by Amy Vansant
“Good point.”
“For now we have the upper hand. If she doesn’t think we know, she thinks she’s safe.”
“It’s the smart play.” Snookie chewed on her lip, thinking. “And you think she’d be dumb enough to go back to Charity? Isn’t that the last place she’d go?”
“It doesn’t seem like the smartest move, but on the other hand, her daughter set up shop as a lawyer there, and the people who caught her live there, so...I could see where it might be difficult for her to not clean up some of her own loose ends.”
“Gotcha.”
“You’re probably safe. But, her daughter called the prison to ask if her mother was still in jail. The warden intercepted the call.”
“Hm. Sounds like she knows something.”
“It does. But that doesn’t mean Jamie’s there. She probably called her.”
“But you want me to take a look-see.”
“If you would. We’ve got feelers out trying to get a more solid lead without alerting her we’re on to the swap, but she doesn’t know you. You can slide into Charity without vibrating antennae.”
Snookie rubbed her arm. “Feelers, antennae...that whole sentence makes me feel like I have bugs on me.”
“Do you mind doing me this favor?” Macha placed a hand on a folder and slid it toward her.
“Is that all the info?”
Macha slumped. “No. That’s my taxes.” She opened her drawer and pulled out a thumb drive. “All the info you need is on here. I just miss sliding folders at agents.”
“We are so old.” Snookie stood, took the drive and dropped it into the pocket of her jacket. Retrieving her gun, she secured it back into her holster. She turned to leave and then turned back.
“Do we have to hug again?”
Macha shook her head. “Nah.”
“Good. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
Snookie took two steps toward the door before Macha called to her.
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
She stopped. “What would make you think I’d do anything stupid?”
“The fact that you should have been Special Agent ten years ago, but you couldn’t go a year without some insubordination added to your permanent record.”
Snookie grinned.
“Oh. Right. That.”
Chapter Sixteen
Jamie stared across the street at the pawn shop, but she’d ceased to see it. The moment she spotted Declan walk inside, her mind had wandered to the many ways she wanted to kill him and his new girlfriend.
Mostly him. He’d broken her daughter’s heart. For some reason Stephanie didn’t want to leave him behind, so it was up to her being her mother to help.
Plus, the girlfriend had to go for sending her to prison and stealing Stephanie’s man.
Duh.
Jamie closed her eyes and stretched her neck from side to side. Her murderous feelings toward Declan felt muddled. Usually, her focus remained laser sharp. No empathy, no sympathy, just the giddy thrill of planning the kill.
But this time something else stirred. A quick check assured her it wasn’t sympathy for Declan. Maybe disappointment? She wouldn’t even get to plan his death. She’d promised Stephanie she wouldn’t kill him, so, thanks to a loophole she hadn’t pointed out to her daughter, the lawyer, she had to have someone else do it for her.
That really took all the fun out of it.
She wanted to kill Declan for Stephanie herself.
Jamie opened her eyes.
Is this what it feels like to be a mother? Wanting to kill anyone who hurt your child?
She pondered a moment and then chuckled to herself.
No.
If Declan’s death didn’t inspire Stephanie to become her protégé, she had every intention of killing her daughter.
They don’t hand out mother-of-the-year awards for filicide.
Stephanie was a loose end waving in the breeze for everyone to see—a way to track her. It had been fun, watching bits of herself develop and grow in the girl, but now would be a bad time to get soft.
Now, Stephanie had two options: join her or die.
No, now that she had a moment to think about it, her urge to kill Declan didn’t feel like love for Stephanie. It felt like anger. Someone had gotten over on a part of her.
It was embarrassing.
She wanted to remove him from the planet before someone saw how weak her child could be.
Jamie’s head bobbed up and down certain she’d traced the emotional oddity to its roots.
Whew.
She glanced across the street in time to catch Declan back outside, standing at his door, closing up his shop. She’d follow him a little longer and tip her killers. She imagined he and Charlotte would be together for the storm, so—
Is he looking at me?
Jamie tucked back her chin, slinking into the shadows of her car. Declan stared in her direction. He looked at his phone and then looked up again, directly at her, back and forth, twice.
Is someone telling him I’m here?
Jamie’s lip curled.
Stephanie.
Is she watching me watching him?
The girl did have skills. Jamie searched her memory. Did she even look to see if Stephanie had followed her from her office?
I don’t know.
Cursing her foolishness, Jamie shifted her car into reverse and pulled from her parking spot. He couldn’t see her in the car from across the street. Maybe the Taurus caught his attention for some other reason. If she moved the car and his attention stayed locked on her, she’d know.
She could sit tight. Dare him to come over. But she didn’t want contact with Declan before she was ready. She might accidentally kill him. Even if she didn’t, he might mention her to Stephanie, and she’d lose any chance of winning her daughter’s loyalty.
Jamie rolled through the parking lot towards the exit.
Declan sprinted toward his silver Jeep Cherokee.
Dammit.
She hit the gas, pulling in front of another vehicle on her way to the exit.
She didn’t get far. Ten feet later she braked, oncoming traffic delaying her escape from the parking lot. Straining forward for a better view, she saw a string of cars approaching.
Crap.
Maybe Declan staring in her direction was a coincidence.
Jamie stretched to see over traffic, scanning Declan’s lot until she spotted the silver Jeep wheeling toward the exit.
Not good. I have to get out ahead of him.
Jamie pulled into traffic, holding her breath, expecting to be hit. The world outside exploded with the sounds of wailing horns and screeching tires, but nothing bumped her stupid rental.
Whew.
She blasted toward the intersection, glancing in the rearview to see the Jeep enter traffic and follow.
All signs pointed to a pursuit.
Damn.
The traffic light turned yellow and she stomped on the gas, whipping around the slowing car in front of her to blast through.
Ha!
The rearview didn’t want to party with her. In it, she saw the Jeep speed through the intersection behind her. Someone, no doubt a car in crossing traffic, hit their horn. The Jeep made it through. Someone pulled out of another parking lot in front of him and he had to slow, but Jamie had no doubts now.
He’s chasing me.
She drove faster, a ripple of what felt like nerves running through her body. Fast driving wasn’t her thing. There were too many variables, other drivers she couldn’t control. She was more of a planner.
She was a killer, not a getaway driver.
She did practice her driving skills occasionally. In her business, the possibility of ending up in a car chase hovered around every corner. She’d once rented the movie Baby Driver for ideas, but she’d stopped paying attention halfway through.
I should have finished that damn movie.
With Declan after her, she found her mind blank. She couldn’t i
magine how this ended. How do car chases end? You can’t catch a car with a car. You have to run them off the road or hope the police joins the chase, sets up roadblocks...
Hm.
Roadblocks never end well for criminals. If the police caught wind of the chase, Declan might get a ticket. She’d be the one on her way back to prison.
She needed to find a way to option B.
Escape.
How do drivers escape?
Okay, let’s think about that.
First, she had to keep the police from noticing. Step one, get away from other drivers, all of whom ride armed with phones, all a few digits away from the police.
A truck loaded with potted trees pulled out in front of Jamie and she hit her brakes, losing precious seconds. Declan closed in. She pulled around the landscaping truck and hit the gas to blow through another intersection, but the light had been green and remained so for Declan.
She headed east, farther into the heart of Florida where she hoped the traffic would ease.
Lose the people. Lose the variables.
She looked at her gas gauge. She’d put off filling up.
Stupid.
She’d run out of gas before Declan did and then he’d have her. She couldn’t outrun him. She didn’t have a gun with her.
Still, maybe murder could be her move? Stop somewhere remote and let him approach. She had something he didn’t.
She was willing to kill.
Was he? Probably not. Not until it was too late. If what her daughter said was true, he was too nice to kill her in cold blood.
Idiot.
A glaring problem with her murder plan flashed forward like a supernova.
Declan probably did have a gun.
Didn’t every male in Florida have a gun?
Especially a man who’d run operations in South America with her daughter?
She slapped the steering wheel, furious.
Her lack of preparedness meant she’d have to do something desperate.
But what?
She spotted a roadside farmers’ market that felt familiar.
Why do I know that place?
That’s it. She’d holed up in a house here once. A deep lake cabin with a wide pier...
An idea flashed through her mind.
No. I can’t do that.
She tried to ignore the idea, but it wouldn’t go away. It banged on the inside of her brain. It screamed.
“Fine!” She screamed back at it.
Jamie jerked the wheel right to head down a rural road to nowhere. In the rearview she saw the Jeep follow. She felt heat behind her cheeks, as if her hate for the pursuing man might shoot from her eyes like lasers to destroy him.
No such luck.
She pressed the pedal until the car hit ninety-five. She felt the vehicle shudder and thanked the powers that be that the off-brand rental outfit from which she’d stolen it hadn’t put a speed governor on the piece of crap she needed to survive.
She spotted a mailbox shaped like a manatee and knew she was close. Slowing, she whipped down a partially hidden dirt road, low vegetation whipping the sides of the car as she picked up speed again.
Declan followed.
Now she had no choice.
The dirt road split and she picked the left fork. It was the road less traveled of the two, but the only difference that made was more potholes. Her teeth might rattle out of her face before she got there.
Jamie headed for the cabin, praying it still existed. She passed several similar hovels dotting the road along the way—the cheaper rentals—the ones not lakeside. She saw the driveway approaching but didn’t want to turn there. She wanted access to the backyard, not the obvious entrance that ended at the garage.
She pulled the wheel to the right to head across a grass field flanking the property. The Taurus groaned as it lurched toward the backyard pier. A hubcap shot off to the right, spinning off on an adventure of its own, like a rat bailing a sinking ship.
It had no idea how clever it was.
Something clanked. She’d probably left her muffler behind.
The lake appeared, glistening in the sun.
Here goes nothing.
A hump between the field and the backyard of the cabin launched the car into the air. Just a foot, but it made Jamie suck in a breath as she lost all ability to steer or brake. She hit the pier fast. Too fast. She’d forgotten to think about the rental car’s limitations. Did it have an airbag? Would it work?
Window!
She’d almost forgotten to open the window.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She hit the button and nothing happened.
What?
Oh, back seat. Wrong button. Her fingers skittered forward to find the button for the front driver-side window.
It began to fall.
Too late.
She heard the drumming pattern of the pier planks as she drove across them, aiming for the water. The Jeep hit the field behind her as she launched, once again airborne.
This is so stupid.
The car hit the water nose first. The airbag exploded. She’d twisted to the side to avoid the brunt of the inflation from breaking her nose. Instead, her shoulder exploded with pain as it slammed the edge of the wheel. A second later the bag deflated and she felt water beneath her feet.
I’m not dead. Good start.
On television, cars sank much slower. The Ford dove like a weighted submarine, which was both good for her plan and terrifying. The car listed heavily to the driver’s side. She tried not to take it personally.
Liquid surrounded her, closing in. She turned her head to look into the murky depths. She couldn’t see far.
During her time in the cabin, the dopey neighbor next door had bragged about how deep the lake was, as if he’d dug the thing himself.
Turns out the moron was right.
Jamie took a few deep breaths.
Here goes nothing.
She pulled her legs out from under the wheel and took one more deep breath before scrambling through the open window. The window hadn’t fully opened before her finger bounced off the button. She felt her butt drag against the top of the opening.
I shouldn’t have had that waffle this morning.
She struggled to get her hips through. For one panicked moment she felt stuck, her head underwater, upside down, trapped.
Is this how I die?
Throwing her hands behind her she felt the edge of the roof and pushed to break free. Her hips slid through and she felt the car clip the back of her heels as it sank behind her.
She swam in what she hoped was the direction of the opposite bank for as long as she could and then turned for the surface. It took every ounce of restraint to keep from breaking the water like a breaching whale. Instead, she rolled and let only her lips break the surface water. Just enough to get a sip of air.
Then she dove again and swam as hard as she could toward the opposite bank, stopping to breathe once more before she felt the water shallow.
Reeds and mangroves riddled the lake’s opposite bank. She grabbed them to pull herself deep into their tangle, fighting to push images of alligators and snakes from her mind.
She plunged into the green, trying not to struggle, but rather to slip like a snake into cover.
Stop thinking about snakes.
The back of her head breaking the surface, she turned to gasp for breath. Hefting herself farther up the bank, she peered through the branches across the water.
The lake in front of the pier appeared peaceful, as if nothing had happened. Her car had disappeared. Declan’s Jeep sat on the grass.
Where was the boy? Was he already swimming towards her, lurking beneath the surface like the Loch Ness Idiot?
A commotion burst on the surface of the lake in front of the pier as Declan surfaced. He was diving, no doubt looking for her in the car.
He’s trying to save me? That’s so cute.
A few people appeared on the bank, jogging toward the
water, eager to see if the crazy lady who drove off the pier had drowned.
Jamie clawed her way up the mud and into the forest beyond.
Ugh.
She smelled like a sewer. Her clothes were ruined. Her shoes gone. She retched once, muddy water bubbling from her aching lungs.
Somewhere nearby, she heard the whoosh of a speeding car.
I have to find a way back to my hotel.
Tearing her expensive blouse into some semblance of a knotted, wet, half-shirt, she turned one last time to look across the lake at Declan, who was now climbing out of the water, the crowd moving in on him.
I am so going to kill you.
She fluffed her bedraggled hair and jogged toward the road to throw out a thumb. A car passed without stopping.
Asshole.
She adjusted her blouse to reveal most of her left breast and tried again. A pickup passed, then slowed.
Hello, sailor.
She jogged to the passenger side, stones stabbing the bottoms of her feet, and grinned broadly through the open passenger window.
“I had a little car trouble…If you could give me a lift into town?”
“Hop on in,” said a goateed man in a plaid shirt. His cap had a buck head on it. Another deer, this one jumping through a thicket, graced his right forearm in ink. She guessed him to be a few years younger than herself, probably late forties.
She climbed in. “Thank you.”
“Yer all wet,” he said, pulling back into traffic.
She glanced into the plastic pocket on the side of his door and spotted a knife in a leather scabbard. Crossing her legs to block his view of her right hand, she pulled the weapon free and slipped it from the sheath.
He leered at her, attempting some sort of wink.
She smiled.
Chapter Seventeen
After the FDLE arrived to investigate the situation at The Fairways, Frank dropped Charlotte off at her house. He honked as she walked toward her door and she jumped.
“Yeesh.”
Frank motioned to her to return, lowering the passenger window as she approached.
“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she asked, leaning in the window.
“I forgot to tell you not to get involved.”
“I have no idea what you mean, sir.”
