Page 77 of Risk of a Lifetime
“I…you’re right. Takes a smart man to get away with all this.” Wilson paused. “Tell me JB, have you figured out what you did to Landon? What made him want to make you suffer? ‘Cause he’s sure tortured you these past couple weeks. I couldn’t believe he tried to kill your wife right there in the hospital.”
JB punched the wall. Hard and to the point. The son of a bitch on the phone had tried to kill Marcy. He’d been the volunteer with room information back at the hospital, planning everything so Landon would take the fall that day. Even so far as setting the stage to allow Leon out on bail.
Calm, play this calm. “Yeah. Like they say, you never know who your enemies are.”
Wilson chuckled, low and conniving. “Friends…you never know who your friends are.”
“We’ll talk about friends and enemies the next time I see you.” JB ended the call and tossed the phone on the sofa. Didn’t need to talk to anyone else anytime soon. Now, the game centered on the here and now. Him and Marcy.
He knew his friends. They were on their way.
She followed his movements with her eyes. He listened at the window again.
Motioning Marcy to stay quiet, he walked back to her and leaned in close. “You heard me say it’s Wilson?”
She nodded.
“I need to see if he’s set anybody else up. Get him to admit he killed Jennings. Ratted me out.” JB’s lips brushed the hair next to her ear. “I need your help to pull off the plan we talked about. Can you do that? Will you help me?”
She bit her lip, then mouthed. “Yes.”
“Good girl. You can do this.”
She turned to his ear. “What are you going to do?”
He grinned. “Let him in.”
After a quick kiss on her lips, JB pushed her behind him. He turned, she turned. Two people…one movement.
A scratch on the back of the cabin caused him to raise his gun in the direction of the bedroom. Quiet. A lot of quiet seconds. He clocked it on his watch. Cat and mouse sounds or staging sounds? Tiny pecks sounded on the roof like a handful of pebbles being thrown on top. Don’t imagine. Don’t put too much emphasis on any one thing. Could be the rain. The storm. The wind. Could be any number of things.
He zoned into himself, didn’t let his guard down. His back muscles tensed along with his sharpened focus. Adrenaline rampaged through his system. Control. Get the edginess under control. When the moment came, he had to make sure to tell Marcy what to do a second before he reacted.
Wilson had to be outside. Why was he waiting? Didn’t matter. They’d wait him out. Play this out on their own terms.
The two of them stood and turned. Stood and turned, for what seemed like hours. His watch showed ten minutes. Only ten minutes, but more than enough time to set a trap. At least he knew the skunk’s stripe now. One step closer than when he woke up. He processed through the little he knew of Wilson’s routine. Not much there.
Footsteps on the porch. Not quiet. Not sneaking up.
Strong, stomping footsteps. Blunt and in-your-face, I’m-here footsteps.
JB faced the front door, pointed and gripped the Glock with both hands. Squared his stance.
“Hey, JB. Thought you might need help.” Wilson banged on the door. “You in there, JB? Marcy? Let me in. I’ve come to help.”
…
Marcy closed the bedroom door then turned on the shower in the bathroom. Followed the plan. She opened the window where JB’d removed the screen last night. She waited for him to give her the final verbal cue to go. Go out the window, through the trees, down to the lake. He’d told her to climb into the boat and push off.
He’d keep Wilson occupied in the house long enough for her to get away. The script hinged on the jerk believing she was taking a long shower. The ploy hinged on JB risking his life to harvest info from a man crazy enough to blow up a building in broad daylight.
A slight quiver ran the length of her body. From the bits she figured out from JB’s phone conversation, Wilson intended to make her husband hurt the same way he’d hurt. In fact, this guy would probably look her in the face and truthfully say it wasn’t personal as he shot her. Might not be personal to him, but it was mighty personal to her. The idea of JB being hurt in any way was more than she could bear to think about.
She waited.
Getting into the boat frightened her. The idea of being in the middle of the lake by herself scared the bageebers out of her. Sure, she could swim. That wasn’t the point. The boat and the water were the fear factor. Rubbing the back of her head, she half expected to still feel the lump from hitting her head on the side of the boat the day it had capsized years ago. If JB hadn’t jumped in to save her, she’d have sunk to the bottom.
She remembered fighting the water and herself and him. Water mixed with bubbles. Bubbles from her nose as they headed to the light of the water’s surface high above her. Another quiver ran her body. Then another.Fight the fear.All she had to do was get out the window, run to the dock, and fight the fear of the water.
