Ring of Lies

by Howard, Victoria

  ‘You can’t be sure of that.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  Grace bit down on the inside of her cheek. The pain kept the confusion roiling inside of her from spilling out. She didn’t know whether to believe him or not. The night closed in around them. She’d never been afraid of the dark, but hemmed in by palmettos and willow bustic, every branch and leaf seemed to threaten her very existence.

  The moonlight cast crazy shadows on the ground. Water dripped and plopped through bushes, ran down leaves, soaking her skin. Her blood ran cold, her teeth chattered uncontrollably. Apart from the sound of rustling leaves and creaking branches, there was silence.

  Grace lost all track of time. Something slithered over her leg. She clamped her hands to her mouth to hold back a scream, as the cold, lithe body of a snake wrapped itself around her foot.

  Jack hissed in her ear. ‘It’s a corn snake—non venomous. The heat must have brought it out of hibernation. Don’t move.’

  ‘Get it off me! Get it off me, now!’ Heart booming in her ears, she watched, mesmerized, as the snake paused to taste the air before unwinding its sinuous body, and gliding through the undergrowth toward a dense thicket of palmetto.

  ‘It’s okay, it’s gone.’

  Grace relaxed, sinking into Jack’s cushioning embrace. His hands cupped her face. His lips brushed her temple, her cheek.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he repeated, and then his lips found her mouth in a kiss that made her senses spin.

  All the fear that she’d worked hard to control flared into passion. The need that rose up in her so strong, so unlike anything she’d ever felt before, that all she could do was let the moment spin out around them.

  Breathless, Jack dragged his mouth from hers. He ran a fingertip over lips. She didn’t move. One of his hands slid into her hair. And he leaned in until his lips were almost brushing hers.

  ‘I shouldn’t have done that. But damn it, Grace, I want you.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘I want you so much it scares me.’

  ‘But now’s not the time or the place?’

  Jack shook his head. ‘There are things we need to talk about. Things I need to explain.’

  ‘Later?’

  ‘Promise.’

  She saw the light, then—a narrow beam swinging from side to side at the edge of the trees. Every nerve in her body tensed.

  The light grew brighter.

  The leaves of the palmettos and bustic crackled and rustled as their pursuer came within yards of their hideaway. The surrounding bushes convulsed as something heavy thrashed down through the branches.

  Moving silently, Jack came to his knees, arms outstretched, gun at the ready, a lethal calmness in his eyes.

  Grace stuffed her knuckles in her mouth to suppress a scream. Bile rose in her throat. She willed the sickness away. Rigid with fear, she crouched in the bushes, certain she was about to die.

  After moment, their pursuer moved off to the left.

  Water rippled and bubbled.

  Suddenly, the light swung in a semicircle and settled back on their hiding place.

  Grace’s instincts told her to spring to her feet and run, and keep on running, but whoever was out there would kill her, then Jack. She couldn’t allow that.

  Jack shifted position, his gun following the narrow beam of the light as it danced through the branches.

  A shadow stepped out of the trees.

  ‘It’s no use hiding. I know you’re in there,’ a male voice shouted.

  The ground in front of Grace exploded in a hail of bullets. She scooted backward into the head-high scrub, ignoring the sharp leaves of the palmetto that scratched and tore at her skin.

  Jack yelled, and waited until the light focused on him, then returned fire. The gunman cursed, but let off another round. A bullet slammed into the tree next to Jack’s shoulder, sending bark chips flying.

  Jack fired again in rapid succession. Grace lost count of the shots.

  The shooter screamed, sank to his knees, a hand clutched to his chest as he crumpled to the ground.

  ‘Stay here until I tell you it’s safe to move,’ Jack called. He edged forward, his gun trained on the spot where the man lay face down in the dirt. He kicked the man’s weapon away, then leaned down and felt for a pulse.

  Grace crawled out from her hiding place. ‘Is…is he dead?’

  Jack lowered his gun, and spun round. ‘Yeah, he’s dead.’ He stood and walked over to her and helped to her feet. Smothering a groan, she fell into his arms and pressed her face to his shoulder.

  ‘Do you think he was alone?’

  ‘We’d have known by now if he weren’t. Think you can hold the flashlight for me? I need to check for ID.’

  Grace picked it up from where it lay on the ground and shone it toward the body. She tried not to look at the rapidly growing stain covering the man’s shirt. The world spun and she swayed. She closed her eyes against the nausea that rose in her throat.

  ‘You okay?’ Jack said.

  ‘I feel—’ She quickly turned away and bent over.

  Jack locked an arm around her waist and held her steady until she was done. When she turned around and looked at him, her face was shockingly pale.

  ‘Don’t feel embarrassed. I hurl every time I walk into an autopsy.’

  Grace wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘I didn’t realize there’d be so much blood,’ she said through clenched teeth, her body shaking.

  ‘Here, rinse out,’ Jack said, offering her the bottle of water.

  Grace did he suggested, then poured some into her hands and splashed it on her face.

  ‘Feeling better?’

  She nodded, head down, eyes focused on her feet.

  ‘Go and stand by that tree while I finish up here.’

  Taking a deep, unsteady breath, she tottered away, her hands clenched stiffly at her sides. Jack dropped to his knees next to their assailant, and went through his pockets.

  ‘Do you recognize him?’ she called over her shoulder.

  ‘No, and there’s nothing in his pockets except a book of matches and a set of keys. We’ll need fingerprints and dental records to make a formal identification.’ He pocketed both, picked up the assailant’s gun, and strode over to where she stood. He lightly touched her elbow.

  ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  Grace looked at the body with distaste. ‘What about him?’

  ‘The medical examiner can collect what the alligator’s leave behind.’

  Her energy drained, every footstep became an effort. Several times they were forced to backtrack almost to the edge of the slough before they finally found their way out of the marsh onto a dirt track.

  Grace hunched over, her arms resting on her thighs. ‘Which way now?’

  Jack turned to his left and walked a little way down the track, then walked back, stopping in front of her. The ground was damp from the rain, but he could still make out faint tyre tracks.

  ‘That way,’ he said pointing to the right.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘There’s a stand of trees up ahead. I reckon that’s where we left the car.’ He shifted the backpack into a more comfortable position on his shoulder. ‘You ready?’

  Grace pushed back her tousled hair and straightened. Used to the sounds of the night and the shifting shadows, her hand slipped into Jack’s as they walked quickly, guided only by the silvery moonlight.

  They rounded a bend, and there, parked in a small clearing was Jack’s Ford Explorer, and next to it a Dodge Ram pickup.

  Jack placed a restraining hand on her arm. ‘Wait here while I check things out.’ Without taking his eyes off both vehicles, he crept forward, gun in hand. The driver’s door was open, but the cab was empty. He holstered his weapon then did a quick search of the interior, but found nothing more than an empty Coke bottle.

  He slipped the keys he removed from the shooter’s pocket into the ignition and started the engine, then reversed back down the t
rack to where Grace waited.

  ‘Get in.’

  Grace dropped the backpack onto the floor between her feet, and fastened the seatbelt. Glancing at the dashboard clock she saw that it was just after midnight. She wrapped her arms around her chest and peered at Jack.

  ‘What happens now?’

  ‘According to the GPS there’s a Ranger Station about three miles from here. There’ll be a phone. We can call Mike, fill him in, and have him send help.’

  They fell into silence disturbed only by the sound of the pickup’s engine. Gradually, the trees thinned out and marsh and sawgrass took over. She stared out into the darkness, and felt only fear.

  So much had happened in so little time, that she no sooner came to terms with one event, when another knocked her sideways. And then there was Jack. Tonight the agent had taken charge, cool, efficient, yet at the same time gentle and protective.

  Rain lashed the windows, overwhelming the wipers, misting the windows. Jack leaned forward and scrubbed a hand over the glass.

  ‘There!’ Grace said, pointing to a single story log cabin rising out of the darkness. ‘It looks deserted.’

  ‘Probably closed for the Christmas holidays.’

  Jack manoeuvred the pickup into position in front of the building and cut the engine. A single light illuminated the door. Grace could make out a series of birdfeeders hanging from the eaves. A row of pots, filled with a variety of plants and flowers, sat under the porch. An observation tower stood off to one side.

  ‘Bring the backpack,’ Jack said and got out of the car. He lifted a tyre iron out of the toolbox in the back of the pickup and used it to jimmy open the shuttered door. An alarm sounded, filling the air with a high-pitched wail.

  Grace clapped her hand over her ears. ‘Can’t you stop it?’

  ‘Sure.’ He swung the tyre iron at the control panel, smashing it to pieces then flipped on the lights. An interactive display covered the back wall. To the left of the entrance there was a retail area, selling guidebooks, videos, and clothing.

  Jack strode over to the cash register. A cordless phone lay on the counter next to it. He picked it up and listened for a dial tone.

  ‘Take some clothes off the rack, and see if you can find anything to eat and drink. I’m going to call Mike.’

  Grace grabbed a sweatshirt and fleece jacket from the rack, and a pair of hiking socks from the stand, then followed the signs to ladies room. Once inside she stripped off her T-shirt and used it, along with a whole pack of paper towels to dry herself off as best she could. The sweatshirt was three sizes too big, but at least it was warm and dry. There was nothing she could do about her wet jeans or shoes.

  The staff kitchen was small and well equipped, but the cupboards and refrigerator were empty.

  Jack hung up the phone as she returned. ‘Mike’s sending a helicopter. It should be here within the hour.’ He pulled a T-shirt off the rack and changed into it. ‘There’s a sofa over there. Why don’t you lie down and get some rest? Here use these as a pillow.’ He tossed her a couple of thick fleece jackets.

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’m okay.’

  Grace stretched out. Weariness swamped her, yet something troubled her. ‘That guy…how did he know where to find us?’

  ‘He must have followed us.’

  Grace shook her head. ‘All the way from the island to Miami and back? I don’t think so.’

  Jack opened his mouth to say something, but she was right. He would have noticed the vehicle tailing him, which meant that someone had to have tipped the guy off. But who?

  He slid off the sofa and started to pace. Grace heard a fluttering in the distance. It grew louder.

  ‘Helicopter,’ Jack said. ‘Thank God for Mike.’

  After that things moved quickly. Jack relayed information regarding the location of the shooter to the police and medical examiner. Grace sat on the sofa watching. It was bad enough that she’d witnessed the incident, without hearing Jack recant the events again and again.

  People came and went. Minutes became hours. Someone wrapped a blanket round her shoulders and offered her a hot drink from a flask. The sun was an orange and gold glow on the eastern horizon when Jack’s shadow fell over her.

  ‘ The cops and medical examiner will be here for hours yet. It’s time to go.’

  Grace stood and followed him out to the waiting car. She was too tired to enquire where it had come from. Instead she sank gratefully into the leather passenger seat. Every bone in her body ached. She longed for a long soak in a hot tub and eight hours uninterrupted sleep.

  The digital clock on the dashboard flashed eleven fifty-five am, as they drove across the causeway to Gasparilla Island. Somewhere along the way she’d drifted off to sleep, lulled by the drone of tyres on tarmac. She sat up and rolled her neck, yawning.

  ‘Another few minutes and you can crawl into bed.’

  Grace shook her head, gazing his face the whole time. ‘Tea, a shower, and then bed.’

  He raised an eyebrow. She seemed steadier than he expected. ‘The great British cure-all.’

  ‘Don’t mock it. Many a crisis has been averted over a pot of tea.’

  ‘You’ve changed, Grace. You’ve been threatened, shot at and yet you seem so…I don’t know…resilient.’

  ‘Perhaps I’ve always been this strong, but Daniel’s domineering personality overwhelmed me. I’ve had time to accept that he was involved in something illegal. He exerted control over me during our marriage. I won’t allow him to control my life from the grave.’ She stared straight ahead. ‘I wonder who he really was.’

  ‘We may never find out. Does that bother you?’

  ‘It did at first, but no longer. Who do you think tried to kill us?’ she asked as they entered the house.

  ‘Someone who thinks we’re getting too close to the truth,’ he suggested.

  Grace went straight to the kitchen. Wearily, she filled the kettle but didn’t switch it on. Instead, she rested her back against the counter. ‘The truth about what?’

  ‘Daniel Elliott’s true identity. The mastermind behind the scam. I’m not sure which.’

  She didn’t answer right away, but thought carefully about his suggestion. ‘But if they kill me, how will they get the money?’

  ‘I don’t know, Grace. Maybe the money isn’t that important to them, but the information contained on the computer disks is. I think it’s safe to assume there’s a connection—a common denominator between Elliott, Parous, Jacobs, and you. I just don’t know what or who it is yet.’

  ‘It can’t be anything else because I’ve told you all I know.’

  ‘I’m not so sure. There’s something we’re missing, a vital piece of information, an overheard conversation perhaps, that links the four of you. I think you should let me put you into the witness protection scheme.’

  ‘Why now?’

  His expression was tight with strain. ‘Because we got lucky tonight. Next time, things might not go our way. I just don’t want you to get hurt.’

  ‘I’m not going to run away, Jack.’

  He gathered her into his arms. ‘You wouldn’t be running away. You would be protected.’

  She smiled at him. ‘You protected me.’

  ‘And a damn poor job I did. Look at you. You’re covered in cuts and scratches.’

  Grace smiled, touched by his concern. ‘They’re not your fault. I’ll put some antiseptic cream on after I’ve showered,’ she said and traced the line of the cut on his cheek. ‘Your face—’

  ‘Is fine.’

  ‘At least let me put a dressing on it.’

  ‘Stop worrying about me.’ He captured her right hand and kissed her fingertips. Her breath hitched. It was the most seductive thing she’d ever experienced. He turned her hand and tasted each one of her fingers before his lips moved across her palm to the sensitive flesh at the base of her wrist.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘What I’ve dreamt of doing every night
for the last six months.’

  Grace’s eyes widened. She started to say something, but the words never formed. His mouth covered hers hungrily, his tongue gentle and probing. Currents of desire rippled through her. Instinctively, her arms went around his neck, her lips parted as he gave her what she wordlessly sought.

  Heat chased through her body, and settled in the pit of her stomach. She could feel his heart thudding against her breast and felt the answering beat of her own. His hand slipped under her sweatshirt, and explored the soft lines of her back, waist and hips, his fingers teasing and arousing her. Shivers of delight followed his every caress, flooding her body with desire.