“Did King Cole drink on the job?” he asked.
“If I am him—yes,” Jameson replied.
He nodded.
Jameson removed her tool belt and directed him to follow her. She had made it her mission to focus on the project at hand. For Jameson, that was building the playhouse. It allowed her to fall into a groove with the man beside her. Now, as they approached their appointed destination, Jameson began to feel the gravity of the situation pressing in. This man wasn’t an extra hand or a comrade. He was a killer; a killer who was likely setting her in his crosshairs as they walked.
Claire watched as Jameson’s gait slowed slightly. “You’ve got this, JD. Keep going. Just get him in the barn.”
Alex listened as Claire mused aloud. It was evident that Claire and Jameson had spent time talking. Alex had noticed Jameson’s pace slow as well on the screen. She could only see Jameson’s back now, at least, until Jameson entered the barn. She suspected Claire could see Jameson’s expression as well. There would have been no safe way to give Jameson ears. They could hear and see her every move; Jameson was deaf and blind. She had to trust that Alex and Claire were prepared. “I wish she could hear us.”
Claire sighed. “She knows we’re here. Time for you to move closer, Toles.”
“I won’t have eyes,” Alex said.
“I’ll be your eyes,” Claire promised.
Alex looked at Jill Corrigan. She nodded. “Go,” she told Alex.
“It’s Claire’s call,” Alex said. She could almost hear the gasp of surprise of everyone listening. “She says when to move and where. Not before her direction.”
Corrigan nodded. “That’s you, Agent Brackett.”
Claire took a deep breath. Alex’s words meant one thing—she trusted Claire. “Understood,” Claire said. “On my call.”
***
Jameson opened the cooler that she had placed in the barn and handed her helper a beer.
“Thanks,” he said.
Jameson took a seat on a pile of wood. “You think my King Cole story is silly.”
He took a long pull from the beer in his hand and looked at the bottle. “No,” he said. “I’m a bit more like Simple Simon.”
Claire moved carefully toward the ladder she had pulled up to the upper level of the barn. She sprawled out flat, looking through a crack between boards at the figures below. “Stay steady, JD. He’s following those breadcrumbs we talked about.”
“Simple Simon the pie man?” Jameson chuckled before taking a sip from her beer.
He grinned. “Simple Simon wasn’t the pie man,” he told her. “He met the pie man going to the fair.”
Jameson nodded. “And, that’s you?”
“No. Later Simple Simon goes fishing,” he said.
“Yeah? I don’t remember this one? Does he catch anything?”
He smiled. “No. He wants to catch the whale. But, all the water he had got was in his mother’s pail.”
Jameson tried to understand his pun. “Doesn’t he prick his finger or something?”
“He does. You see, Simple Simon is innocent. He’s a curious boy.”
“So, you were curious as a kid?”
He lifted the beer bottle in his hand to his lips again and swallowed greedily. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and offered Jameson a sickening smile. “Curiosity is a funny thing,” he said. “Simon wants to try everything, but at every turn, someone like Old King Cole stops him.”
“This is it,” Claire said. “Be ready.” He’s telling you, JD. He’s telling you.
“Claire,” Alex’s voice called cautiously. “He’s cracking.”
“Trust me,” Claire said.
Alex took a deep breath. I do. It’s him I don’t trust.
“How did I end up in your story?” Jameson asked. Claire, I hope you are there.
He inched closer to her. “How do we all end up in each other’s stories?” He looked her in the eye. “Take Little Tommy Tucker who sings for his supper,” he said. “Or, what about Little Miss Muffet? They all have something in common. Someone takes something from all of them,” he said. “They think they are safe. They’re curious, hopeful, minding their own business until something stops them in their tracks. Tommy Tucker has no knife. He has no wife,” he explains. “Miss Muffet? A spider takes over her tuffet. There are no happy endings,” he said. “We’re all living in The House That Jack Built.”
“Go!” Claire said.
He reached behind him and picked up a hammer from the ground. “You’re just the latest resident,” he whispered to Jameson.
Jameson’s stomach flipped over violently. She anticipated his move and lifted her hand to grab his. Their motion sent them both falling backward, leaving him hovering above her.
“Fuck the ladder,” Claire said. She jumped through the small opening in the floor. She landed with a small thud on what she imagined was a rolled-up tent. “On the right, Toles. On the right! They’re on the ground!”
Alex drew her gun and started into the barn. A small army of agents followed on her heels. “Where!” she asked.
“Behind the woodpile.”
Jameson struggled to match the strength of the man above her. She caught a glimpse of Claire behind him. Thank God.
In less than a second, Claire had grabbed the hand holding the hammer. She whisked the man off Jameson and threw him to the ground. “Son of a bitch.” He got up before Claire could draw her weapon and cocked his arm to swing the hammer at her. She ducked.
Alex ran up behind the man as cries of “FBI!” rang out behind her. Her focus remained squarely on the man. For a split second, she considered firing her weapon. Her foot seemed a better option. She landed a kick squarely in the middle of his back. He tipped and Claire’s fist sent him backward onto the ground with a thud.
Alex held her gun on him. She shook her head. “FBI,” she said. “John Carter, you are under arrest for the murder of Kaylee Peters…”
Claire heard Alex reading the suspect his rights. She moved a few short paces to where Jameson was finding her feet. “You okay?”
Jameson nodded.
“You did good,” Claire said. Jameson stared at the scene unfolding a few feet away. Claire took hold of her arm. “JD,” she said. “You did good. Go call your wife.”
Claire’s words finally pulled Jameson’s focus away from the organized chaos in the barn. She nodded. Claire watched her walk away and sighed. An approaching voice caught her attention.
“The legend,” he said when Alex spun him around, his hands cuffed behind his back. Alex stared at him passively. He laughed. “What’s the matter, Agent Toles? Ding Dong Bell,” he said. “How’d you like the well, pussycat?”
Alex’s expression remained unchanged. “Your rhymes are over, Carter. We know everything.”
He laughed again. “You haven’t begun.”
***
“Candace?”
“Jameson? Are you all right?” Candace could feel the trembling in her hand as she held the phone.
“Other than really sweaty, I’m fine.”
“Alex?”
“They got him.”
“Jameson?”
Jameson closed her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it—not right now.”
“I’m coming home.”
“Candace…”
“Don’t bother,” Candace said. “I’ll see you in as soon as I can get Cooper ready.”
Jameson set her phone on the table and sighed.
“Hey,” Claire poked her head in the kitchen.
“Hey.”
Claire stepped in. “Afraid I’ll have to take a raincheck on that shot,” she said. Jameson smiled weakly.
Claire took a deep breath. It wasn’t in her nature to reassure people. She had seen the hint of ghosts in Jameson’s eyes. And, Claire Brackett knew a thing or two about ghosts. While Claire was sure that the conversation in the barn had unsettled Jameson, she suspected the experience had conjured old demons and fears
.
“I told you; you did good,” Claire said.
“Glad it worked.”
“Listen, JD, shit like this? Dealing with people like that asshole in the barn? It messes with you. He’s not just sick,” Claire said. “He’s an asshole without a conscience. I get it. You were out there working with him for two hours—talking. You know why you’re there, but he makes you forget for a minute. You think maybe, just for a second he’s not the guy you know he is. Then, just when you think he’s someone else, he shows you his true colors. I’ve lived it,” Claire said.
Jameson sighed. “How could I be so comfortable with him?”
“How do you think he managed to lure all those women?”
“Hey,” Alex peeked inside. “Sorry. We gotta’ roll,” she said to Claire.
“I’ll be right there,” Claire replied.
Alex nodded and offered Jameson an understanding smile. “We’ll talk soon,” she promised.
Claire waited until Alex had shut the door to continue her thought. “Killers are people, JD. The worst of them are the most charming. It’s what makes them sinister. You held your own. You looked him in the eye. That takes more than guts. It takes resolve. Don’t second guess anything you said or did.”
Jameson nodded. “I don’t know how people end up like that.”
“People will say they’re sick. Maybe. Maybe someone fucked with their life at some point. That’s not what makes them kill for pleasure.”
“Then what does?”
Claire shrugged. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “You have a soul, so you think everyone else does. Maybe sometimes that piece is just missing.” She reached out and put a hand on Jameson’s shoulder. “Raincheck on shots and marriage?”
Jameson smiled. “I look forward to it.”
“Me too.”
***
Candace walked through the door in search of Jameson. The eerie quiet in the house unsettled her. It had taken her longer to leave Albany than she had hoped. Jonah offered to take Cooper for the night. Cooper was delighted and Candace was grateful. She knew that Jameson was physically safe. Jameson’s voice had sounded hollow to her over the phone. That concerned her. A faint banging met her ears when she reached the kitchen and she followed the sound to the back door. Candace looked outside and sighed. It appeared that Jameson was putting the finishing touches on a play scape for Cooper. She took a deep breath. The last thing Jameson needed was to see how rattled Candace felt. Candace opened the screen door and took a step onto the back porch.
“Been busy, I see.”
Jameson looked up from her task. “How long have you been there?”
“Only a minute,” Candace replied. “Quite the project.”
Jameson looked at her creation and shrugged. “I hope they enjoy it.”
Candace stepped off the porch and made her way to Jameson. She shook her head affectionately. Jameson was a mess. She was covered in several layers of dirt, sweat, and wood stain. She reached out for Jameson.
“I’m filthy,” Jameson protested.
Candace ignored Jameson and stepped directly into her arms. “You’re safe.”
Jameson closed her eyes when Candace’s head fell against her. In less than a second, she heard soft cries escape Candace.
“I’m okay,” Jameson promised.
Candace pulled back. “You are a horrible liar.”
Jameson smiled. “I’m okay.”
Candace cupped Jameson’s cheek in her palm. “Don’t lie to me, honey—or for me. I have eyes.”
“It was a long day,” Jameson confessed.
“You kept at it.”
“I needed to stay busy.”
Candace could tell that Jameson was not quite ready to talk about the events that had unfolded earlier. “Are you finished yet?” she gestured to the structure Jameson was in the process of staining.
“About twenty more minutes,” Jameson said.
“Have you eaten?”
Jameson shook her head.
Candace sighed. She desperately wanted to keep Jameson close. She sensed that was not what Jameson needed at the moment. “How about I work on that? When you’re done, you go shower and I’ll have dinner waiting.”
“Where’s Coop?”
“He’s spending the night with his big brother.”
Jameson nodded.
“Jameson, if you want Cooper to come home just say so. Jonah will bring him here.”
“No. I’m sure he was excited.”
“He was, but when he sees what you’ve been working on, I think he will forget all about his plans.”
Jameson shook her head. “It needs to dry,” she said absently.
“Jameson…”
Jameson leaned in and kissed Candace’s lips gently. “Let me finish so I can get washed up.”
Candace nodded. She kissed Jameson one more time and made her way back into the house. She was relieved to see Jameson was all right. She wasn’t sure how to reach her wife. I wish she would talk to me.
***
“What’s all this?” Jameson asked when she reached the living room.
“All this?”
“You cooked.”
“I do have that ability,” Candace quipped.
“I know,” Jameson said. “I thought maybe we would have take-out.”
“I thought I might be able to entice you to eat with something you enjoy.”
Jameson smiled. The coffee table was set for dinner with a bottle of wine placed in the corner. Candace had made pasta with shrimp and scallops. Jameson had never pinned down exactly what Candace used to season the dish other than garlic. It was her favorite thing on earth to eat. Candace hadn’t made it in longer than Jameson could remember, mainly because Cooper didn’t care for shellfish and neither did Marianne.
Jameson took a seat on the sofa. “Thanks.”
“It’s just pasta.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Candace looked at Jameson with concern.
“I’m okay,” Jameson said again. “I really am. I just—I realized how close he came…”
“To hurting you?” Candace asked.
“No,” Jameson said. “I wasn’t worried about my safety.”
Candace listened with interest.
“I knew he would make an advance,” she said. “I knew that Claire and Alex would be there.”
“But?”
Jameson sucked in a deep breath. “For a few minutes, I forgot all about why we were there. We were working on the play scape and I just—Candace—it’d be so easy for someone not knowing who he was to be caught off guard by him.” Jameson closed her eyes and rubbed them. “If he’d gotten to Shell before…”
Candace moved to Jameson’s side and rubbed her back. “He didn’t.”
“I know. He could have. I can’t imagine what those girls…”
“Jameson,” Candace called soothingly. “He can’t hurt anyone anymore. You made sure of that.”
“You talked to Alex, didn’t you?”
“She called, yes.”
“Did he confess?”
“I don’t know,” Candace said. “I would imagine they are still grilling him.”
Jameson looked at the bowl in front of her. Her stomach revolted.
“You don’t have to eat,” Candace said.
“You went to the trouble…”
“Taking care of you is no trouble,” Candace said. “If you can’t eat—don’t.”
Jameson looked at Candace apologetically.
“What can I do?” Candace asked.
“Nothing. I’m so tired.”
“Let me wrap this up, and we’ll go lie down.”
“You need to eat,” Jameson replied.
“I need to be with you. Go upstairs. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Candace, I…”
“Don’t make me give you a time-out.”
Jameson snickered. She was exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally. Candace could always cajol
e her out of a funk. Having Candace close had already begun to lighten her spirits. “If time-out involves our bed and using you as a pillow, I will be happy to be punished.”
“Well then, time-out it is.”
Jameson leaned in and pecked Candace on the cheek. “I don’t think I can talk tonight,” she said. “I just need to…”
Candace smiled. There were times in life when a person needed the simple solace of an embrace. Words had their place and their time. Now, was not that time for Jameson. Candace was less concerned about hearing a play by play of the day’s events as she was making certain Jameson was all right. She could get the details other ways if she desired. “Your human pillow will join you shortly.”
Jameson nodded and started for the stairs. “Candace?”
Candace looked up.
“I love you,” Jameson said.
“I love you too.”
***
Candace rolled over when she heard her phone. Jameson grumbled. “Go back to sleep,” Candace told her. She pulled herself from the bed and made her way out of the room to take the call.
“Alex?”
“Hey, did I wake you?”
“No,” Candace answered honestly.
“How’s JD?”
“Truthfully?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know, Alex—quiet. She’s quiet. She was so exhausted she couldn’t eat.” Candace heard Alex sigh. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Alex replied. “He confessed.”
Candace let out a relieved breath.
“I’m not sure we would have gotten his confession without JD.”
“Alex, what aren’t you telling me about today?”
“Nothing pertinent if that’s what you are thinking. Listen, it’s normal—JD being quiet. It’s normal.”
“Alex, she built an entire playground out in our yard.”
Campaign Trail (By Design Book 9) Page 18
