Page 76 of Risk of a Lifetime
JB dialed his ex-boss. He needed to know why the man had made him a target. He’d racked his memory for an answer. A reason. Knowing why would give him an edge. Allow him to turn the tables on the killer. Might even be enough to get out of this alive.
“What do you need, JB?” Wilson answered like a man in charge. Concerned. Willing to help. Like a man who actually cared.
For an instant, the thought crossed JB’s mind that maybe Landon had played them all. But it passed. He’d concentrate on Wilson for the moment. “Tell me about the two women victims.”
Papers shuffled again. Or was that the sound of dried leaves crunching beneath a boot? Slapping at clothing as someone ran through the bushes?
“No one ever came forward to claim the remains on one of them. You and Landon came up with the identification on the other woman. Twenty-six. A runaway who latched onto the city and stayed. You two tracked down the parents. Dad a farmer. Mom a gift shop manager. Landon arranged to ship her body back to Oklahoma. Only thing he did right on that job.”
JB jogged his memory. “I never helped ID anybody on that case. Give me a minute to think.”
He concentrated on the day of the bust. The going in. The blast. The wrap-up. The processing. The paperwork and sign-off. Nothing else. No Mom. No Dad. No Oklahoma. In fact, the only time he talked to Landon was an hour after the blast when he’d finally showed up. Said he’d overslept. Said a wreck on the highway had slowed him down. Said he’d forgotten his phone. From the little JB had seen Landon up until then, he’d always seemed like a rock-hard lean-over-the-edge protocol type of special agent. That day, he’d seemed off. Almost human. JB had found him standing in a corner at one point, staring at the floor.
JB forced himself to see the room in detail. Landon had squeezed the bridge of his nose. Face red as a stop light. Looked at the ceiling. Steadied against the wall. Squeezed the bridge of his nose again. JB had asked him if something was wrong. Landon had said he was just coming down with a cold.
Wilson had walked in about that time. The man had stared at the floor. Bent next to a young woman’s body. Blond hair. Black, leather boots. Even touched her hand, her hair. Brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. Strange behavior for an agent. Especially one who’d been in charge of the bust until that morning. Then he’d jumped up and walked out the door. Said he’d get out of the way.
Landon had said he would finish up his side of the paperwork at home. JB had never seen him again until he’d shown up in Marcy’s hospital room.
JB blew out a sigh. Time to push. To antagonize. “Carla. The woman from Oklahoma was named Carla. Right?”
“Right. How did you know if you didn’t help with the ID?” Wilson laced his voice with accusation.
“You mentioned her.”
“I never mentioned Carla at work.”
Quiet, quiet, quiet.
Had Wilson realized what he said?
“Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it was someone else who knew a Carla.”
“That’s right. B…because I never knew…never… There are lot…lots of women named Carla in the world.” Wilson seemed to choke on the words.
“Yeah, couldn’t have been you. That guy always talked about his girlfriend. Some woman named Carla.” JB had him dead to rights. Everything that had happened since he’d arrived in Crayton was revenge. Revenge for someone Wilson loved. JB loved Marcy. Everything fell into place. “The guy talked about how they were going to South America. A vacation. Might even find a place to buy. Wish I could remember who that was.”
He knew exactly who it was. Wilson. At the time, JB had wondered how they could afford a vacation property on an FBI salary. He’d figured the woman must be rich. The way Wilson had talked about her, one would have thought she was the greatest thing he’d ever had in his life. Must have been to push him to this.
A bump on the side of the house jerked his attention in that direction. After walking to the window, he leaned his ear against the louvers. He could swear he heard a footstep on the porch. Not loud but still a footstep. JB’s anger roiled. When you couldn’t even trust your backup, you were on the devil’s doorstep.
Wilson panted. “You never did say where you were hiding.”
What the hell. The man had to be close anyhow. “We’re at a friend’s cabin on the lake.”
“Bet you even got one of them green wooden swings facing the lake on the front porch. Maybe a tractor-looking bird feeder on the rail.”
JB glanced out the window at the green swing. The bird feeder.
The man was close. Close as the wind outside.
There was one more thing that had been gnawing on JB’s mind. “Hey, when did you contact Landon about coming to Crayton?”
“I left him a voice mail right after you and I talked that afternoon. He didn’t call back until about 8:00 the next morning. Why?”
“Then how did he manage to be in my wife’s hospital room by nine o’clock that morning? Springfield is a good three hours away. It’s almost like he planned everything from the start. What do you think? Why would he do that? Of course, I guess a really smart mastermind would have thought of everything.”
JB waited for a response. Maybe that would be enough to goad Wilson into making a mistake. Into taking credit. Make him confess everything now, so the final confrontation could be quick and done.
