by Scott Blade
Millie had let go of the garrote and Romey fell forward.
I caught her. She fell into my arms.
I watched Millie’s dead body stay standing for a moment and then she tumbled backward into the swimming pool. Her body splashed and bubbled and sank back into the darkness.
I pulled piano wire off Romey’s neck and flung the garrote into the pool.
I looked deep into Romey’s eyes. She started to pant.
I picked her up, held her in my arms. I said, “Breathe slow. Take your time.”
She breathed in and breathed out. Her eyes rolled back down and she breathed the air like it was a drug that she couldn’t get enough of.
I looked at her neck. There was no blood, but the skin was black and scarred from the wire.
I looked deep into her eyes. She was staring back at me. She tried to speak, but couldn’t.
Tears were rolling out of her eyes, which was from either the pain or the fear of dying or both.
I smiled at her and said, “Dominique is a funny name for an Irish girl.”
She laughed, only it was muted and she started coughing violently.
I said, “Okay. Okay. Take it easy.”
She grabbed my forearms, tight. Her fingers dug into them. She pulled herself up and hugged me.
CHAPTER 59
I RODE WITH ROMEY to the hospital back on base. Only the staff there suggested that she be moved to Bridgepoint Marine Base, which was hundreds of miles to the south. They had a bigger facility there and were far better equipped to handle her.
She was choppered out minutes later.
She needed x-rays and blood work. The emergency room doctor here at Arrow’s Peak had said that he believed she had deep internal lacerations and needed proper care.
Kelly had taken us back to Arrow’s Peak. He had the sirens blaring and the light bar flashing all the way back. He pushed through the media fast and barely stopped at the gate.
I was in a hospital bed, which I hadn’t needed, but Kelly had insisted I get checked out.
The doctors and nurses were shocked when they saw me. One, because I was covered in blood and internal body matter. And two because none of it was mine.
The doctor had told me I seemed completely fine. He had made a sarcastic remark that I had forgotten. It was something along the lines of I was fine on the outside, but my mental facilities were a completely different matter. Which was probably a slight at what I had done.
I was too tired to comment back.
I sat upright in the bed. I was no longer in clothes. Nor was I covered in blood or anything else anymore. They had insisted that I take a shower before anything else.
Then they forced me to wear one of those hospital gowns.
I sat in the bed because, even though I was exhausted and the bed was very comfortable, better than a bus station bench, I just didn’t want to stay in the hospital.
Kelly walked in.
“How ya doing, Widow?”
I looked at him and said, “Tired.”
“You should sleep.”
I stayed quiet.
He paced for a moment. He had his cap in his hand. He walked to the wall opposite the bed, just in front of a chair and leaned against the wall.
I said, “Sit down.”
He started to object, but then he sat down. He said, “I owe you an apology.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“No. You saved Dom’s life. And I owe you for that.”
I stayed quiet. He said, “I wanted to go with her, but this whole mess.”
I nodded and said, “Somebody’s gotta clean up. It’s a hard job. I’ve been there.”
“I know. I’m sorry I doubted you.”
He looked at the floor and then back up at me. He said, “I just don’t know where to start. We blamed Captain Turik. The White House went on TV and told the public about this. They named him.”
“You can walk that back. People make mistakes.”
“I guess, but will anyone listen?”
I shrugged.
“All these dead people. It’s all bad. No one wins.”
“We did. Justice did.”
He nodded and said, “Is there anything I can do for you?”
I said, “Malory?”
“We’ll take care of that. No one will blame you.”
“There’s a British secret service agent stuck on the roof at Harriton.”
“We got him. Anything else? You name it.”
I said, “You can call Maya Harris. Tell her that her brother died a patriot. Tell her he was a good Marine.”
“I’ll do it tonight.”
“Good.”
“Anything else?”
I shook my head. I asked, “How hard would it be for me to see Romey in Bridgepoint?”
“You can ride with me in the morning.”
“You going to be able to make it away from all this to drive there?”
He said, “Oh, yeah. They’re sending someone to replace me.”
“You want to be replaced on this? I’d think it’s good for your career. You and she will both get promoted. You could get your own command.”
“Nah, I’d rather be by her side.”
Then I saw in his eyes what I had been too blind to see. He loved her. They weren’t just partners in the Corps. They were partners in life. They were together. That’s why Romey had pushed him away from this whole thing. She wasn’t worried about him not believing us; she was protecting him in case I was lying.
I smiled and said, “You can come back for me. I need to sleep.”
He said, “You got it. I’ll wake you up. It’ll be a while. Probably dawn. And don’t worry. You can give a statement and everything tomorrow. No rush.”
He got up from the chair and started to walk away.
I said, “Kelly.”
He turned back.
I said, “You’re a good guy. Romey’s a lucky woman.”
He smiled and said, “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
Then he paused a beat and said, “You must’ve been a great cop. You should take it up again.”
He left and switched off the light.
CHAPTER 60
STICKING AROUND ISN’T MY THING.
Something else that I didn’t like doing was getting stuck in one place. And giving statements, answering questions for a case like this would only lead to more questions and more sticking around and more being stuck in one place.
I waited an hour after Kelly left and I got up and left my room. At first, it was cold without any clothes and only a skimpy hospital gown on. But it only took about ten minutes of searching the halls of the hospital to find a room with the sounds of a snoring patient in it.
I slipped into the darkness on tiptoes, even though I hadn’t needed to. This guy was fast asleep.
Some could’ve probably accused me of committing all kinds of crimes tonight. The lowest on that totem pole would’ve been stealing clothes. But I needed to wear something out. I wouldn’t get far on a base full of Marines on high alert while in my birthday suit.
I found some wadded-up clothes on a chair and put them on. It wasn’t a tailored look, but the pants fit. The waist was too big, but the guy had a belt. I tightened it all the way and the pants stayed on. The shirt and coat were a different story. The shirt was a long-sleeved thing, but the sleeves only covered the tops of my forearms and the coat was more than snug.
I managed to get it all on and I think I was actually stuck in the coat. I would have to rip it apart to get it off later.
I lucked out on the shoes because this guy only had slippers, but they fit—mostly.
I walked out of his room and down the hall to the fire stairwell. I got out of the building without a fuss. And the base was still under lockdown, so walking around outside was easy enough.
I stopped at a building that had a double glass door and stared at my reflection. That’s when I realized the guy I stole the clothes from wasn’t a guy. They were f
emale clothes. Pink shirt and yellow coat. The jeans were also a woman’s—a large woman’s.
I smiled.
I couldn’t leave through the gate. So, I walked down the main street. I stopped at the same flagpole I had seen earlier.
I saluted it.
Then I headed farther down and to the fence. Luckily, Arrow’s Peak was an old installation. The fence was nothing special. I scaled it without much effort, without anyone seeing me.
I walked up to the end of the crowd of media and merged in with them.
An hour later, I was sitting next to a nice enough trucker. I was in his eighteen-wheeler, headed north. He didn’t ask about the clothes. I guessed that he’d seen weirder.
I stared out the window at the snowy treetops and the mountains.
I wanted to sleep, but he wanted to talk.
The Author
Scott Blade has written five bestselling books, two of which reached the top 100 on Amazon.
He isn't a traditional bestselling author. Although, he's been nominated for numerous awards and accolades in fiction, collecting trophies isn't he's thing.
The dealio about Scott Blade is that he is a real life drifter, who writes books, and hitchhikes or uses public transport from place to place. What started as a experiment inspired by Jack Reacher, wanderlust, and others things, became a real-life habit. And now he writes a bestselling book series based on the drifter hero, Jack Widow.
Scott takes characters, places, and plot elements from the towns, seashores, lonely roads, and busy cities across the globe. He travels the planet, sometimes with his deaf Siberian Husky, carrying a MacBook and the bare essentials, going from place to place, and solving mysteries. Not real mysteries, only the ones in his head.
Growing up in a place like Mississippi, Scott always had the itch to explore the world beyond the pine trees and dark waters of the Gulf of Mexico.
Currently, Scott travels North America and is working on his next Jack Widow book.
If you liked this book, then please leave a review, go to his website, and sign up to receive previews, communications, and receive free content, which sometimes includes exclusive Jack Widow stories.
Check out other books in the Jack Widow series. www.scottblade.com, facebook.com/iamscottblade, twitter.com/iamscottblade or email at [email protected].
