Risk of a Lifetime (13 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Marcy felt like she’d slept for days, when in truth, she’d nodded on and off for the past couple of hours on the sofa in the sheriff’s office. Every noise she heard outside the room put her on edge. JB and the sheriff must have been gone for a while, because the first time she heard their voices had been about twenty minutes ago.

She swung her legs over the side and sat up on the cushion. Time to face the world. Shuffling her fingers through her hair and accepting the lip gloss her mother offered were the extent of any attempts she made to improve her appearance.

Truman led the way out the door, then Sadie, then Marcy. She glanced around the room until she recognized JB’s shoulders. Her insides relaxed with the thought that he would be the one taking her home. She didn’t have to be afraid with JB around. Even if she had made somebody angry…very, very angry. She needed JB closer, so she stepped in his direction, but, intent on his conversation, he didn’t turn to face her.

“Wilson, if you call my cell phone, you’ll reach the Crayton Police Department, ‘cause I’ve got a new one.” Voices echoed through the speaker phone.

“Damn it.” His boss gritted out the words. “Give me the number.”

“No. Technically, I don’t work for you or anyone else right now. I only called to keep you in the loop.” JB swept his right hand to the Glock in his shoulder holster as the front door opened. “You want to get a message to me, talk to Sheriff Davis or Deputy Evans.”

The rookie walked in with a couple surveillance disks dangling from his hand.

“Or Patrolman Kennett. Don’t leave information with anyone else. Got that?”

“If you tell me your plans, I can cut my vacation short and give you a hand.” Wilson’s tone sounded attentive. “I assume you’ll be heading to some type of safe house there in the area.”

“Crayton doesn’t have a safe house, but I’ve got a place lined up.”

“Tell me where, and I’ll get some coordinates on the place. Who knows, you may need the Bureau’s help at keeping your ex-wife safe.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m good with the few people in the area knowing where we’re headed.” JB stood, cricking his neck from side to side. “Besides, it could take a while getting this mess straightened.”

Wilson grunted. “I thought you were already divorced.”

“Yeah. But as far as I’m concerned, she’s still my responsibility. If I make it out alive, I’ll get in touch with you.”

She rubbed the pads of her fingers from the bridge of her nose across her eyelids and stopped. What was he talking about? Safe house? Hiding? Sounded like some kind of plan had been put into play while she slept. Shouldn’t she have been involved?

JB’s touch brought her back to the present.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, shoving the phone in his pocket.

“Nothing.” She shook his hand free. Fought the threatening tears. Make it out alive didn’t sound good. Didn’t sound like something she wanted him to take on out of responsibility for her.

Responsibility…responsibility…

A flood of memories rushed her emotions.

The last time her dad left on an assignment, she’d begged him to stay home for her kindergarten play. She had a leading role. He’d said he couldn’t. Said he had responsibilities. Her mother would record it, and they’d all watch the video when he got back. She’d cried, explaining it wouldn’t sound the same, wouldn’t look real. He’d hugged her and told her he was sorry, but he had to go. Some responsibilities couldn’t be pushed aside. She’d needed him…needed him there—then. Instead, he’d rejected her for his job. For a case that cost him his life.

Now here was JB, feeling responsible for her. Either he’d end up dead because of her. Or reject her once everything was settled. Reject her and leave for another case. She couldn’t face either of those. She wouldn’t be an obligation to hold him back, but she also wouldn’t let losing him break her heart. Somehow she’d push him away like she had before. She just needed time to figure out how to do it before he got himself killed.

“My eyes were watering from the dry air in here. You know how contacts make your eyes feel funny after sleeping in them.”

JB frowned. “You don’t wear contacts, Marcy.”

“So?” Babbling was the best she could do for the moment. A plan to get her defenses back in place would take a little time. For the past few days, she actually thought about telling him how much she wanted him to stay. To admit she’d pushed him away. To tell him the truth about…no, she’d been right to hold onto her secret. Ultimately, she was nothing but an inconvenient responsibility.

Sheriff Davis motioned JB over to his phone. “It’s the call you were expecting.”

JB palmed her cheek. “You’re just tired. You need to eat. Get some carbs in your body. Protein.” He closed his fingers around hers and pulled her along behind him, then sat her in the chair closest to him when he picked up the receiver from the desk phone. “Someone get her a soda and some peanut butter crackers from the vending machine.”

“Chocolate.” Marcy folded her arms on the desk. If she had to be part of this, then she needed caffeine, calories, and chocolate. “I want three chocolate candy bars.” She glanced at JB “And two Paydays.”

“Thanks.” A grin lightened his face as he shot her a wink, then he turned back to his phone call. “Cain, if you’re still willing to help, I’ve got a plan…thanks… This is what I’m thinking…”

Marcy zoned out from the conversation. What had happened to her life in the past couple weeks? For some reason, the thought of being dead before morning didn’t compare to the feeling that would come when JB left again. No, when she forced him to leave again. Otherwise, he’d never leave…too damn principled.

He’d stay to complete every project, unless someone told him to leave sooner. The moment she had him alone, she’d tell him to go. Let the Crayton Police take care of her. She could handle pushing him away a lot better than waiting for him to reject her later. Suddenly, it dawned on her. She hadn’t shoved him away for his sake years ago. She’d done it for her own peace of mind. Done it so she wouldn’t have to feel the pain if he chose the FBI over her.

Her mother sat a soda in front of her and pressed an opened candy bar in her hands. Marcy went on automation. Bite, chew, swallow, drink…bite, chew, swallow, drink.

Glancing around, she realized everybody in the room had stayed for her. They’d been there through the years. And had put themselves on the front line for her now. Was she the only one who had enveloped her emotions in a cocoon since she was a child? Faced anything but her own emotional peril?

The front door pushed open a second before the scent of pepperoni and sausage and onion and green peppers filled the space. Joanie plunked three large pizza boxes on the front desk, then detoured in Marcy’s direction. “Figured you might be hungry.”

Second through the door, Burt set down another three boxes. “Me and the boss made these ourselves. Haven’t let them out of our sight. So chow down.”

Marcy hugged her friend, then the cook. “You guys are the best.”

“Okay.” JB walked up beside her, took her hand in his free one while the other still held the phone. “Let me know as soon as things are lined up on your end.” He punched a button on his mobile, ending the call.

“Are you hungry?” Joanie asked, giving him a hug.

“Starving, but we gotta go.” JB tugged Marcy behind him.

She resisted until he stopped at the doorway. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You and me are gone.” He took her by the elbow. “That’s the only way I can protect you until we get this figured out.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Uncle Cal will watch out for me.” She yanked away. “Besides, this is my mess. Not yours. I made someone mad. Not you.”

Oxygen seemed to be sucked out of the air as the room quieted.

“I don’t think this is about you, Marcy.” The pained expression on JB’s face tore at her heart for a second. He sighed heavy before clenching his jaw. “In my opinion, whoever’s doing this is angry at me. Followed me to Crayton. To you.”

“How do you know?” She swayed for a second then steadied herself against the bookcase.

“That’s just one possibility, JB,” Sheriff Davis said. “You could be wrong.”

“No… I can feel it in my gut. I brought this guy to Marcy’s doorstep the minute I stepped foot in town.” JB moved in front of her. “If walking outside and letting him shoot me would end this, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

She inhaled, deep and loud. When he brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek, she tilted into his warmth.

“Only this jerk wants to kill you.” JB’s voice broke for an instant. “Wants to make me live without you forever. You were right about danger following me. This time it followed me right to you. And there’s no easy way out for either of us.”

Leaning against his chest, she let the impact of his words sink in as his arms folded around her. She knew JB would fight to his last breath before he let anything happen to her. Each other…their lives depended on each other. No one else could save them.

“Will you trust me, Marcy? Go where I can keep you safe?” He eased his arms away.

“Wouldn’t we be safer here in town?”

Shaking his head, he puffed a loud sigh. “There are too many people in Crayton. Too many possible suspects. We’ve got to narrow the trail so the police can track him down.”

Her mind followed his words. Grasped his meaning. “You mean lure him to us?”

“Yes. We can’t just sit around waiting for his next attack.” He zeroed his look on hers. “I’ll do whatever is needed to keep you safe. But, first, I need you to trust me enough to go along with the plan. Can you do that? Will you let me get us some place safe while the police do their job?”

She nodded, then nodded again. A deep sigh purged her nerves as JB walked back to the doorway. She made her round of hugs to Truman, Uncle Cal, and her mother. Sadie’s hold tightened, but Marcy pushed away. She had to go with JB. She’d put his shove up against anybody’s in the world.

He held out his hand to her, and she reached for it as she walked toward him. The two of them stepped outside, the door closing behind. Parked at the curb right in front of the station was JB’s truck. A police officer stationed on each side meant the truck had been swept for security.

JB and Marcy eased into the cab and pulled away as she looked out the rear window. His hand closed over hers, squeezed. She turned back around. One or both of them could be killed before this ended. The thought coated her with apprehension and fear. As long as they were together, she could face her death. His? Never.

She might as well face the truth. She still loved JB more than life itself. From the moment he bumped in to her during seventh grade math to a few moments ago when she made sure to get him the Payday’s he liked so much, she loved him. If she had to, she’d step in front of a bullet for him. Didn’t mean they’d stay together once this was over, but for now, they were each other’s rock.

She leaned against his shoulder to absorb some of his strength. Suddenly, calmness ebbed through her.

“I got you, sugar.” His hand squeezed again. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Straightening, she forced a weak smile and nodded. “I know.”

But what about him? He reached for one of the candy bars she still clutched in her hand, and she ripped the wrapping open for him.

Would he step in front of the bullet for her? Yes. Would he give up his life for hers? Yes. Would he take her some place safe, then leave? No. He’d stay. Stay until the end.

Even his own.

Chapter Sixteen

“You’re awfully quiet.” JB reached for the second candy bar Marcy held ready for him. “Did you eat anything?”

She nodded. “We should have brought one of the pizzas.”

“Pizza would leave a scent the worst tracker on earth could follow. We’ll eat later.” He sped up, checking the mirror for headlights. None. Good. Rounding a blind curve, he slowed and checked the mirror again for anyone who might have sped up to catch them. Nothing. Good. Every minute they gained meant one more point for him and Marcy.

She flipped the heat on to low.

“You cold?” he said.

Nodding, she reached for one of his jackets. Once she snuggled inside the oversized coat and zipped it, she looked like a child playing dress-up. Her safe, little world here in Crayton had been shattered. Shattered by him. He should have stayed away. Trouble was, he didn’t want to stay away. He checked the rearview mirror one more time.

The FBI agent in him clued her in on the escape scenario. Just like any witness he’d protected, she didn’t need to know the particulars, just bits and pieces. She was smart and self-reliant, but they were playing in his ballpark now. He knew she could pull this off. She didn’t need to know how bad the situation might get. He knew, though. He knew they faced a crazed killer who’d stop at nothing to seek his revenge.

JB accepted the fact that the creep was from his past. Coupled with the job he just finished, there could be only one conclusion. Had to be the same psycho who’d ratted him out, landing him in the hospital with scars to last a lifetime. Only this torture was on a whole different level. A personal level.

“Looks like we’re headed home. How’s that going into hiding?” She shivered.

He turned the heat dial to high. “We’ll only stay long enough to set the plan the sheriff and I devised into play.”

“What do you mean?”

“When we get to the house, I want you to throw a toothbrush, change of clothes, and whatever else you need in a backpack. Don’t make it heavier than you can carry.” After jerking his head to catch the driver’s profile in a passing car of the oncoming lane, he turned back to the road ahead. Slowed as they neared their street. “Don’t turn the light on in the bedroom while we’re there.”

She scooted closer to him. “What about you?”

“I’ll toss a few things in another pack.” He pulled up to the house. Turned the key off. “With luck, whoever’s watching our house will think we’re here for the night. No matter what, we have to set the lure and reel the creep in. Hopefully, that will be all the sheriff needs to catch him. If not, then you and I will take off through the woods once I get a call from Davis.”

“Where to after that?”

“We’ll sneak out the back and hike to the other truck I told you about.”

“Why can’t we just stay here at the house? You can protect me no matter where we are.”

“Whoever’s doing this is a pro. If we just sit here surrounded by police, he could go into hiding for years before he strikes us again. We’re not going to live like that. Right now’s the time to make him mad enough to make a mistake.” He grinned. “And chasing us through the woods I know like the back of my hand may prove so damn frustrating to him that he tips over the little edge of sanity he still has. Very few people know these woods like me. Very few.”

JB stuffed ammo from the hidden side door compartment into his pockets. Grabbed his extra Glock, knife, and leg strap from the headliner. “Remember Cain Connery?”

She nodded.

“He’s back in town and offered to help.”

“Do you trust him?”

“I did a little checking. Ends up he’s with DEA.”

She blew out a sigh. “So where are we going?”

“I’ll take you to his old man’s fishing cabin over by the lake. Cain and I used to hang out around there. He’s been staying there while he gets his dad’s house in shape, but he’ll stay in town.” JB loaded the extra Glock and handed it to Marcy. “You remember how to use one of these?”

She nodded, again.

“Want a holster?”

“No, I’ll use my coat pocket.”

The Marcy he remembered had a more than healthy respect for guns but knew how to load, aim, and shoot. The gun didn’t scare her. Shooting a person? She could. Worst case scenario, she would. Living with the guilt would come later.

“By the way, this guy may have audio equipment targeted on the house, but we’ve set up a block until I click the detection equipment into action. Ready?”

She blew a long, slow breath through her lips. “Let’s go.”

“Okay. Curtain up. Act one. Time to play the game. Pretend it’s any normal day.” He grinned as he slid from the truck. “You know…like last night when you tried to kill me with that damn soup.”

She opened the passenger door. “Can I help it if you don’t know how to say you’re sick?” She dropped to her feet. “See if I ever make minestrone again. In fact, I’ve decided to go on strike when it comes to cooking.” She clutched his jacket tight around her.

He slung his arm across her shoulder, and they walked inside. Set the lock and closed the shutters at the kitchen window. He used to hate those wooden-sun-blockers as he always called them. Tonight, they were invaluable.

Still doing their chit-chat thing, he sat a listening device on the counter, nodded to her, and clicked the button. They walked to the living room and turned on the lights, closed the blinds. If the perp tried to listen in on them, the device on the counter would alert them. Until then, they could talk normally.

She picked up her horticulture book and headed down the hallway.

“What are you gonna do with that?” He turned on the kitchen light and pulled her against him to whisper in her ear.

“Take it with me.”

“No. Too heavy.”

She shot him one of her looks that could get him to agreeing with anything. Not this time. “Marcy, I’ve got my own backpack. Guns and ammo. And, if push comes to shove, I’ve got to be able to react on a breath.” He hovered over her as she did her patiently listening routine. “No. No book.”

“Okay.” She walked into the bedroom to pack with the book still in her hand.

Who did she think she was fooling with that compliance routine? He knew she’d put the damn thing in her backpack then shuck it halfway to the cabin when even an ounce of extra weight felt like a hundred pounds.

Clicking on the radio, he slipped down the hall, packed his bag, and stashed it beneath the window in the guest bedroom. They’d make their getaway from there. He returned to the living room and hoped she’d be ready when the sheriff’s call came.

By his estimate, the replacement truck should already be in place out on Oak Hill Road, so there was nothing left to do but wait for one of two things to happen. Either, the perp would activate the listening device, or the police hidden in the neighborhood would pick up his movement in the direction of their house. With luck, the police might even nab him. Luck had been with them the past few days. Maybe there’d be a little left in the tank.

He settled back on the sofa and waited. Still no Marcy. Where was she? How long could it take to shove a few things in a backpack? He headed down the hallway and found her leaning against the wall. A backpack on one side of her feet, a duffle on the other side. How much stuff did she think he’d let her take?

Grabbing the backpack, he walked over to the window in the guest bedroom and dropped it next to his on the floor. The thud as the thing landed told him the book was inside. Aw, hell. He moved the book to his backpack.

But, for damn sure the other bag she had in the hallway wasn’t going.

“Marcy?”

“I’m in the living room.”

He walked to the sound of her voice, turned the corner, and caught a glimpse of the other duffle sitting by the front door. Looked like his big bag. Looked like the bag she packed years ago. The one he’d returned to Crayton with.

“I’ve decided I’m not going.” She sat on the arm of the sofa. “I’ve decided I don’t want you around here anymore.” She motioned to the bag. “I’ve packed your stuff, so it’s time for you to go.” She stood, defiant as hell, pointing to the door. “You promised you’d leave when this is over. Well, I don’t want you getting hurt for me, so go now.”

“No.” He narrowed his eyes on hers. “We don’t have time for this right now.”

She stormed to the adjoining dining room, pulled open a drawer in the china cabinet, and rummaged to the bottom. Returning, she slapped a big, white envelope on the coffee table. “Know what this is? This is the divorce papers you signed.”

He glanced down fast enough to see the attorney’s name and return address on the label. “Yeah. I know all about us being divorced. You sent. I signed. I get it.”

“But I never signed them.”

“We’re wasting time here.” He turned to walk to the kitchen. Stopped. Something in her words jabbed him like a knife and twisted. He pivoted back to face her. “What the hell did you say?”

“I never signed the papers.” Her face flushed, her chin issued an occasional quiver, and she blinked. “Never filed them. So we’re…we’re—”

“Still married?”

Biting on her bottom lip, she nodded.

Sonofabitch. Damittohell. And every other curse word he’d ever used struggled not to come out of his mouth. “Me? You and me are still married?”

“Yes, JB. We’re still married.” She dumped the envelope’s contents on the corner desk, then rummaged in the drawer and came up empty-handed. “Don’t worry. I’ll file the papers tomorrow.”

What? What did she mean don’t worry? His whole world had just stopped with a magnitude eight earthquake hitting his epicenter. They were still married. Him. Her. This wasn’t good. Not good on so many levels. So worry was exactly what he intended to do.

“Maybe I’m being a little slow on the uptake, but how did this happen?” He raked his hand through his hair. “Did you get busy with a hair appointment? Or shopping? Or maybe you just forgot where you put the envelope.”

“Trust me, I didn’t forget.” She raised her chin in defiant rebuttal. “Like I said, I’ll file the papers tomorrow.”

File them tomorrow? She’d file them tomorrow. Hell, by this time tomorrow, they’d probably be dead or fighting for their lives. He started to laugh. Couldn’t stop himself. Laughed louder. She was going to file the divorce papers tomorrow…then what? Have a pedicure?

“Don’t you think that’s a little late, Marcy?”

“Stop laughing. This is serious.”

“Damn right this is serious.” He grabbed her shoulders, turning her toward him. “Why the hell didn’t you finalize the divorce when I sent the paperwork back?”

“I don’t know.”

“Not good enough. Why?”

“Because I couldn’t believe you signed the papers.” She wiggled out of his hold. “Why did you sign them?”

“You sent them. I signed them.”

She shoved her hands against his chest. “As you said a while ago, not good enough.”

Covering her hands with his own, realization of this situation began to set in. “Because that’s what you wanted, Marcy. I always gave you what you wanted. You wouldn’t have sent the papers if you hadn’t really wanted the divorce.”

She jerked her hands away. “Not fair. That’s not fair.”

“Fair? You want to talk about fair?” He kicked the tote bag across the living room. Sure he’d never received the final divorce decree, but he’d figured those papers were waiting for him somewhere. “For over a year, I’ve believed I’m a divorced man. Single. With all the rights and privileges that word implies. What if I’d remarried?”

Gripping her fingers in the front of his shirt, she shook the fabric with all her might, as her fisted hands bounced off his chest. “Did you? Did you get remarried?”

“No. No, I’m not married. Except to you, that is.”

Her fingers loosened, and she stepped aside.

He focused on what to say next. What not to say.

His marriage vows had been sacred to him. But once she sent the divorce papers, and he signed… Well, he hadn’t been a saint for damn sure. There’d been a lot of nights he’d searched for someone to take her place. None ever worked out in the light of day, though. Most hadn’t even worked out in a room’s darkness.

“I can’t believe I’ve been in town all this time and not so much as a hint at us still being married. Who else knows about this?”

That had to be what Sadie wanted to tell him back at the police station when Truman stopped her. The man would have realized that by JB knowing they were still married, it put another level of pressure on the whole survival gig. Anger he’d had from her divorcing him was null and void now. Didn’t mean they’d get back together, just meant they’d have time to talk in a civilized tone and walk away friends.

“Doesn’t matter.” Again, she rummaged through the desk drawer.

“What are you looking for?”

“A damn pen.” She slammed the drawer closed. “I need a pen to sign the papers. That way, you’ll have to go before you get hurt because of me.”

What made her bring this up now? He sure as heck didn’t know, but now wasn’t the time to argue. Plus, he damn sure didn’t intend to leave the house without her. So divorced or not was a moot point at the moment.

He walked over, picked up the divorce papers, flipped to the signature page, and carefully ripped out the area with his signature. Looked at her blank line and ripped it out, too. “Now you don’t need a pen.”

“What the heck do you think you’re doing?” Marcy’s voice raised at least an octave as he placed her signature section in her hand.

He tore the divorce papers in half, then half again before placing them back in the envelope. “If you want a divorce, looks like you’ll have to process the papers again.” He ripped his signature into shreds before wadding it in a ball and shoving it in his coin pocket where Marcy’s ring had permanent residence.

She stomped down the hall. “I’m not going with you.”

JB followed. “Yes you are.”

“Why? Why do you want me to go?” She leaned back against the wall. “You don’t even want to be here.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“On the phone. At the sheriff’s office.” Disappointment and anger filled her voice. “I heard you say you had to stay here until you got the mess with me figured out.”

“Is that what this is all about? What I said to Wilson?” He grinned, tilted her chin up. “Are you my wife?”