Many times, he saw families in stressful waiting rooms become uncooperative. This was the first time he found himself in that position. Desperate. Pushy. Defensive. He didn’t like the feelings that had raged through his body. Never again would he look at a victim’s agitated family member in the same way.
He shook his head. In less than fifteen minutes, he’d blocked the nurse from her job, made the doctor mad, and ordered another FBI agent out of the room.
Way to go, JB. Way to go.
…
Marcy had stared at the door ever since JB walked out a few minutes ago. So much for thinking she’d never see him again.
It had taken weeks for the lawyer to track JB down when she’d sent the divorce papers. Then, out of the blue, the papers arrived back, signed. The FBI’s only comment had been to say they didn’t disclose the whereabouts of their undercover agents. After her attorney had left the papers with her that day, on the promise she’d sign and get them back to him for filing, she’d sat down in JB’s chair and bawled herself to sleep.
That had been over a year ago. And she’d been perfectly fine all by herself.
Then last week, when she’d first heard he would be back in town to settle his dad’s estate, she’d thought about taking a trip. Why hadn’t she followed through on that idea? Gone over to the lake. Booked a room for a couple of days at the fancy-shmancy lakefront hotel. Instead, she’d opted for a highly unlikely chance encounter. Now, look where that had landed her.
Sadie brushed Marcy’s hair back from her forehead with a damp cloth. Offered her a cold drink of water. Rubbed lotion on her hands and arms. The tension from her body began to ease.
“Thanks.” The motherly attention felt good to her today.
All the while, Betsy had stood looking out the window. Her sister didn’t like hospital rooms…too many memories from her time spent in one years ago. Yet here she was being part of what the three women had always been. Strong and always there for each other.
Sadie sat back down in the chair by the bed. “What are you gonna do?”
“Nothing.” Marcy shook her head, making the room spin for a moment with her grogginess. “Nothing at all.”
“You’ve got to tell him.” Betsy turned and walked to the bedside, leaning over the rail. “As much as I dislike JB, he deserves to know.”
Marcy turned away. This couldn’t be happening. Her life had been perfect just a little over twenty-four hours ago. Well, maybe not perfect, but at least it was what she had decided to make of her life. She’d gone her own way. He’d gone his.
If the people who knew her secret—Sadie, Betsy, her uncle Sheriff Davis, and her church deacon, Dr. Crowley—just kept quiet for as long as JB was in town, everything would be fine. With luck and a little time, she could set everything right.
“You understand, don’t you, Mama?” She stared into Sadie’s eyes.
Her mama sighed, lifting her lips into a weak smile. “I understand you made a choice that’s turned into a messy situation. Agreed?”
“Maybe. But, I can fix this.” She turned back to her sister. “Just promise me you won’t say anything. Promise…please.”
Betsy turned and walked back to the window, shaking her head. “Sure. Sure, I’ll be quiet. When have I ever been anything but quiet when it comes to what you do with your life?”
Not good enough. Marcy knew her sister too well. “Promise, Betsy.”
“I promise.”
She gripped her mama’s hand tighter. “Now you. Promise?”
“You know me, I hate making promises. Might have to break one.”
Chapter Four
JB stopped at the nurses’ station. “Has anyone seen the man who was supposed to be waiting for me here?”
“He asked what room Leon Ferguson was in.” The unit secretary didn’t look up, just pointed down the hall.
“Thanks.” From being a Crayton deputy in the past, he knew the location for secured hospital rooms and headed in that direction. No need to ask for a guard on Marcy’s rooms. The police would tell him she was just an innocent bystander. That they didn’t have the finances or manpower to secure every room in the hospital.
That was okay. He’d secure the room himself.
Nearing Leon’s room, he didn’t recognize the patrolman stationed outside Leon’s door except as the one who tossed him the Kevlar yesterday. Of course, there’d probably been a lot of changes in the past three years.
The cop, Patrolman Kennett from his name badge, stepped in front of him. “May I help you, sir?”
“Has FBI Special Agent Landon been here yet?” JB flashed his badge, even though he knew he shouldn’t, given that he’d resigned.
Kennett was about his own age, early thirties. Same height, lean, and broad-shouldered. Cropped, dark hair with even darker brown eyes. Pressed uniform. Polished shoes. Overall, the man seemed professional in all regards. In fact, JB found it hard to believe he was only a rookie.
The cop stepped aside. “He’s been in there about fifteen minutes.”
“Did you offer to go in with him?” JB pushed the door open a slight crack.
“Yes, sir. He said that wouldn’t be necessary.” Kennett raised his eyebrows in question.
He let go of the door and waited until it closed before he locked eyes with the cop again. “Has Leon been assigned a lawyer?”
“Yes, sir. Said he waived his rights for this conversation.” Kennett leaned in close enough to garner attention to his statement. “Said he was among friends. Then he motioned Agent Landon over to his bed.”
Evidently, Leon thought this was some kind of game. JB remembered him being smarter than that. Of course, the man had walked into a bank the minute it opened and pulled a gun. Not smart. Then again, he’d always been a schemer, but what could he possibly be angling for at this stage?
JB planned to stay out of any interaction with Leon. Since, to hear Wilson and Landon talk, he was already too biased to be anywhere near this case. “What friends?”
“Beats me,” Kennett said.
JB sighed and cricked his neck. On one hand, he was glad to see Leon talking to the FBI without an attorney regulating the conversation. On the other, something didn’t set right with the idea that legal representation wasn’t present. “Maybe I’ll hang around. See if Leon changes his mind about the attorney.”
“You won’t have long to wait.” Kennett nodded down the hall. “The court-appointed attorney just stepped off the elevator.”
The lawyer marched up to the two men, a scowl cemented to his face. “I’m Garrett Watlow. Leon Ferguson is my client.”
JB held out his hand, flashing his shield in the other. “I’m Jean Bradley. My friends call me JB.”
“I’m not your friend, Mr. Bradley.” The attorney ignored the offer of civility. “What were you doing questioning my client without my permission?”
Kennett opened his mouth as if to defend him, but JB held up his hand then looped his thumbs in his front pockets. Non-confrontational.
“Well, Garrett, you were my friend in high school.” He leaned back against the wall. “You better get your facts straight before you blow steam in my direction.” He nodded at the cop.
“JB hasn’t talked to Leon.” Kennett said. “Special Agent Landon is in there.”
Garrett didn’t offer an apology. Instead, he barged through his client’s door. “Don’t say another word, Leon.”
Landon swung around. Surprise shot across his features, and trepidation coated his expression.
JB watched from the doorway.
Leon’s expression went from carefree to anxious. “What are you doing here, Watlow? I didn’t call you.”
The attorney ignored his client and faced Landon. “Get out of here now. I’ll be lodging a complaint with the Sheriff’s Department and your superior, too.”
Landon glared at him as if he were a gnat to be swatted away.
No fear etched Watlow’s face, either. “If I find out you’ve compromised thi
s case then I’ll have you before the judge by this time tomorrow. You’ll be one case less than you started the day.”
Leon smiled. “Me and Mr. Landon were just having us a friendly conversation. Isn’t that right?”
Landon’s shoulder twitched as he swallowed. “That’s right. My boss said he spoke with Leon, and no attorney had been requested.”
“That right?” Watlow zeroed in on his client.
Leon fidgeted with the sheet, looking every place but at his attorney. “I don’t rightly remember.”
JB catalogued every move, tone, and expression in the room. What was he missing? “Get out of there, Landon. Are you trying to blow the case?”
The agent balked and shot Leon a hard look, nodding even harder.
“Come on, Landon.” JB braced his arm against the doorframe to keep from charging into the room and extracting the agent. “Now.”
Landon stormed out of the room. “Don’t push me, JB. You quit, remember? So you don’t get to tell me how to do my job.”
Leon’s laughter echoed from the room. There was something strange about this whole scenario.
Garrett Watlow walked across to the door and extended his hand to JB. “Sorry about before. Good to see you again.”
No need to shun the apology. Might have done the same himself in Garrett’s place. He shook the man’s hand. “Good to see you, too.”
“Aw, now isn’t that sweet.” Leon lazed against the back of the bed as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “My attorney and an FBI agent… No, make that the ex-husband of my hostage and my attorney standing in my room, making nice and polite.”
JB turned toward the hallway.
“Hey, how’s Marcy doing?” Leon cackled.
JB stood stone-still.
“Let me know if there’s anything she needs. I can always make a quick trip down the hall.” Leon made kissy sounds. Laughed. “Anything at all.”
JB flexed his fist, then eased his fingers and walked away.
…
A couple days and a whole lot of coffee later, JB leaned back against the hospital wall and waited patiently…kind of. Marcy’d been a regular bad, high-maintenance, impatient patient. Insisting she could do everything when she couldn’t. Then double insisting she’d go home today. Even Sadie had noted her daughter had always been a quick healer.
His trips away from the hospital had been few. Mostly for a quick shave and shower his friends at the Crayton Police had offered, plus dropping in at the local department store for a change of clothes. At this point, he wanted a long, hot shower and a good night’s sleep. Was that too much to ask?
The past few days had been stressful. The past few months, horrendous. And the past few years, one never-ending series of tense negotiations with his judgment, his ego, and his stubbornness. Never mind on-the-job parlays, real or in-character.
As soon as Dr. Crowley would allow, JB would tend to Marcy at home. He didn’t want her in this hospital any longer than need be, even if it meant putting up with Marcy’s sass as she stormed around the house. And, no doubt about it, she would storm around the house.
Not being able to do what she wanted for a few days would accelerate her agitation. Him being there would launch her sky-high. She liked being in control. Everything within her sight would be fair game for cleaning or change—dust bunnies, cobwebs, smears on the windows, out-of-date food in the refrigerator, clothes that fit, clothes that didn’t fit, the heat, the a/c, curtains open, curtains closed. Nothing would be safe from her scrutiny…including him.
Dr. Crowley finished his examination then signed the release papers. “I’m only letting you go home because JB’s there in case you need anything.”
…
Marcy shot up in bed. “JB’s where?”
Oh, no, no, no, no, no. He was not going home with her. She’d go sleep on the street before she’d face the possibility of what he might find at the house.
“At our house.” JB cricked his neck from side to side. “Seems the paperwork isn’t right to finish up my dad’s estate, so I’ll be in town a few more days.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears as she slid gingerly to a standing position. Effects from the medications still lingered. A few rapid blinks of her eyelids focused her vision enough that she could point at him. “Who said you could stay at my house?”
“Our house.”
Wincing from the fact she’d raised her arm with the stitches, she lowered it just as fast. Next time, she’d be more careful. Our house? What did he mean…our house? She lightly shook her head to clear the fog clouding her thoughts as the air between them hung heavy in the room. Was it just her that felt the weight of this so-called outcome? Because this situation had never entered her mind when she decided to keep certain things a secret.
“I told him he could stay there. Now if you have a problem with the arrangement, then the three of us can discuss other options.” Sadie shot her daughter a warning look. “That is, once everyone is on the same page about you and JB’s relationship.”
“What does that mean?” Marcy asked.
“Nothing.” Her mama smiled all sweet and nice…almost sugary. Sadie was not the sugary type.
From the corner of her eye, Marcy saw the furrowing of JB’s brow. He’d picked up on the wording. Wouldn’t take him long to start asking questions. Then all heck would break loose.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She needed to cover her mother’s insinuation there was anything out of the way going on in Marcy’s life.
“Really?” Sadie lowered her voice and continued, “Then you don’t mind if we talk about those divorce papers and how they never…”
Marcy took a couple steps toward her mama, weaved, and then braced against the side of the hospital bed. “You wouldn’t.”
Sadie cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. “Wouldn’t I?”
She could tell JB had tilted his head, trying to hear their quiet conversation.
“There’s no other place for me to stay around here.” JB appeared as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “I hoped you’d help me out. Let me stay. For old times’ sake?”
“There are at least five hotels in the area,” Marcy reminded him.
She watched his expression tighten with the narrowing of his eyes, the lift of his chin, the squaring of his shoulders.
“You don’t need to remind me of hotels.” His too calm and quiet tone emphasized the moment. “But may I remind you that my name is still on the property. And I plan to stay in my house while I’m in town.”
She’d forgot about his one demand in the divorce decree. That his name would stay on the deed to their home. She hadn’t fought him since that was the only thing he asked for. Besides, from the moment they walked into the house years ago, she’d known how important having a place to call home meant to him. All well and good, but, she hadn’t expected him to ever be back in the house…with her…not even on a temporary basis. This could be a problem.
“I could stay with my mama.” She looked at Dr. Crowley, hoping for agreement. None there.
“I’m busy. My house is too small. May be going on a trip.” Sadie walked over to the window. “Might even paint the living room. Strip the woodwork. Or something.”
“I get the idea, mama. You think I should go home.”
Sadie turned to her daughter, grinning a genuine Sadie-smile. “I think you should go home. Let JB take care of you for a few days.”
Marcy grabbed the release form from the doctor and signed. “Okay. I’m going home.” She pointed at JB. “You can stay. A little while.”
He nodded. “Whatever you say, sugar.”
The nurse entered, followed by a volunteer pushing a wheelchair.
“No. No wheelchair.” Marcy took a step toward the door and teetered.
JB swooped her up in his arms and deposited her in the wheelchair.
She sighed heavy. Tired. Defeated. Ready to go home. “Thanks.”
He flicked t
he foot rests down and stepped behind the handles as she raised her feet into place. What was that about one step starting the rest of your life? Not today. Their life together was over. This was nothing more than a momentary inconvenience that she could handle. After all, she’d sent the divorce papers. He’d signed them. This was nothing.
She bit the inside corner of her mouth. Nothing…except for that one little problem she hadn’t told him about.
Sadie held the door open as he pushed the wheelchair into the hallway. “See you later.”
“Bye, mama.” She folded her hands nice and neat in her lap as she slumped back in the chair.
“Get ready for the ride of your life.” He walked faster, pushing a smooth, slow curve from side to side. Not enough to give her pain, but enough to give her spice. That’s what he used to call doing anything just outside the line of propriety.
Marcy grabbed one arm rest, then the other. “JB what are you doing?”
“Are you in pain?”
“No.”
“Then hold on and enjoy the ride.” The wheels on the chair spun faster when he broadened his stride, increasing the pace.
Volunteers hugged the wall. Dr. Crowley stepped back into a room. The janitor buffing the floor spun in a circle with his machine. The automatic doors slid open a second before he careened through them and onto the sidewalk in front of the hospital. He stopped at the edge of the curb, right next to his truck, and flipped the wheelchair brakes in place.
“You’re crazy, JB Bradley.” She looked up at him with feistiness. “Down right crazy.”
“Learned everything I know from you, sugar.” He rested his hand on her shoulder.
“Stop calling me sugar.” She jerked around and stabbed him with her back-off stare.
He backed off. Grinned.
That had probably been a mistake. Now he’d do it just to spite her. She might as well face the fact she’d screwed up on a lot of levels. But all she had to do right now was make it through the next few days. Keep her mouth shut, and stay away from anyone in town who knew her secret. Because if JB found out, he’d be livid.
Risk of a Lifetime Page 4
