that you had gone fishing for tonight’s dinner, I wouldn’t have started this.”
“It’s no big deal. I can fillet them and freeze them for later. Trout keeps pretty well frozen. We can always eat them another night.” James continued filleting the trout and did not look up at Jonathan while he was speaking.
Jonathan thought about the conversation he had with James the prior day and wondered how much of it was true. It seemed a little too convenient that both James and Greg had approached him with nearly the same scenario. There was a large possibility that the whole thing was a setup, a test of some sort, to see if Jonathan really was a member of their elite collectors club. As Jonathan continued to stir the sauce, the amount of danger he was placing both himself and Jane in, began to become a reality.
The next few hours seemed to drag themselves along at an incredibly painful rate. Jonathan watched Bill and Jack fight over another game of chess. James spent the majority of the afternoon in the room with Jane, which bothered Jonathan, but he maintained his composure as best he could by watching his friends and their game of chess. Jonathan was relieved that he decided to wait to add the sleeping pills to the sauce until it was closer to dinner when he saw Greg in the kitchen dipping a piece of bread into the sauce.
“This really is great Jonny, almost as good as my mother’s,” Greg called out from the kitchen.
“It should be, Greg, it is her recipe.”
Greg smiled when he realized why it tasted so familiar. Jonathan spent a great deal of time at the Johnson’s when they were growing up. Jonathan’s mother worked two jobs and was rarely home to cook dinner for him, so he usually ate with Greg and his family. Greg’s mother was always more than willing to have Jonathan over for dinner. She couldn’t stand to see a young boy home alone with nothing to eat, and Jonathan was always grateful, taking interest in her cooking and helping in the kitchen.
“You know mom always did love it when you came over for dinner. I think she liked having help in the kitchen. You should stop by and see her before we head home. I know she would love to see you.”
Greg was being unusually hospitable, which was not like him. Greg didn’t offer anything unless it benefited him in one manner or another, and his suggestion made Jonathan wonder why he would bother to bring his mother into the conversation unless it was to keep Jonathan off guard. Jonathan played along as though he was happy to receive the invite.
“I would love to see Rose. Your mom was like a second mother to me. I guess I should have stayed in contact with her better than I have,” Jonathan replied as he continued to watch Bill and Jack play chess.
“You were definitely a better son to her than I was. I often thought she preferred you over me, Masby. You were what she wanted in a son.”
“Don’t be ridiculous Greg.” Jonathan knew this conversation was going to end unpleasantly by the turn it had taken. He should have known better than to mention it was Greg’s mother who gave him the recipe. Greg put on a good show in front of everyone, but he had his insecurities.
“So how many fish did you catch this morning?” Jonathan asked as he attempte
d to change the subject.
“I only caught two. Jack really slayed them. He caught the majority of the fish. We would have woken you and took you along, but I figured you probably were in about as good of shape as Bill this morning. Isn’t that right Bill?” Greg asked.
“Screw you, Greg. You weren’t up drinking all night like we were. Hell, you came in at the tail end, had a few drinks and went to bed. We polished off two fifths of bourbon long before you ever got home.”
Jonathan watched the two of them argue and how much pleasure Greg took from agitating Bill. It was easy for Greg to get Bill wound up over the littlest comment. At least if Greg’s attention was focused on Bill, it kept him busy, which would allow Jonathan enough time to slip the pills into the sauce unnoticed.
The semi-friendly banter between Greg and Bill quickly escalated into an argument, which could not have been more perfectly timed for Jonathan. He slipped seven of the pills from his pocket into the sauce and quickly made a small batch of pesto to toss his spaghetti in so he could eat with them. He drained the pasta, mixed it into the sauce, and carried the entire pot to the table. Jack turned around to see Jonathan placing the pot of spaghetti in the center of the table and offered to get the plates and Jonathan agreed.
“Jesus, some shit never changes. The two of them still fight like they did in college. You would think Bill would learn to drop it,” Jack said as he pulled the plates down from the cupboard.
“You would but I sometimes think Bill enjoys it just as much as Greg does. I think Bill thinks it is funny.”
Jack agreed with Jonathan. Bill was an instigator when it came to getting Greg riled about something.
“If you guys are done arguing like a couple of lovebirds, dinner is on the table, courtesy of Jonathan,” Jack said loudly. As they gathered around the table, Jonathan prayed the pills had not made the sauce too bitter and that they would be strong enough to at least slow them down given how large the pot of spaghetti was.
James offered to serve Jonathan, but Jonathan waved his hand and declined, which caused James to look at him with a slight amount of suspicion.
“Jonathan is allergic to tomatoes, James. Unless you feel like rushing him to the emergency room, I wouldn’t press the issue.” Greg piled a double sized helping of spaghetti and meatballs onto his plate. “Aren’t you going to take some into your little guest, Jonathan?”
“I figured I would take her some after we were done eating. I don’t think it is a good idea to leave her alone while she’s eating,” Jonathan said quickly.
“You’re probably right. Did you make any bread?” Greg asked.
Jonathan stood and grabbed the loaf of bread off the counter and sat it on the table with a stick of butter and a knife.
“Well, I guess that would be a no. Since when do you make spaghetti and forget the garlic bread? I can’t believe you didn’t make bread.”
“Give it a rest would you, Greg. Shit, all you have done is bitch all day. If I wanted to listen to this shit, I could have stayed at home and got it from the wife.” Jack was growing impatient with Greg’s constant complaining and ribbing of Jonathan.
Jonathan ate in silence as he watched his friends devour the pot of spaghetti he had made. He noticed that Greg was slurring his words slightly when he spoke. Jonathan hoped it would not be much longer before the opportunity to help Jane escape would present itself.
At the midpoint of the meal, James realized what was happening and lunged across the table at Jonathan, missing him and tumbling to the floor.
“You son of a bitch,” James yelled as he pulled himself up using the edge of the dining room table. “What the hell did you put in there?”
“Nothing any worse than what you have been giving her.”
“You’re a dead man,” Greg shouted as he attempted to stand and fell.
“Either way, I was going to end up dead if you or James had any say in it. He told me about the last partner, you attempted to recruit, Greg. I know all about your little plan,” Jonathan said as he backed away from the table. When he realized they would still be able to come after him, Jonathan ran to Jane’s room and grabbed the shotgun by the door before he barricaded himself inside.
Jonathan rushed to cut the ropes from Jane’s feet and wrists. Her clothes were in shreds so the only clothing she could wear was Jonathan’s coat and shirt.
“Hurry Jane, put your shoes on we don’t have much time,” Jonathan said as he handed Jane her tennis shoes. He went to the window and opened it so they could climb out. Just as Jane was halfway out the window, Greg kicked the door in.
“You are not taking her out of here, Masby,” Greg shouted as he fell forward into the end of the bed.
“Yes, I am, Greg. Tomorrow you can go home and forget this ever happened and forget all about her and all about me.” Jonathan flipped the safety on the shotgun off as he placed the butt of the gun against his shoulder and stepped backward toward the window.
“You don’t have the fucking balls to shoot me.”
Before Jonathan could get to the window, Greg rushed him and he struggled to get the gun free from Jonathan’s grasp. Jonathan was not about to let go of the gun. He knew if Greg got ahold of it, both he and Jane were as good as dead. Jonathan kicked Greg in the head as he backed away from him across the floor and backed into the wall.
Greg struggled to get to his feet, and in a bold move, grabbed ahold of the end of the gun barrel and placed it to his chest. “Go ahead, Masby, pull the trigger.”
As Jonathan pulled back on the gun, he pulled the trigger. Jonathan had never shot anyone, and was not quite prepared for the chaos that a gunshot wound to the face, at close range, would cause on impact. Greg’s face was completely obliterated, his brain matter sprayed out of the back of his head, coating the bed behind him. Jonathan watched his friend’s body slump to its knees as though it was slow motion photography. When Greg’s body finally hit the floor, Jonathan could see the entire back of his head was gone.
“Jonathan, please hurry,” Jane called to him from outside the window. Jonathan backed away from Greg’s lifeless body and into the dark, moonlit night.
“Come on,” Jonathan said as he took Jane by the hand and the two of them began to run through the woods. He was not sure where they were headed, but Jonathan hoped they would eventually come upon the road or another cabin.
After they were far enough away from the cabin that Jonathan could no longer see the lights, he stopped to check on Jane. She appeared visibly shaken by what she had witnessed as she trembled in the darkness.
“I am sorry, Jane. I didn’t want that to happen.”
Jane did not answer Jonathan and remained silent as they continued to climb to the top of the hill. Once they reached the top of the small ridge, Jonathan handed Jane the shotgun while he climbed up the slick rock face to a position where he could safely help Jane up to where he was standing. When Jonathan turned around, Jane was pointing the shotgun directly at the center of his chest.
“Jane, what are you doing?”
Jane was emotionless as she stared at Jonathan. He was frightened by her lack of emotion and coldness. Jane had reached her breaking point.
“Go Jonathan and don’t look back,” Jane whispered as she slid the pump on the shotgun back and ejected the spent shell casing.
“Jane, what are you doing? Don’t do this. Come with me.” Jonathan extended his hand toward Jane as she backed away from him.
“Run,” Jane whispered.
As Jonathan turned to go down the backside of the rocky embankment, he heard twigs breaking as Jane ran down the hill toward the cabin. Jonathan kept walking until he heard three gunshots break the eerie silence of the night, then he began to run.
Jonathan ran until he reached the road, and by then, it was only few hours until dawn. He had been running through the woods for nearly six hours. Jonathan collapsed by the edge of the road. He had no idea where he was or how to get back to the cabin. Jonathan decided to stay by the edge of
the road and rested his head in his hands. For all he knew, all of his friends were now dead and maybe Jane was dead also. Jonathan waited for nearly two hours before he saw the headlights of an approaching car. He stood and flagged down the oncoming truck. Jonathan was relieved when the old pickup pulled off the road in front of him. He ran to the passenger side window of the vehicle and stopped.
“I hate to ask you for a ride, but I was staying at a friend’s cabin and my car won’t start. If I could just get a ride into town, I could call a repair shop.”
“You seem harmless enough, climb on in,” the woman said and leaned across the seat to open the door. Jonathan climbed in and slammed the door. He never said another word until they reached town except to thank the woman for her kindness.
Jonathan walked to a small café, which was open for breakfast, and used the phone to call his secretary at the law firm. If anyone could get him home, it would be Sherri. He looked at his shirt, noticing the small spots of blood.
“Sherri, I am sorry to call you so early in the morning, but I need your help. Look, I need a rental car delivered. I am stranded and need a way to the airport,” Jonathan explained. He gave her the details of his location and told her to use the credit card he kept in the top drawer of his desk to take care of it.
As Jonathan waited for the rental car to arrive, he drank several cups of coffee and ordered breakfast, though he was not hungry. He pushed his food around the plate as the young waitress stood in front of him un-noticed by Jonathan in his stupor.
“I know the food here isn’t great, but it isn’t that terrible,” she said and smiled. Jonathan looked up at her. She was pretty and reminded him slightly of Jane.
“I am sorry. I am just not very hungry,” Jonathan whispered.
“Girl troubles?” the waitress asked.
The Collectors: Revenge Becomes Her Page 6