Fatal Encounter (A Counterstrike Novel Book 1)

by Jannine Gallant

  “The detective will be looking for payments or any other connection to a contract killer. Good. I hope to God he finds something soon.”

  “I do, too. I didn’t see any advantage to telling him about those boys from the summer camp thirty plus years ago, or mentioning you’d seen the killer. He’d only want to bring you in for questioning, and what useful purpose would that serve?”

  “Thank you, Eli. Honestly, I wouldn’t feel safe walking into the sheriff’s office. It would be far too easy to pick me off from any number of advantage points when I came out, and we have to assume word would spread quickly to the wrong ears that a witness had been located.”

  “I told myself I wasn’t hindering his investigation, but I still felt like a criminal. I think he knew I was holding back.”

  “He probably believes you’re reluctant to turn on a member of your own family.”

  Eli snorted. “I’d roll on any one of them in a heartbeat if I was certain he’d been responsible for Maureen’s death. Or she. I guess the guilty party could be one of my aunts.”

  “I’ve encountered a few women who make Hannibal Lecter look like a sweetheart.”

  He stared at her for a long moment before rising to his feet. “I’m not sure I even want to know what you used to do before the dog walking gig. I’ll go start dinner.”

  She followed him into the kitchen a couple of minutes later. Though she moved a little stiffly, her color was better as she bent to pet Watson, who was staring up at him, undoubtedly hoping for a handout.

  “What can I do?”

  Eli turned away from the sink holding two freshly-scrubbed potatoes. “Go sit down and take it easy. I plan to throw a couple of chicken breasts on the grill and make a salad. I stopped at the store on my way home from the sheriff’s office and bought enough food to last a few days.”

  “I feel like a leech. I haven’t done anything useful to help out around here, not to mention you’re paying to feed me.”

  “The fifty bucks I spent on groceries isn’t going to break me.” When her eyes darkened in what he felt sure was an imminent protest, he walked over and put his hands on her shoulders to kneed her tight muscles. “It’s not a big deal, but if you insist, you can feed the mutt. He hasn’t stopped staring at me since I walked into the kitchen. Then go light the grill. It’s on the small deck through the French doors off the dining room.”

  She rose on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek before heading toward the mudroom. Watson scrambled to his feet and trotted out behind her.

  Eli put the potatoes in the oven to bake before pulling out an assortment of fresh veggies and a bag of lettuce. A minute later, Jaimee walked back through the kitchen—minus the dog—on her way to the deck. He glanced up from slicing tomatoes to appreciate the gentle sway of her hips in a pair of tight jeans. After dicing a carrot to throw in the salad bowl, he laid down the knife, wondering why she hadn’t come back inside. Striding through the dining room, he stopped at the glass doors.

  Jaimee stood at the edge of the deck with her hands braced on the railing, staring out over the forest. Rays from the setting sun highlighted the shimmering waves of her red hair where it hung loose past her shoulders. His fingers itched to feel its softness.

  Pushing open the door, he approached quietly and slid an arm around her waist. She jerked sideways, and one hand shot out before she pulled it back and relaxed against him.

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on people. I almost decked you.”

  “Are you always this tightly wound?”

  “Probably. I’m suspicious and defensive by nature . . . or maybe by circumstance. They aren’t easy habits to break.”

  “I’ll announce my intentions before touching you from now on since I don’t feel like getting punched.”

  She rested her head against his shoulder. “You make me smile. Thank you for that.”

  “I’m happy to add a little levity to your day. You have enough worries without me compounding them.” He stroked one hand through her hair, wrapping silky strands around his fingers. “I came out to make sure you were okay. You looked so damn gorgeous standing here, I couldn’t resist touching you.”

  “I’m fine. Those pills are working.”

  When she glanced up, he bent to kiss her but didn’t linger. She’d said she needed time and space, and he intended to give her both. “Good. I’d better put the chicken on to cook. That grill must be hot by now.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Her voice held a hint of breathless rasp.

  The woman wasn’t immune to him, whether she wanted to be or not. The knowledge lightened his step as he went back inside to finish preparing their meal.

  A couple of hours later, he sprawled on the couch next to Jaimee, his attention on the car chase through the narrow streets of Paris playing out on the big screen TV. The analytical part of his brain noted the sound the tires made sliding on wet cobblestones, which he could use in his current work in progress, while the rest of his body appreciated the soft bare feet resting in his lap. When the chase ended in a fiery explosion as the Renault hit a barricade, his focus shifted fully to Jaimee. She stared straight ahead at the TV, but he had a feeling she wasn’t seeing the burned-out shell of the car or hearing the distinctly European wail of sirens as the Police National converged on the scene.

  He lowered the volume and rubbed the arch of her foot with his thumb. “What’re you thinking about?”

  “Huh?” She turned her head slightly, and the faraway look in her eyes cleared.

  “My guess is you don’t have a clue what’s going on in the movie.”

  Her lips quirked in a grimace. “Maybe not. I can’t stop wondering what sort of creep steals the identities of kids he knew. Those boys who died where probably his friends.”

  “Maybe witnessing that tragedy twisted something inside him, hardened him, and made taking a life acceptable in his mind. I personally don’t understand how anyone can rationalize killing. I have a hard time smashing a spider.”

  She slowly pulled her feet off his lap and tucked them beneath her. “You didn’t seem to have a problem eating that chicken for dinner.”

  “No, but I also didn’t wring its neck.”

  “Some people are willing to do what needs to be done—even if the job makes others squeamish.”

  “I hope you’re talking about killing spiders and chickens, not shooting innocent, elderly women.”

  “Of course not, but the world isn’t always black and white. Sometimes it’s the shades of gray that keep you safe.”

  “I guess. Speaking of doing what needs to be done . . .” He shut off the TV and turned to face her. “Since it doesn’t seem like the cops will be making an arrest anytime soon, your suggestion that we draw out the killer seems like our only option if we want to end this.”

  She sat up a little straighter. “Really? I’m glad you feel that way because I—”

  “However,” he continued, raising his voice, “we won’t be serving you up as the sacrificial lamb. Let him come after me, instead.”

  “Why would you even suggest that?” Her feet hit the floor with a thump next to Watson, who let out a soft woof. “You aren’t the one he wants, and you don’t have any experience—”

  “Hear me out. The memorial is on Sunday. I’ll tell one of my relatives I just received an anonymous email that an assassin was hired to kill Maureen. I’ll mention I have specific details that will lead to an arrest, but I didn’t have time to take the information to the police before the service.”

  “If you don’t tell the right person, how—”

  “I write thrillers. Give me some credit for my plotting skills. I’ll make sure at least two of the others overhear the confession. Whoever isn’t guilty will spread the news faster than a damn virus. I guarantee the whole family will know about it before I walk out of there.”

  “What do you hope to accomplish?”

  “Whoever hired the hitman is going to panic and will definitely contact him. My guess is the kil
ler will try to eliminate me before I can turn over this supposed information to the police. All we have to do is make sure the attempt happens in a spot where we have the upper hand.”

  “Such as?” Her voice rang with skepticism.

  “Someplace isolated where an innocent bystander won’t get hurt. You can pepper him with buckshot when he comes after me, and then we’ll turn him over to the police. I’m sure they’ll find incriminating evidence that ties this asshole to whoever hired him.”

  “Wow. No wonder you sell millions of books. Your imagination is amazing.”

  From her tone, he was pretty certain she hadn’t meant her statement as a compliment. His defenses rose. “What’s wrong with my plan?”

  “There’s no control. No backup. You would need a team to keep you safe, not just me.”

  “That’s why I said we’d have to choose a place where we would have the advantage.”

  She stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “And what’s to stop this guy from taking you out while you’re driving away from the estate. Hell, he could pick you off from across the creek the second you step out into the backyard. All it’s going to take is a quick phone call to get him there since we know he’s still in the area.”

  “Developing a complex strategy like that seems pretty unlikely on such short notice.”

  “Believe me, he’ll be highly motivated to stop you. A few risks wouldn’t be a deterrent.”

  “Like the ones you plan to take to lure him out? I don’t see how my scenario is any different. Except I’d be the one in danger instead of you. That’s the part that’s getting to you, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t want you to get killed, and I’m afraid that’s exactly what might happen.”

  “Now you know how I feel.”

  Only Watson’s low moan as he rolled over in his sleep disturbed the silence that followed. When her phone chimed, she tore her gaze away from his and picked it up.

  “Luna says they’re headed back to the states now. She’ll do what she can to track down the killer as soon as she gets a couple hours of sleep.” Jaimee was already typing before she finished speaking. “I’ll update her on what we learned about the summer camp catastrophe. Maybe she can tie the Canadian to one of your relatives.”

  Eli rose to his feet. “We have another day before the memorial. If Luna provides us with new intel, I suppose that could change things.”

  “Definitely.” Jaimee stopped typing and looked up. “Going somewhere?”

  “To bed. You can come with me or not. Your call.”

  She set down her phone and stared at him. “Wow, way to sweet-talk a woman. Does that line usually work for you?”

  A hint of amusement lifted his dark mood a fraction. “You’ll do what you want, anyway. Trying to sway your opinion seems like a waste of time.”

  “Are you angry with me?”

  “I guess I am. Do you blame me?”

  She stood up and stepped over Watson. Her eyes flashed as she stopped nearly toe to toe with him. “Why, because I care about you and don’t want to see you stretched out on a slab? Been there and done that. I’m not interested in repeating the experience.”

  “The fact that you have zero faith in my ability to take care of myself grates on my nerves. What am I in your mind, a helpless little girl who needs saving?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a long breath before opening them again. “Is your masculinity threatened by a competent woman? You feel you should be the hero in this scenario since you’re the man?”

  Damn right! Instead of shouting the first thought that came into his head, he gave himself a moment to cool off. “Am I wrong about your perception?”

  “Completely and spectacularly mistaken. Oh my God, Eli! This isn’t about whether or not you’re a bad-ass, tough guy. It’s about assessing a situation and determining the odds of success. If worse came to worse, we could possibly finetune your plan, but I still don’t like our chances. There are simply too many variables we can’t control.”

  The anger drained out of him, leaving him feeling a little ridiculous. “Oh. I assumed . . . Never mind. Are you coming up to bed?”

  “In a minute. I need to take Watson out first.”

  “I’ll take him outside. You can go on up.”

  She didn’t have the energy to argue. “Okay. Thanks.”

  A short while later, he stood in the middle of the yard, waiting for the dog to pee, wondering why Jaimee made him so damn defensive. Maybe because most women fawned all over him when he had something to say. Jaimee didn’t fawn. She argued.

  “Hurry up, Watson. I don’t have all night.”

  The dog ignored him and stopped to sniff a flowering bush.

  Or maybe he did have all night. He was pretty sure Jaimee intended to sleep in the guest room, not his, and he only had himself to blame for blowing up at her. If he were smart, he’d simply admit they had compatibility issues and back away. Except underneath her self-sufficiency and prickly manner, Jaimee needed someone who was willing to stick by her. He wouldn’t mind being that someone.

  Finally, the dog lifted his leg on an azalea and then trotted across the yard to his side.

  “About damn time.”

  After following Watson inside, he turned off the exterior light and locked up. Feeling his way in the dark, he climbed the stairs to his bedroom and paused in the doorway. The blinds were up, and moonlight shone through the window, illuminating the figure curled on her side in his bed. His heart skipped a beat as he crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the mattress.

  “I wasn’t sure if I’d find you here.”

  She turned over and reached for his hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Knocking your ideas. I could have been a little more sensitive about it.”

  He laughed softly. “You should see some of the edits I get back with pages of reasons why my plot sucks. I can take a little criticism.”

  Her fingers tightened around his. “I wouldn’t have been so harsh if I didn’t care.”

  He bent down to kiss her and was immediately enveloped in warmth. He wanted to hold this woman close and never let her go. “I’m glad.”

  “Then come join me,” she whispered against his ear.

  He pulled back slightly and smiled down at her. “I can’t imagine anything I’d rather do.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Vanna sat on the only chair in the motel room while the man she’d hired to take care of her problems leaned against the desk with his arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t overly large, yet his presence in such tight quarters raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck. The fact that she was a little afraid of him only served to increase her anger.

  “You’re sure the dog walker’s not staying at her neighbor’s house? Maybe she was hiding in a closet while you questioned the kid.”

  “I’ve been watching the place pretty closely. She’s definitely not there.”

  “Then where the hell is she? After you let her get away at Sugarland, she had to go someplace she’d feel safe, especially if she has a bullet wound. I doubt she’s living in the woods.”

  “If I knew where she was, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.” Each word held a bite of annoyance. “She couldn’t have gotten far on foot, not at any speed since she’s injured. I still think someone must have picked her up. I thoroughly searched the campground, and she wasn’t hiding there.”

  “Let me see the video feed. Maybe you missed something.”

  His lips tightened, but he opened the laptop on the desk and clicked a few buttons. Vanna faced the screen as he fast-forwarded to an image of Jaimee Fleming sprinting out from behind a tour bus toward the road.

  “Is that the only footage where you can see her?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. She asked a waitress in the café where the bathroom was and must have left the building through the side door. The camera didn’t catch her running to hide behind that bus, and the seco
nd bus blocked any view of the campground entrance across the street.”

  She pointed at the screen where the video was still playing. “Is that the neighbor’s truck?”

  “Yes. I couldn’t see the plate, but when I enlarged the image, I recognized the Patriots decal stuck to the rear window from my reconnaissance missions in her neighborhood. The pickup definitely belongs to the Jeffries.”

  She touched the screen. “There! That SUV pulling a trailer must have turned into the campground. Maybe—”

  “I checked it out. An older couple with a Chihuahua. No sign of the woman we’re after.”

  Vanna didn’t take her eyes off the feed. “Wait, can you go back? It looks like that blue car turned around and left.”

  “A BMW. I couldn’t make out the plate or the occupant. The driver must have used the campground entrance to make a U-turn.”

  “And it didn’t occur to you it might be someone picking up Fleming? Your incompetence—” She broke off and swallowed. Despite the heat in the room, the cold look in his eyes sent a shiver through her.

  “When the neighbor didn’t pan out, of course I considered it. I had our pal in the FBI run a check for blue BMWs registered in this area. Nothing jumped out as suspicious, but I’m still running down those leads.”

  “That jerk is no friend of mine.” An image of her ex-lover flashed through her mind. Younger than her by ten years, handsome, well-dressed, powerful. Too bad he’d only been using her. The memories faded as Vanna frowned at the frozen computer screen. “That car looks familiar.”

  “Have you seen it around town? No one in Hawthorne owns a BMW fitting that description.”

  “My nephew drives a blue Beemer.”

  “The author?”

  She nodded. “I can’t imagine why Eli would have anything to do with a dog walker. To my knowledge, they aren’t acquainted, but I’m hardly privy to his social life. His cabin isn’t very far from Sugarland. It’s possible he forgot something and turned around to go back and get it. I’m not one hundred percent sure it’s even his car.”