by Roger Weston
The Assassin’s Wife
By Roger Weston
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, dialogue, and plot are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Weston Publishing Enterprises
All rights reserved.
Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57
CHAPTER58
CHAPTER 59
CHAPTER 60
CHAPTER 61
CHAPTER 62
CHAPTER 63
CHAPTER 64
CHAPTER 65
CHAPTER 66
CHAPTER 67
CHAPTER 68
CHAPTER 69
CHAPTER 70
CHAPTER 71
CHAPTER 72
CHAPTER 73
CHAPTER 74
CHAPTER 75
CHAPTER 76
CHAPTER 77
CHAPTER 78
CHAPTER 79
CHAPTER 1
It was a typical day until she saw Eric with the wood box. She was sitting on their porch, her long legs crossed with one ankle perfectly nestled on the round knotty pine railing, soaking up the mountain sun. She had just returned from a run in the woods and was so thankful to be at their cabin for the week. It was their one indulgence in life. A place to retreat. She took a deep breath of the warm mountain air, enjoying the smell of the white pines and tamaracks. When she saw Eric, her husband, walking by holding a coffin-shaped wood box as if it were a baby, she knew something was up. He threw a quick glance at the cabin, but didn’t notice her behind the large dogwood shrub. He rushed to the wood shop with his head down and disappeared inside.
Meg was not a particularly suspicious woman, or at least she hadn't been for many years. During the first few years of their marriage, she had been excessively suspicious, but that had more to do with her father than with Eric.
Over the years, she had learned that all men were not like her father. There were some good men—men like Eric, men who could be trusted. Eric had never cheated on her and never treated her poorly. He was not perfect, but as far as Meg was concerned, he was about as close to perfect as she could have hoped for. When on occasion he hurt her feelings, he was contrite and apologetic, never defensive. Quite the opposite. He was gentle, thoughtful, and loving. He was a wonderful listener and rarely lectured. He showed no interest in other women. He had been a good husband, far better than she could have ever expected. Of course there was the pain of not being able to have children, and his work required him to be away for long stretches of time, but she always had drama classes at the university to teach and plays to direct, so she couldn't complain. When Eric was away, she was able to really focus on her plays. She loved the constant drama and conflict in plays, but was glad her real life wasn’t like that. She loved the life Eric gave her, simple and honest. In ten years, she had never known him to hide anything from her. So when she observed his anxious glance and hurried gait as he clung to the mysterious wood box, she needed to know what was in it.
When the phone rang, Meg didn't respond at first. She wished she had turned it off like she usually did when they were up here. But then, on impulse, she jumped up and took the call. It was for Eric. She called him out of the shop. He took the call and then turned to leave.
“What’s going on?” Meg said.
“It's nothing,” he said in his calm and soft voice. “I'm just disappointed.”
“About what?”
“That was Len Ackerman. There's a problem at one of his properties in Seattle. I’m not sure yet, but we may have to leave tonight.”
Len was Eric's only big client, a man who lived in Madrid and had a habit of calling at the worst times about some crisis that required immediate attention.
Meg looked at him for a few moments in silence. Her mind played back a memory of her childhood, a memory of her father lying to her mother. Meg knew her father was lying. Her mother didn't believe him either. And he knew they knew he was lying, but he didn't really care. He knew if he intimidated her mother, she would cave in because she feared his temper. He was a mean person. But that was her father.
The silence between Meg and Eric was thick. Stay calm, girl. Don't overreact.
“It didn't sound like Len,” Meg said. She said it nicely and innocently, as if her blood wasn't on fire at the thought of him lying to her.
Eric shrugged. “He’s probably sick or something. Look, I'll be in the shop for a while. I’ve got some organizing to do.”
Meg reached out and grabbed his arm. “What's going on, Eric? I need to know.”
Eric stood there looking slightly puzzled.
“What are you doing out there?” Meg said. “I saw you walk up from the car earlier carrying a box. It looked like you were trying to hide it.”
He smiled warmly. “Oh, is that what this is all about? It was supposed to be a surprise. It’s a present for you. Really, Meg, everything is fine.”
Meg stood there for a moment with her lips parted. “Then why did you look so serious?”
He shrugged. “I was hoping you wouldn’t see me,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I guess I failed on that one.”
Meg didn’t know how to respond. She felt ashamed for doubting him. She sighed. “Can’t we at least wait until morning to leave?”
Eric thought about it for a moment. “I don’t think it’s going to work out. I’m sorry.”
“Eric, we just got here.”
“I know how you feel. I—”
“I don’t want to leave. Can we please stay another night?”
“Look,” he said. “I’m really burnt out. I’m going to go on a run and then work in the shop for awhile. Okay? I’ll be back in an hour or two. I guess we can stay the night.”
Meg nodded her head and smiled. She could trust Eric. He’d never let her down. She should never have doubted him.
Later that evening, Meg fell asleep while reading.
It was 1 a.m. when she woke up. She heard a whisper of a sound, enough of a sound to draw her out of her sleep. But there were always sounds at night out here in the woods. In such a secluded area, the sounds of nature were as loud as the city.
She
rolled over and reached for Eric. He wasn't there. Where was he? Another sound. So slight. The door hinges.
Meg lay in bed unmoving. She listened with all of her capacity and held her breath as long as she could. Five minutes went by without another sound. But then she heard it again. A tiny little squeak, barely audible. But it was not the door. It was the sound of the laminate wood flooring in the hallway.
It must be Eric, she thought. He was getting a blanket out of the closet and trying not to wake her. What was taking him so long? She rolled over, waiting for him to come in and warm her up, his legs wrapped around hers the way he always did.
Another sound…where was he? She rolled on her back and reached across the table. As the bedroom door opened, she flicked on the lamp. A lean man with cold eyes was standing under the threshold.
“Eric,” she screamed.
“Shut up,” the intruder said, raising a gun.
Meg heard no answer from Eric, and horror washed over her as she realized what that meant. The intruder had killed him. Eric wouldn’t leave her alone like this. He would protect her with his life…if he could.
“Turn over.”
“No.”
The man stepped toward her. “I said turn over.”
A deafening blast thundered through the room. Meg screamed as the window shattered. A red spot appeared on the intruder's neck, and he fired a shot out the broken window as he staggered backwards.
A second and a third shot exploded from just outside. The first shot took the intruder in the chest, and the second, in the forehead. He dropped to the ground, and only his fingers moved. They flinched spasmodically. Meg saw blood splatter on the wall. She screamed again.
A quiet voice came from outside the window: “Turn off the light.”
It was Eric. He hadn’t left her alone. He had just saved her life. He was the most wonderful man in the world. Fear froze her heart. Was he alright?
Meg glanced at the light switch, but the dead man was in the way. Her legs would not move.
“Turn off the ... Come out here.”
Meg’s upper body shook. The scene before her was ugly, but it was evidence of her survival. She would see the sun tomorrow. Meg wasn't about to step over the intruder’s body in case he wasn't really dead, so she grabbed the alarm clock and threw it at the ceiling light, shattering the glass cover and the bulb, all of which rained down on the man.
Eric spoke to her from outside. “Hurry.”
Meg climbed out of the window brushing her arm on the broken glass. She heard the jagged shards spill to the floor. In the moonlight, she saw Eric on the ground.
Outside, she ran to him. “Are you hurt?” But one look at where blood was pumping out of his chest told her that his heart was punctured. She bunched Eric’s shirt around his wound and tried to stop the blood flow. She was going to pass out. She’d never seen so much blood. She couldn’t focus. Her head was spinning like a gyroscope.
“Listen to me.” Eric said as he tried to reach for her, but couldn't. “Get the box. Take the trail to Hagerman's place.”
“There’s so much blood.” She tried to sound calm, but was aware that her voice cracked.
“There’s more of them.” Eric’s fingers weakly took hold of her arm. “Oh Meg, I’m so sorry. There’s another sniper, and he’s going to come after you. You can do it. I know you can. Take the box.”
“What are—?” She bunched up a handful of his shirt in her fist.
“Take the box with you. Get out of here now.” He tried to point, but his hand fell to the grass.
“I don’t care about it,” Meg said. “You’re going to die if I don’t stop this bleeding.”
“I'm not who you think I am, Meg. I'm sorry.”
“Eric, you can’t leave me,” she said.
“Have Hagerman take you to Lomax. He will help you.” Eric smiled. “I love you.” His head turned limply to the side. His eyes remained open, but he was no longer moving.
She checked his pulse and there was none.
Meg used her arm to cover her face. Her husband whom she loved more than anyone in the world was dead. She was alone. She ran for the trees to hide. Once under the trees, she turned and looked back at Eric. “I love you.”
He looked small laying there on the ground. But he was not small in her heart. It was he who helped her overcome her distrust of humanity. Only he could have made her believe that a man could be trusted. Her grief was overwhelming. Her eyes fell on the wooden box that was on the ground less than five feet from him. He had said to take it. Meg's heart was shaking in her ribcage. She turned away from the box and started down the trail, moving slowly in the pitch dark.
You have to go back there. He wanted you to have it.
Meg turned around and slowly went toward the house. Fear gave wings to her legs, and she found herself back in the woods, not even remembering grabbing the box. But she had it, and she carried it up the trail toward Hagerman’s place.
CHAPTER 2
Meg slowed when she spotted a campfire near the house. Her lungs burned from running so long. She walked while she tried to catch her breath. A lone figure sat in a camp chair. A Jeep with its hood open was parked in the firelight, a tool box on the ground nearby. The interior of the home was lit up.
Thank God he’s here. Someone who can help me.
She got closer, walking slower as she approached the fire, her legs and arms trembling. Hagerman was sitting on a log by the flames with his back to her. She called to him, and he stood up and turned. Meg stopped and froze.
It wasn’t Hagerman. It was a muscular, bald man.
“You startled me,” he said. He looked curiously at Meg and then at the wood box she was carrying.
“Where’s Bill?” Meg said.
He smiled. “Ah hell, he’s gone out of town a few days. I’m his brother, and he wanted me to hang out and feed the animals. By the way, I’m Neil Hagerman.” He smiled at her, warmly. “I own a security company in Boise. I’ve got insomnia thanks to a few slackers who I keep having to fill in for on the night shift. Figured I’d put new spark plugs in my rig.” He glanced over at his Jeep.
Meg slumped to the ground with the box, sobbing. She took a deep breath. “Someone killed my husband. There were two, and the other’s coming after me now. A sniper.”
“A what?” His spooked expression matched the alarmed tone of voice.
“He’s not far back.”
Neil stared at her with his lips pressed together so tightly they paled. “Oh shit, let’s get the hell out of here.”
Meg didn’t move at first, as if she were an elk who came upon a hunting party.
Neil took her by the arm and rushed her to his Jeep. “Get in.” He closed the hood and climbed into the driver’s seat. The big motor grumbled.
The vibrations from the car only made Meg’s trembling legs shake more. Exhaust fumes wafted through the open window and added to the dizziness that was overtaking her. She wanted to cry and throw herself out of the car in defeat. How could she live without Eric?
She clung to the wood box. She didn’t know what was in it or even how to open the stupid thing. But he wanted her to have it. He wanted her to go on.
“Hurry,” she said.
“You don’t have to worry about that.” Neil shoved the gear shift forward and popped the clutch, killing the engine. “Damn.”
“Come on, come on.” Meg said.
“I’m trying, lady.” The second try, Neil got the Jeep going. He raced it down the long driveway toward the dirt road.
CHAPTER 3
They drove through the forest for forty minutes. Tree trunks, illuminated by the headlights, whipped past endlessly like an impenetrable fence shutting out those who would enter. The rumbling sound of the Jeep’s tires along the dirt road offered comfort. The tremble in her legs slowed. She tried to block out the words she didn’t want to hear.
I’m not who you think I am.
Then who the hell had she been sleeping with for ten y
ears? She couldn’t get Eric’s pained face out of her mind.
Eric must have been in shock from the gunshot wounds. He didn’t mean what he said.
She clung tenaciously to the wooden box. She ran her fingers over the combination lock, feeling the dials. Part of her hoped there might be something inside that would give her comfort, and part of her feared opening it.
Meg was drowsy. Her eyes opened and closed as they passed occasional cabins along the winding road. Idaho City was a small mountain town with only a two lane highway running through it. The rest of the roads were dirt.
Neil pulled behind a gas station and parked in the shadows by the propane tank. “Give me a couple of minutes.” He shut off the headlights and got out. He dialed a number on an old pay phone attached to the gas station wall. A relic from another time.
Meg got out. “Who are you calling?”
“My cousin. He lives nearby. Get back in the car. I’ll be just a minute.”
“What are you calling him for?”
Neil walked over to her and said very quietly, “He owns a bed and breakfast on the other side of town. We can go there.”
“No,” Meg said. “I want to call the police.”
“We will but first we need to make sure we’re not being followed.”
“No, I want to go to Boise. I want to go home.”
Neil put his hand on her shoulder. “They know you went to my brother’s place. They also know—probably—that we’re driving toward Boise, and there’s only one road. We at least need to change cars.”
“No, I want to call the police and go home now.”
Neil looked around. He looked at her sternly. “I’m sorry for what you’re going through, but I’m not getting myself killed, too.”
Meg shook her head and squeezed her forehead.
“I’m calling my cousin.”
A mile or two beyond Idaho City, Neil turned up a private road that went right up into the forest—exactly where Meg didn’t want to go, but she didn’t say anything. Maybe he was right. Maybe they should borrow his cousin’s car, so they wouldn’t be spotted. She was thankful to Neil for helping her.
They came to a small cabin with a bigger residence up the hill. The outdoor lights lit up a clearing in the woods.
