Page 57 of Risk of a Lifetime
She snuggled under the blanket. “You know, from a purely psychological reasoning, I think the guy’s trying to make you suffer. Sure, he wants to take me out, but mainly he’s in it to make you feel a pain he’s felt. You know…like you hurt his woman or daughter or mother, someone like that, and he’ll hurt yours.”
“I’ve already thought of that.” He leaned his head against hers.
“And when the time comes to settle the score, he needs to see your reaction as I die. Then he can live the rest of his life at peace knowing his revenge was complete.”
See his reaction? His reaction would be to kill the damn sonofabitch.
Still, what she’d said was an interesting deduction. One he could use. That might be what the jerk wanted, but he’d use the plan against him when the time came.
“Thanks, sugar.”
“For what?”
“An idea.” He needed to think on a decoy to be the final lure when the time came. “Guess you were right, danger follows where ever I go. I should never have come back.”
She brushed a kiss across his lips. “I’m glad you did, though.”
Cain kept the truck moving down the road, his eyes never looking back. Never a hint that he could hear everything that had been said.
JB tried to think what they might have missed. Too much at stake for him to overlook any clue. If the clues were there, they were hidden like a man covering more than his tracks. Like someone covering from a trained background.
“Here’s something else. He’s reacting to a perceived wrong. One you may not even know happened.” She elbowed up just a bit, looked him in the eye. “Yes, he wants you to be there when I die. He won’t decide whether to let you live or not until then, either.”
He knew what she meant. Seeing her die, knowing he hadn’t been able to stop it, would be the ultimate suffering. And to live with that would be even worse than dying.
“Of course, that all depends on how far he’s gone over the edge of reason by the time he finds us.” Sighing, she laid back down. “Bottom line…who knows I’m your wife?”
“Not just that. They’d need to know where you live and that I’d be here.”
How would anyone have known he’d head back to Crayton at this exact time? Sure, he’d thought about heading home after Jennings was killed, but he’d shaken it off. There’d even been the meth lab bust that went bad when he worked with Landon for the first time. Still he’d decided to stay with the FBI. Wasn’t until after he’d been hurt on the last case that the idea—go home, see his ex-wife, make amends—kept flashing in his mind. Then the reprimand for nothing from Wilson had been the tipping point.
None of this fell together. At least, none he could see right now. Maybe he’d think better after a little sleep himself. Otherwise, the only rationale was that they followed him and chanced on the perfect setting to make him suffer. Not likely.
Sliding her hand from under the cover just enough to touch his body, she closed her eyes. A few miles later, her soft sleep sounds pulsed in his ear.
JB flipped the attacks through his mind, piecing them together with what she’d said about the thug chasing them to see if anything shook out. Could the would-be killer have seen his reaction each time? Been getting off on the rage and misery he saw JB experience in each desperate moment?
The bank shooting. Had the shooter actually tried to kill Marcy or just wound her? The office building explosion. He’d got her phone call to pick her up. Had there been a listening device in her office? After all, he’d only been half a block away when the blast ricocheted through the air.
If this guy were that sophisticated in his techniques, then there’d be no way to trace the bullets or the note back at the house. There’d be no evidence from the crawl space underneath the place. There’d be no prints. No DNA. Nothing that didn’t belong there.
JB’d done the same in his undercover work. Having all the procedures thrown back in his face was either a blessing—because he knew what to look for—or a trail to the end, because the person had figured out his modus operandi. In which case, that meant every reaction he made would be calculated into the creep’s plan.
Who knew him that well? Who knew how much Marcy meant to him? Or was that just a guess?
Cain glanced over the seat. “She asleep?”
“Yeah. What did you get from the notes?”
“Cat and mouse.”
“Exactly.” JB leaned his head back. “Cat and mouse. In fact, she may be right about him trying to make me feel his pain. Maybe leaving me alive as more punishment.”
“You’ve riled somebody mighty crazy out there.” Cain shook his head. “This isn’t about some gang retaliation or a hit being put on you. This is flat out personal. I bet there’s a link between this and your past couple cases.”
JB’s thoughts flashed to the last case. The thugs beat him within an inch of his life, slashed the knife across his chest until one of the guy’s stopped the others. Said their orders were to keep him alive. So they burned his shield into his chest and threw him in the gutter. Now this. “That’s my thinking, too. You been with the DEA long?”
“Long enough to know you follow the roadmap back to whoever’s out to get you. Check off the players in your past jobs. Don’t leave anybody out as a suspect. Nobody.”
