Page 69 of Risk of a Lifetime
“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. Ever 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.”
“Northwest from the corner of the front porch.” Rote memory kicked in for her. “Seventy yards to the oversized, fallen branch.” There, that should make him happy.
“What’s hidden?” JB said.
“The…gun…no, wait a minute. The poker.” She beamed with a correct answer. “Under some leaves.”
“And?”
Should have known he’d expect more. He always wanted more, no matter if it were her, hot coffee, or answers. Her shoulders shrugged without trying. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
He walked to the coffee pot and poured fresh brew into his mug, then returned to the table. “I want you to tell me where the other things are.”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “And I don’t even know which way is northwest.”
“This is important, Marcy. Pay attention.” He lifted his chin slightly before his eyes narrowed enough to look at her in firm rebuke this time. Rebuke she’d never seen in him before. He was worried. “Real important.”
He flipped the map back over and started with the directions once again. North, south, east, and west. Steps, yards, meters. She listened. Focused.
“No, no, no, no, no!” She laid her hand over his. “I can’t understand what you’re saying.”
“It’s all right here on paper.” His voice sounded like an impatient father trying to help his child with homework. “Right here. You just aren’t paying attention.”
