by Vella Day
“No,” she said, jumping in before he got a chance to answer for her. “We just became engaged. I'm a God fearing woman who believes in marriage first.” Her chin notched higher.
His admiration for her picked up. She was a quick study.
“I'm glad to hear it, little lady.” Wilkerson turned to Jake. “What can I get for you?”
“I'm looking to do some odd jobs. You know of anyone in need of a handyman?”
The old man scratched his chin. “As a matter of fact I do. Douglas Abernathy, out at Meadow Point, was in here yesterday. He's renovating a room. He and the misses are expecting their first.”
He smiled. “You have his number?”
Mr. Wilkerson hobbled back around the counter. “I do, but don't expect much in the way of payment. The wife and he can give you food if you need some. They turned their barn into some kind of organic greenhouse. Even installed a couple of those solar panels.”
“That would be great.”
“Where are you two staying?”
“At the Traynors for now. We plan to look for a place of our own as soon as Hank gets back from D.C.”
“I'll keep an eye out for you.” He winked. “Glad you're back.”
They said their goodbyes, and Jake escorted Susan out. Once they were out of earshot, she stepped away from him. “Was that wise to tell him where we're staying?”
“If I'd lied, he'd have known.”
She chewed on her bottom lip looking way too cute.
“Do you think the whole town will know you're back?”
“I'd give Wilkerson about an hour.”
Jake wanted to smooth away the creases in her brow, but given they had to play the role of the happy couple, he might as well make his part convincing. Jake squeezed her hand, leaned over, and kissed her. With real emotion. Her eyes widened this time. He pulled her close to whisper in her ear. “We want the townsfolk to believe we're a couple.”
Her grip relaxed. “When I was in front of a jury, I was a great actress, if I do say so myself. Playing your fiancée won't be a stretch.”
When she smiled up at him with mischief in her eyes, he knew he'd run smack into trouble.
**
Joseph was hunched over his books when the phone rang. It was Dom again.
“Yes?”
“We're all set.”
He assumed that meant the last of the jurors was gone. “Tell me about the secret plan you had.”
“I framed Jake Yarnell for the murder of the last juror. It was so sweet.”
“Tell me.”
After Dom finished, even Joseph admitted the plan was good.
“I called Thomason and sent him the photo showing Yarnell doing the deed.”
Joseph stilled. “You what?”
“I said—”
“I heard what you said. Why'd you call him? We don't need him to be able to trace your call.”
“I was careful. I used a disposable. How else could I get the picture to him so quickly?”
Dom always claimed he was careful, but he never was. A knock sounded on his door and Joseph spun around.
“Dad, I'm going to pick up the kids from school.” His daughter-in-law smiled, and his heart melted.
“Okay.”
If he'd told her Dom was on the phone, she would have stiffened, and he hated to see Helena suffer. She was a sweetheart.
Once she closed the door to the den, he returned his attention back to his son. “You know where Yarnell and the woman are?”
“Yeah, I do. When they were parked at the motel, I put a tracer on the car. No problems. They'll be out of your hair soon.”
Joseph leaned back in his chair and sighed. “You aren't done until Peter Caravello is six feet under.”
“I know. He'll be my reward.”
Joseph hung up and dropped his head in his hands. Maybe he was too old for revenge. He should have had Dom kill the s.o.b. years ago and avoid all the pain of watching Maria fall in love with a stinking Caravello.
16
Dom disconnected. He couldn't wait to see the smile on his father's face the day he announced Peter was dead. He'd worked his whole life to win his father's approval, and he'd be damned if anything got in his way.
Maria on the other hand would never forgive him if she ever learned what he was about to do. He'd be careful, but she'd still be heartbroken. It was for her own good though. Her life with Peter didn't have a chance anyway, not with a father like his.
But first, he had to take care of the attorney and her bodyguard. He checked his GPS, and it indicated they were in West Virginia. Perfect. He'd already driven as far as Virginia. Another few hours and he'd be ready to take them down.
Dom punched in Ronnie's number. While he liked working solo, having backup helped.
“Hey, Dom.”
“I got another job for you. Are you interested?”
“How much?”
“Five big ones.”
“Where and when?”
That's what he liked about Ronnie. No bullshit. It was all about the money.
The Chapman's Jeep had stopped near the Roanoke airport for an hour. At first Dom thought his two pigeons had flown somewhere, but about half -hour ago, the Jeep headed north. “Can you leave now and meet me?”
“For five grand I can.”
They set up to meet halfway between Roanoke and Washington, D.C. Dom checked the dash for the time. “Say nine tonight?” Factoring in for his friend to get lost, that should give Ronnie time to pack and make the trip. “We'll head into West Virginia from there. That's what the GPS locator claims they've gone.”
“I'll be there. What are you driving?”
“A red mustang.” He liked to rent in style.
“Cool.”
Dom leaned back in his seat. Roanoke was a nice town. He had a little philly, Sarah, he used to bang here, but ever since the kids were born, he'd been devoted and hadn't strayed. Damn. Why did he have to be so moral?
He had an hour to kill while Ronnie got his act together. Because he could use a good burger, he stopped in a diner. Turns out, it was a real waste of five bucks. He would have been better off calling Sarah.
Dom pulled out a pad and jotted down some notes and a diagram of how the kill would go down. He liked being prepared. It also helped if he and Ronnie were on the same page. The guy was good with diagrams, not verbal instructions.
Dom waited at the assigned spot for close to half an hour before Ronnie finally showed. The signal on Yarnell and Chapman's Jeep had stopped. Good. Moving targets were harder to deal with. Ronnie pulled alongside him in the parking lot, hopped out, and tapped on Dom's window. He rolled down the pane half way, and the cold air blasted him.
“So what's our plan,” Ronnie said, shivering.
Idiot didn't have the sense to wear a jacket. “When we get near to where we're going, we can park your car and we'll go in together. I have it all drawn out for you.” Dom shook a finger at him. “Don't lose me.”
“I'll stick to you like glue.” Ronnie jogged back to his car.
“Wait,” Dom called, and his friend spun around. “You rented your car under an assumed name, right?” He nodded toward the Ford Focus.
He froze. “I didn't have time. This is Gina's car.”
Dom slammed his palm against the steering wheel. He debated driving off and leaving Ronnie in the parking lot but having backup was more important. “Keep up.”
In less than an hour they arrived in West Virginia, five miles from the Jeep's location. Dom pulled into a Wal-Mart since no one would bother Ronnie's car there.
He honked for his friend to get in.
Ronnie sniffed. “I love new car smell. Say, I didn't get a chance to eat before you called. Mind if we grab a bite? I have to keep up my stamina.”
Ronnie's need for constant food intake drove Dom crazy. “Sure, but it's got to be a drive-through.”
“Fine. How are we going to take them down?”
“We'll have to locate the
vehicle first. The GPS isn't exact. The ideal situation would be if they're at a motel. If they are, I'll go in, shoot them both and get out. We can go over the fine details when we get there.”
“How are you going to know which room they're in? If you flash that fake FBI badge, the person at the desk is sure to remember you.”
He should have thought of that. Dom looked over at Ronnie. Even in the dark, he could tell his eyes were bloodshot. Christ. The last thing he needed was an overtired accomplice.
“It's late. We'll get a room for the night and catch a few hours sleep. When Yarnell and Chapman come out in the morning, we'll follow them and take them down.”
“What if they're staying at a friend's house?”
Dom didn't understand why Ronnie was so nervous. He hadn't had any qualms when he set the townhouse next to Mrs. Chapman's place on fire.
“Don't worry. I have a plan for that too.”
“Okay.”
The Jeep was parked at a Motel 6. Perfect. He reserved a room under his fake name. As soon as they settled in, Ronnie climbed into his bed.
Dom sat up a little while longer, going over the plan in his head. At midnight, he shut off the light and tried to sleep, but his excitement prevented him from dozing for long. It didn't help that Ronnie snored. To make sure nothing would go wrong, every few hours he crawled out of bed and checked to see if the Jeep was still in the parking lot. It was.
At five, he roused his partner. “Up and at 'em.”
Ronnie was slow to move, but after he showered, he was in the car waiting for the couple to get on the road. Dom had photos of both Yarnell and Chapman. Those two should be easy to spot.
When a young black couple with two kids piled into the Jeep, Dom slammed his fist against the dash.
“What are they doing getting into the car?” Ronnie turned toward him. “You sure you got the right vehicle?”
“Yeah. I put the GPS on the bumper myself.” Shit. “You know I told you the Jeep sat near the airport for an hour. I bet Yarnell switched cars. Damn it.” He wouldn't let his dad know since he couldn't take the put down.
“So now what do we do?”
“Lemme think.”
“You think your FBI mole knows where Yarnell and the girl are?”
“My dad said no. If they did, the Feds would have already caught him.”
“Caught him?”
He hadn't kept Ronnie in the loop once he set fire to Chapman's townhouse, so he told him about framing Yarnell for Cho's murder.”
“Smart.”
Dom puffed out his chest. “I thought so.”
“So now what?”
“I did some research on Yarnell. He went to school in Virginia. Roomed a guy who works for the guy in charge of the safe house.”
“The mole?”
“Yeah. I think I know where they might be hiding.” Dom couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face.
**
Richard paced Stanton's office. “Any idea where Yarnell might be?”
“He could be anywhere.” Stanton crossed his arms and glared at him.
“And we don't have any way to trace him?” Richard slapped the desk.
“Calm down. Jake's not dangerous.”
“Like hell. He killed at least one juror, maybe more.”
“The timeline doesn't fit. He couldn't have killed Janet Starkey for one. Jake and Mrs. Chapman were in Florida at the time.”
Richard thought fast. “Or so he said. I only spoke to Jake but never to Mrs. Chapman. He could have lied when he said they were in Florida.”
“It's easy enough to verify.”
Stanton pulled out his phone and tapped his fingers on the desk. “Tom, Stanton. Would you run me the charges Jake rang up on the credit card from the time he left DC to the time he arrived in Florida?” He held up a finger at Richard.
Smug bastard. He needed Jake to look guilty. Otherwise, he was doomed. Stanton was too smart not to suspect he was guilty of compromising the position of the witnesses.
“Thanks,” Stanton said. He swiped off his phone. “Shouldn't take Tom long to check.”
Richard sat in the chair opposite Stanton. He didn't enjoy looking up at the man, but the situation was getting more dire. “He could have hired someone to killed Janet and the other witnesses.” Lame, Richard, lame.
“What do you have against Jake?”
Shit. “Me? Nothing. I'm just drawing conclusions from the facts. Pictures don't lie.”
A knock sounded on the door and Richard's secretary came in. She glanced at Stanton and winced.
“It's all right. We're all on the same side. What did you find out?”
“It was too late to contact Jake's college to find out the name of his fraternity.” She bit her bottom lip. “I came up with a dead end with his last foster home too. The parents have moved and left no forwarding address. I'm sorry.”
From the way she twisted her fingers together, she looked like she expected to get fired for failing to get the information he'd asked for. If her father weren't so high up in the FBI, he'd have canned her ass a long time ago. He wanted to rant, but he stayed calm in front of Stanton.
“No problem. Tomorrow will be fine. I'm sure you'll come up with a list of his friends soon enough.”
She half smiled and ducked out.
“What was that about?” Stanton said.
Richard got up. “I'm guessing Jake will want to stay with a friend rather than pay for a motel night after night. Without using credit cards, his funds will run short.”
“Jake is resourceful. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Dismissed like some probie, Richard straightened his tie and left. Asshole. He'd find Jake if it killed him.
**
Waiting on tables came back naturally to Susan, and best of all, the people of West Virginia were friendly and nice. She couldn't brag they were big tippers, but she was able to eat for free, and for that she was grateful. To her surprise, the owner acted happy she wanted a job. Little did he know how desperate she was for the income.
Working the long hours also helped renew her spirits. She was used to investigating and reading briefs till the early morning, not sitting around helpless.
The switch from mental to physical work didn't bother her as long as she made a few adjustments. She found if she held the tray low enough, the weight didn't tug on her stitches as much, but John Carter, the owner of Shepherd's Diner, insisted she only carry light orders. Poor Rebecca, one of the waitresses who worked the same shift, had to do the heavy lifting for her.
Most of the clientele were kind enough not to ask why part of her face was covered. Jake and she had come up with a good cover story that involved a drunk driver in case they did ask. The hardest part of her job was responding to her new name of Taylor instead of Susan.
She'd only been working two days, but she already missed being with Jake twenty-four seven. He'd begun work this morning at the young couple's house. Of course, if he'd let her have a phone, she might have been able to at least text him.
“Taylor?” Her boss called from behind the counter.
She looked up. He nodded toward the door. Jake stood at the entranceway, a smile on his face, and her heart skipped a beat. Was she psychic or what? Even with paint splatter on his new jeans and bits of white in his hair, he looked handsome.
He sauntered over to her. “Got room for me?”
“Sure. Pick a table.” Four of the eight tables sat empty.
“Can you join me?”
She laughed. Actually laughed. “It's noon. I have to work. It's the busiest time of the day, or so I've been told.” To punctuate her statement, the door opened bringing with it two more customers.
Jake shrugged and grabbed a booth in the corner, his back to the wall. She figured the strategic position afforded him the best view of what was going on.
Susan gave him a menu. “Can I get you something to drink, sir?”
“Oh, I'm a sir now?” His
blue eyes crinkled on the corners. “I like it. Yes, I'd like a cup of coffee. Black.”
“Coming up. You want anything else?” She hadn't flirted with a man in years. Somehow it felt right with Jake.
“Nothing I can afford.”
His eyes darkened, and heat crept up her face. She wasn't quite sure what he was implying, but it was best if she nabbed the coffee and didn't ask for details. They were supposed to be engaged, so she figured his flirtations were part of the role-playing.
"How about a burger? On the house." She could afford to him one.
"Perfect."
She delivered the coffee, and then his meal. When the lunch crowd left, Susan slipped in the booth across from him.
“How are you holding up?” he asked, all flirtation gone.
“I actually enjoy meeting all these people. They're so real and nice. Nothing like the sharks and scum buckets I'm used to dealing with.”
Jake smiled as he looked around. “I always had a connection to this place. See that washboard and those bottles on the shelf?”
She nodded.
“They've been there since 1963, according to Hank.”
Must be nice to have a place with fond memories.
Since she had a few minutes and Jake appeared to be in a sharing mood, she decided to test the waters. “Where did you grow up?”
A tic caught the corner of his eye. Apparently, his background wasn't a good topic.
“I lived in many different places, from Pennsylvania to Virginia to Washington, DC.”
“Was that when you were in foster care?”
“Yes.”
She waited a beat for him to elaborate, but instead he stretched his arms back over the Naugahyde upholstered booth. The tension rippling across his neck belied his relaxed pose.
“How did you end up in foster care?”
“My mother died of a drug overdose when I was seven. She was a whore.”
Susan sucked in a long breath. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. Long story short, I went directly into the foster care system. Because I was rather old, I got shuffled from place to place—after I stayed the short stint with the nuns. I went through four families before I turned eighteen.”