Risk of a Lifetime

by Claudia Shelton

  The sheriff must have been getting too close. Might not have even known how close. Leon was a perfect patsy for whoever was actually behind the Sheriff’s accident. Stroke his ego. Give him a wad of money. The guy would do anything. Especially if you threw in some uppers. And maybe, just maybe, Leon had seen something the day of the bank robbery.

  Kennett clicked back in. “You’re not gonna like this.”

  “Tell me.” He concentrated on the words, letting them fall into pockets of his mind like a sorting machine.

  “One of the docs called from the medical center. Thought we should know Sheriff Davis is still incoherent but keeps rambling about his phone. Says he gets real agitated when he does. Seems to fight someone.”

  JB tensed as he peered out the small bathroom window. “See if Evans took the phone from the scene…”

  “I just called. He didn’t.” Kennett’s voice lowered. “In fact, he said the sheriff’s coat pocket where he kept the private phone was ripped clean off. Hang up, and use the phone I gave you.”

  JB hung up. Jabbed the phone into the off position. Damnittohell. The perp had the phone. Could have a header on where they were from the few minutes of conversation he just had.

  Wouldn’t take the guy long to track down the secure number on the new phone. Simple elimination. The way the guy operated technically, he might have a trace on every number listed just waiting for the right voice to pick up. JB’s voice.

  Before they’d left Crayton, Sheriff Davis told him he’d nickname JB the Veterinarian in his contact list. Should slow the process. Maybe the creep wouldn’t verify all the numbers. Even if he did, still might take the guy until morning to zone which number was which.

  JB needed to stay off the secure phone, which sure as hell wasn’t secure anymore. Or maybe he should us it…lure the guy right to them on their own terms. Either way wasn’t good. Keep the phone, the perp would come for sure. At this point, he put nothing past the man, because no matter what, he would still find a way to come. This guy didn’t plan on stopping.

  Time to take a stand. JB’d keep the phone. Set his own trap. Wait for the man to show his face.

  The disposable phone Kennett gave him before they left Crayton rang.

  “I got lost in thought.” JB said.

  “What do you want me to do?” Kennett said.

  “I’m formulating a way to lure the guy in. As soon as I do, I’ll call you back on this line.” JB figured the best trail right now would be the files at the police station. “Other than that, check the sheriff’s office, and see what he’s been reading. What’s odd in the reports? Coincidental? Out of place?”

  “Should I let Deputy Evans know what I’m doing?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.” JB realized he was asking the man to keep something from his own boss. “All I got right now are you and Cain. That’s all I want.”

  Silence on the line meant Kennett was thinking about the request. “You know this could mean my job.”

  “Yep.” If the rookie said no, then no it would be.

  “Why?” Kennett said. “Why not tell Evans? Don’t you trust him?”

  “I trust him. He knows where I am. May even know the number if the sheriff gave it to him. But Evans has a family. He needs to walk in their door every night, not be lying at the bottom of a cliff like Sheriff Davis. Besides, it sounds like Crayton’s gonna need him big time for a while.” JB looked in the mirror again and shook his head. “We’re facing a killer now. A pro.”

  “The sheriff had to be on to something big to nearly get him killed.”

  JB opened the bathroom door and checked outside the two shuttered bedroom windows. Marcy had to be livid on the other side of the locked door. “Makes sense. Why else would someone bother to run him over the cliff? Take his phone? Hire Leon to do the dirty work, then kill him?”

  “Got it.”

  “The sheriff had to be real close.” JB unlocked the bedroom door. “See what you can find out. Call me back.”

  …

  Marcy stood at the counter buttering warmed-up biscuits when JB stepped out of the bedroom. He made the rounds of all the windows. Rechecked the locks.

  “JB?” She tensed. The atmosphere had changed.

  With a grunt for response, he braced the door on the second bedroom closed with a chair under the handle. The hardness in his expression said something was wrong. But as long as they were together, she felt safe. Secure in the cocoon of the cabin.

  A Kevlar vest covered JB’s cold-weather thermals again. Boots were full-laced and double knotted. Shoulder holster strapped in place. He carried the Glock in his hands as he made the rounds. When he turned, she saw a backup gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans. He was in FBI mode. Might not be part of the Bureau any more, but he was still tough—no-nonsense Special Agent Jean Bradley tough.

  Her afternoon lover was nowhere to be found. Instead, her protector braced himself for battle. She couldn’t stop the nerves making a race track of her body or the quiver of hair on the back of her neck. But she’d stay strong for him.

  She sat two plates of hamburger hash and biscuits on the table, then touched his shoulder as he finished putting a metal cookie sheet behind the window curtains above the kitchen sink. The only other window minus louvered shutters was in the master bath.

  “What’s wrong, JB?”

  He folded her in his arms. Held her close. She closed her eyes and braced for whatever he had to tell her.

  “There’s been an accident.” His arms didn’t let her move. “Your uncle’s in ICU and Leon’s dead.”

  A squeak of a cry caught in her throat a moment before she turned her face up to his. She jerked with the sobs caught in the same place. “Will he live?”

  “They’re not sure.” He knew how close the nieces were to their uncle. Sheriff Davis had been their one constant in life besides Sadie and Truman. “I’m sorry, sugar. I’m sorry.”

  She laid her cheek against his chest. “What else?”

  “I think the sheriff got close. Too close to whoever’s after us.”

  “Leon?”

  “No. He was just a cog in the wheel.” JB smoothed her hair. Not the sexy tangle of before, but a heavy, protective slide of his fingers. “You might as well know the perp’s got your uncle’s phone.”

  She didn’t understand phones and GPS and tracking, but her insides triggered a flash of warning. “He’ll be able to find us, right?”

  “If my phone’s turned on, he can likely trace it. May have already.” JB let her lean back, looking her in the eye. “You might as well know, I’ve decided to leave the phone on.”

  “Can’t we run again?” There had to be another way. More time. She wasn’t ready for this to end. She might not be able to face a life with him as a lawman, but she needed more time to make the memories she’d hold on to once this was over. “We could find another cabin and…and…”

  “Could. But we won’t.” He scanned her face with his stare, as if making a photo negative for future use. “This ends here. On our terms. Okay?”

  What would he say if she said no? Said she wanted to keep on running forever just to be with him? Said she’d give herself up for him to live another day? What would he say?

  She straightened her back. Swallowed her fear. No, they weren’t going to run any more. JB was right. Better to confront the attacker on your own ground. They wouldn’t let the man chase them like they were the criminals. Like they were animals waiting for his pot-shot.

  “Okay.” People might think she was a flutter in the breeze, but she could stand her ground when push came to shove. JB needed her help, so he could work to keep them both alive. “Do you have a plan?”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Thirty minutes later, JB laid out his plan to Marcy. “You’ll get in the boat by the dock and set it adrift. You won’t be able to turn the motor on, but you’ll be able to use the oars if you’re real quiet. Once you’re out of the cove, you can start the trolling motor just like wh
en we used to go fishing.”

  “I can’t go out on the water by myself… I can’t.” She shook her head, eyes wide with stubbornness. “Change your plan. Come with me.”

  “You’re a good, strong swimmer. You just hit your head on the side of the boat when it capsized that day. You got disoriented. Forgot to swim for the surface. That’s all it was.”

  He swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew how hard this would be for her and doubted she’d gone fishing or swimming since he’d left town, but there was no way he could change the plan. “You can do this, sugar. I know you can.”

  Fear lacing her eyes, she shook her head.

  “Trust me, Marcy. You. Can. Do this.” He scoured his mind for another way. There was none. “You asked about a plan, and I have one, but I need you out of harm’s way to make it happen.”

  “No. I’m not leaving you here alone with the killer.”

  “Don’t you see? If you’re safe, then I don’t have to worry about protecting you.” JB covered her hands with his. “I’ll keep him busy long enough for you to get in that boat and get the hell away. With you gone, he won’t have anything to hold over me. It’ll just be me and him. And trust me, I don’t go down easy.”

  The look on her face said she’d go along with it. Her escape was his top priority. His personal to-do list—simple. Take the perp out. Or, if there was no other way, let the perp take him out. At least afterwards, the man would have no reason to pursue Marcy, and sooner or later, the local police would catch him.

  Right now, everyone needed time. Good old-fashioned time.

  “Why can’t the police GPS the sheriff’s phone? They should be able to do the same thing he’s doing to us.” She couldn’t stand being immobile anymore, so she paced the perimeter of the room.

  “This guy’s a pro. Probably took him less than a minute to download the numbers. Then, all he had to do was toss the phone in the trash or the lake when he drove across the dam.” He flipped through procedures in his mind. “I would have.”

  She stopped. “You still think it’s the guy who ratted you out during the last job?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why’d he do that?” She walked to the back of his chair and looped her arms around his shoulders. Placed her cheek next to his.

  “If I figure that out, this could all be over.” He grasped her hands, rubbing them in his fingers. “So, back to the question at hand… Can you force yourself to get in the boat and leave?”

  Marcy slid her palm to his chest. She caressed the Kevlar covering his heart, over the spot where the thugs had branded him. “This must have hurt a lot. How did you stand the pain?”

  “I imagined your lips coming to kiss me, not the hot metal.” He pulled her down enough to brush his lips across hers. He’d never tell her the smell as the glowing shield seared into his flesh. How even the memory of their times together hadn’t been enough to keep him from passing out.

  “I’ll do it. If you can stand up to that…” She pointed to the spot on his chest. “…then I can get in the boat.” She rotated around and sat on his lap. “I’ll pretend you’re right beside me and we’re out to catch Sunday dinner.”

  He knew how much effort that would take for her, but she’d work it out. Analyze her weakness and get it done. “Hey, you don’t have your Kevlar on.”

  “I’ll put it on when we have to leave.”

  Shucking her from his lap, he pointed to the bedroom. “Now. Get dressed as if you were going outside except for the coat. When the guy comes, he’ll come hard and fast. We need to be ready.”

  She followed his instructions, returning with her boots as the last thing to put on.

  “Once you get those laced and double-knotted, I want you to put your coat and gloves in the bedroom. Some place easy to grab.”

  His decoy phone rang. Caller ID showed Kennett.

  “Tell me you got something.” He said into the cell.

  “Not much. In fact, some people might think it’s a coincidence.” The rookie paused.

  “I don’t like coincidences.”

  “Me, neither. Hey, close the door. I’m on the phone.” Kennett mumbled something under his breath.

  JB raked his hands through his hair. “Who was that?”

  “Evans.” Silence came through the phone.

  “He still in the office with you?”

  “No, but he’s gonna ask some questions.” Kennett blew out a breath.

  “Blame it on me. Now what’d you get?”

  “Do the numbers 1-0-3-8 ring a bell with you?”

  1038…1038. JB rolled the numbers around his mind. “No. Should they?”

  The sound of papers being flipped echoed through the phone. Kennett cleared his throat. “Here goes. The shooting at the bank occurred at 10:38. From what the soda fountain clock that crashed to the floor read after the explosion, that blast occurred at 10:38. And, from what we got off the small timer on Marcy’s brakes, it looked like she had her near-accident at10:30-something. I’m betting that last digit’s an 8.”

  His mind reached for anything with a 1-0-3-8 in his past. For sure, the numbers meant something.

  “We don’t know what time the guy went in your house last night,” Kennett said.

  “Doesn’t matter. He left a better calling card. Ten .38 bullets.” He glanced at Marcy. “Has the sheriff come out of it yet?”

  “No. He’s in surgery right now.” Kennett opened the door from the sound of the background noises on his end. “If I come up with anything else, I’ll call. Just so you know,” the rookie whispered, “Deputy Evans has his arms crossed over his chest and is staring straight at me. He’s coming this way.”

  “I’m hanging up for now. Keep me informed.” He paced the same route Marcy had minutes ago. “By the way, have you seen Cain around town today?”

  “Once. He barely nodded then kept on walking.” Kennett grunted. “This is a private phone call, Evans.”

  “JB?” Deputy Evans growled, obviously having strong-armed the phone from Kennett.

  JB hated to keep him out of the loop. The man was good. “Yes, sir.”

  “If you and this rookie patrolman are finished with your conversation, I suggest you take a look at a clock and figure out 1038 fast.” Evans muttered something in Kennett’s direction, then turned his mouth back to the phone. “Me and the sheriff noticed the similarity in the timeframes late last night. He gave Landon a call to have him check through your office’s FBI files for the numbers. Wanted to see if there’s a link anywhere. Trouble is the numbers don’t hold through on every incident, though.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the sandwich with the note to Marcy. That was nowhere close to that time.”

  JB floundered for a second. “Did the results on the food get back?”

  “Yeah. Nothing. Just Joanie’s food.”

  “Makes sense then. He didn’t care about the time.” JB said. “He only wanted to scare her. Show us he’s in charge.”

  He could almost see the furrow on the deputy’s forehead. The one the man always got when he calculated case points. “Hey, Evans. Don’t think I’m trying to cut you out of this. I’m just—”

  “Just what?” Evans’ gravely-edged voice was blunt.

  “You’ve got a lot on your plate since the sheriff’s been in the hospital. Plus, have you thought about the fact that whoever took out Leon and the sheriff may know you were part of the investigation?” He wondered how long it would take for the deputy to be a target. “I don’t want to be the one standing on your doorstep telling your family how you went and got yourself hurt on my account.”

  “I’m a cop. I chose to be a cop. And my family chooses to be a cop’s family. So thanks for the consideration, but let’s put it this way… How would you like it if I kept you out of an investigation because you’re married?” Deputy Evan’s voice held strong and sure. “We’re all in this together.”

  The deputy hit the nail on the head. They were all in this together. Ev
er since the last job and the hospital, JB had tried to accept help when someone offered. A hard thing to do when you made your own way most your life. He cricked his neck from side-to-side and faced the simple fact—these people were there to help him and Marcy. “You’re right.”

  Evans chuckled. “I hope this phone’s got a trace going, ‘cause I want to play those words to the unit when this is over. Now hang up, so this cop can go do his job.”

  “Thanks. Let me know what Landon comes up with.” JB paused. “By the way, if you see Cain, tell him thanks for the loan of his cabin. It’s real nice.”

  He ended the phone call and glanced at his wife still tying her boots. This cabin was simple and welcoming with its sunrise picture above the knotty pine headboard. The lake stone fireplace, with heavy, black andirons and three-inch, oak mantle. Smells of fried fish and bacon that wafted from the vent over the stove every time it was turned on. If Marcy and he survived, maybe they’d see about buying the property.

  She finished double-knotting her shoelaces and looked up. Smiled at him along with a ta-da of her hands.

  “Real nice.” He grinned at the woman he loved. “Real, real nice.”

  …

  Sitting at the table for what seemed like hours, but was really only about fifteen minutes, Marcy concentrated on the map JB explained for the second time. He planned to hide one of his guns, the poker from the fireplace, and an extra clip for the Glock outside the cabin. The first time he went over the placements, she lost track halfway through.

  After gauging the annoyance of his sigh before he started his spiel again, she listened. Focused. Steps and yards and meters jumbled in her head. North, south, east, and west meant nothing to her. Still she listened. Focused.

  He glanced up at her own deep sigh. “What?”

  She bit her lip. “Nothing.”

  “Then why the sigh?”

  “What sigh?”

  He turned the map over. “Where are the hiding spots?”

  “Which one?”

  With a tiny quirk of a snarl and deliberate narrowing of his eyes, he cocked his head to one side, breathed in deep, and blew out long. “For any of the weapons I just mentioned.”