Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set

by Rebecca Belliston

  “Your guy,” she said, willing some strength into her voice. “The one who arrested me. He…” She felt sick all over again. “He stole my money.”

  Jamansky looked confused.

  “I had four hundred dollars when he arrested me. He stole it all before he brought me inside here.” Her breathing sped up. “I want it back.”

  An insane request, but she wanted to do her own scrutinizing. Jamansky claimed he had nothing to do with her arrest. Let him prove it in his reactions.

  “Who was it?” he said, keeping his face even.

  She pictured the large man close to her. Her breathing sped up. “I…I can’t remember his name. A big man.”

  “Giordano. Not surprising. He can be quite the brute. Did he…” He paused. “Did he hurt you?”

  Another wall of tears hit her. She dropped her chin, hating herself for being so weak, feeling like her eyes were constantly swelling shut. She had cried more in the last day than she had in the last six years, but she couldn’t control the tears any more than she could control her surroundings. She was a slave to them both.

  Jamansky’s fists clenched. “He will be punished severely, and I’ll make sure you get your money back. You seem to keep forgetting that I’m your friend, Carrie. I’m on your side.”

  “Friend? If you’re my friend,” she said bitterly, “then tell me where Oliver is. Where he really is?”

  His brows lowered, mouth twitching a moment before any words came out. “I already told you. He’s in Virginia for training.”

  If there was any chance, any way at all that Oliver was actually in some harmless government training, she had to let him know what had happened. He could help. No, he would help them find a way out for her siblings. But he couldn’t help what he didn’t know.

  “Then give him a message for me,” she asked.

  Jamansky sat back, regarding her. “I’m not sure how to put this, Carrie, but Oliver is not…exactly…”

  Her stomach clenched. “What?”

  “Oliver has requested a transfer. He no longer works in my unit.” He let that sink in a second before adding, “He won’t be coming back from Virginia. Ever again.”

  She blinked slowly, trying to dissect each word. “Why?”

  “Rumor has it that some girl broke his heart. I’m assuming…” He waved a hand in her direction.

  Anger flashed. “You’re lying.”

  “Wish I was. Look, I don’t know what happened between you and Oliver, or how much you hurt him. When I talked to him about Virginia, he sounded relieved about the opportunity. I assumed he would only be gone a few months, so that’s what I told you. But now he’s vowed to never return. I’m sorry to be the one to have to break the news. I’m sorry he wasn’t man enough to tell you himself.”

  Lies. Lies. Lies! she wanted to scream.

  The last she’d seen Oliver Simmons had been in her yard when he dropped her and Greg off from the hospital. Oliver said he would come back to check on her, but then he disappeared and Jamansky appeared, and nothing had made sense again.

  “I know it’s none of my business,” Jamansky said, leaning forward, “but the guys at the station said he left because his girlfriend had been unfaithful to him. Is it true? Did you…cheat on Officer Simmons?”

  The word felt like a slap.

  Stung, she looked up.

  Jamansky nodded as if that was answer enough. “Not that I blame you. Who’s the other guy? Anyone I know?”

  She glared at him.

  “Ah, so I do know him,” he said, interpreting her response how he wanted. “I hope it’s not that Pierce guy, the one who lives in your neighborhood. Because that guy is a snake. You should see how he hits on my clerk in town. Total womanizer. Tell me a nice girl like you didn’t fall for his bait.”

  Her fists clenched in her handcuffs. She was done with David Jamansky. She was done with the lies. Unfortunately, he wasn’t.

  “Wow, Carrie. I thought you were smarter than that. Although…that might explain something.” His eyes widened suddenly. He shot to his feet and started pacing the small white room in front of her. “Oh, man. I can’t believe he’s this vindictive.”

  “Who?” she said coldly.

  He stopped in front of her. “Oliver Simmons. Look at what he’s done to you—what he did to your family. All because you fell for some other guy? How could he do this to you?”

  She jerked back. “Oliver didn’t do this.”

  “How else do you explain everything? I knew you were legal. Everyone in my precinct did. I specifically gave them orders not to touch you or your house, and yet here you are. Oliver must have called Ellen and Giordano himself and bribed them somehow, just to get his revenge for you cheating on him.”

  “Oliver Simmons wouldn’t hurt a fly!” she yelled. “He wouldn’t do this to me, Amber, or Zach! Never in a million years.”

  Jamansky folded his arms, head shaking. “I bet he’s behind your new lover’s arrest, too.”

  She froze. “What?”

  “That O’Brien guy—Richard, right?—isn’t he Pierce’s stepdad?”

  She couldn’t even nod. The cold room dropped a few more degrees. New lover’s arrest. New lover’s arrest. The words sent ice through her.

  Jamansky grabbed his chair and sat again, leaning forward. “When I went to your house today, Richard O’Brien told me that you and your siblings weren’t the only ones who had been arrested. Apparently, a swarm of federal patrolmen surrounded Pierce’s house this morning. They took him for no reason. Just slapped him in handcuffs and dragged him away. He’s a special op now, right? But they took him, so I couldn’t understand. But now I do. Oliver Simmons must have set the whole thing up.”

  The blood hammered through her veins.

  Two thoughts cut through everything. First, how did Jamansky know that Greg had been made a special operative? And more importantly, how did Jamansky even know that Greg was alive? Only two days ago, Jamansky had been shoving Greg’s death in Richard’s face like some victory.

  And now…

  Her breathing sped up. Why would Jamansky invent a story like that, that Greg was not only alive but arrested? If the government knew Greg wasn’t dead, they would definitely send federal patrolmen after him. Her stomach rolled, threatening to heave up the mushy spaghetti. No. It couldn’t be true. Not Greg.

  Not Greg!

  She begged for another explanation, a reason that didn’t end with Greg’s arrest.

  The room spun violently around her.

  “Look, Carrie. Don’t think about Oliver anymore,” Jamansky said. “The guy is a total traitor. He deserves to hang for what he did to you and your family. And I’ll make sure Giordano and Ellen pay for their hand in this. But I’m here now, and I’m going to help you get out of here, okay?”

  She looked down at her orange uniform, at the dirt and the cuts on her wrists, imagining ten times worse for Greg. He’d been beaten so many times during military training, and that was before he had run.

  What would they do to him?

  For a second time, Jamansky’s words were sluggish to register in her thoughts.

  Her watery gaze lifted. “What?”

  He smiled. “I can get you out of here. Just give me a few days to get things in order.”

  “But…” Words failed her.

  Jamansky would free her?

  He reached out and rubbed her leg. “You’ll see. I’ll make everything right.”

  “Times up!” the guard behind them barked.

  Jamansky glared up at him. “That wasn’t ten minutes.”

  The guard grabbed Carrie’s arm and yanked her up to standing. He pushed her out of the room.

  “I’ll be back in a couple of days,” Jamansky called after her. “Just give me a few days, and everything will be as it should.”

  twenty-seven

  GREG LOWERED CARRIE’S WEATHER JOURNAL. He’d reread every entry four times. Tracking her life, even if only through the weather, somehow brought her
closer to him. But he stopped to listen. Then he leapt up to the window.

  A dark green patrol car pulled up the main road.

  He dropped the journal and ran.

  “He’s here!” he called, flying down the stairs. Greg sprinted out the front door, across Richard’s driveway, and into the middle of the street.

  Just in time.

  Jamansky slammed on his brakes, bringing his car to a screeching halt. Greg didn’t even flinch as the car stopped two feet from him. The patrol chief let out a furious stream of profanities that carried through the windshield.

  “That’s far enough,” Greg yelled back.

  Jamansky threw open his door. “Are you insane?”

  Greg might have answered, but he heard something that caused his muscles to seize. He leaned sideways to see around Jamansky. Two huge dogs barked wildly in the backseat, teeth snapping.

  “I told you to come alone,” Greg said, panicking.

  Jamansky’s chest heaved in and out. “Oh, don’t worry. My friends can’t betray any of your…secrets.”

  Greg eyed the German Shepherds. Patrol dogs. Trained patrol dogs.

  “Dogs can be shot as easily as you can,” he said.

  Understanding, Jamansky scanned the houses on each side of them. The nose of a rifle poked out of an upstairs window. Richard kept his face hidden as planned, but Greg wanted the gun to make its show early on. Terrell hid across the street in another house, hopefully not asleep. His window remained empty. Stupid Terrell. Thankfully, the one gun had the desired effect.

  Jamansky’s hands lifted. “Hey, I just brought my dogs along for the company. I actually think they’re going to like you, Pierce. Here. Let’s find out.”

  Before Greg knew what he was doing, Jamansky opened the back door and released his two dogs. They ran straight for Greg, barking and snarling.

  Greg fell back a step.

  He waited for Richard to start shooting, but Richard didn’t. Of course Richard didn’t. Greg cursed his stepdad and his supposed morals. Sometime overnight, the 9mm pistol had disappeared from under Greg’s pillow, too. Richard claimed innocence, but the guy couldn’t lie to save his life. What Greg would have given to have it tucked inside his shirt now.

  Jamansky let his dogs snarl at Greg’s feet before he called out, “Bretton, Felix, sitz!”

  The dogs dropped to their haunches in front of Greg. Greg took another step back just to be safe. Their teeth might have been put back in their proper places, but he preferred to have a few feet—or a football field—between him and those fangs.

  “I found her,” Jamansky said without preamble.

  In Greg’s distracted state, it took a second to understand. Then his head lifted.

  Carrie.

  “Where?” Greg said a little too anxiously.

  “Ah, yes. That would be something you’d like to know. But first…” Jamansky’s eyes flickered back to the rifle hanging out the upper window of Richard’s home. “We have some bargaining to do.”

  Greg folded his arms. “I thought I made it perfectly clear that your payment is spending the remainder of your days outside of iron bars.”

  “Yes, but then I spoke to someone. A woman—sorry, a lieutenant. We had a nice chat yesterday, and you want to know something? The whole conversation struck me as odd. She’d like you to call her, by the way. Told me to provide a phone for you. What do you think?” Jamansky moved as if to reach inside of his car. “Should I get my phone?”

  Greg didn’t move.

  Isabel Ryan.

  Jamansky had called Isabel.

  If that was the case, why hadn’t anybody shown up to haul him away? Richard had nearly flown through the roof when Greg admitted to confronting Jamansky yesterday. Ever since, Greg had been hesitant to return to Logan Pond, figuring McCormick’s unit would be camped out, searching for him. But this morning, the neighborhood had been as dead as ever. Like the fool he was, he thought McCormick hadn’t been alerted. Nobody knew a thing.

  Obviously not.

  He gritted his teeth, debating whether to call his former partner. Last night, he worked through a cover story that might save him from a court-martial. But…McCormick would demand that he come in and report immediately. Then what? Even if they bought Greg’s story, they’d expect him to return to active duty.

  He needed time to find Carrie.

  “Something tells me you don’t want to call in,” Jamansky said. “In fact, it occurred to me that you should have just asked for my phone and called in yourself yesterday. Your buddies in the Special Patrols Unit would have more information on Carrie than I do. Yet you choose to deal with me instead. Why?” He paused, waiting for an answer that Greg refused to give. “It makes me wonder if your commanding officers aren’t…fully aware of your mission right now—at least not entirely. Am I right?”

  Greg’s nostrils flared. “Where is Carrie?”

  “Call first,” Jamansky countered.

  Greg took a slow, deep, composing breath. Then he lifted two fingers high in the air.

  The signal.

  A single shot rang out. Asphalt and gravel puffed up a few feet from Jamansky’s feet.

  Jamansky jumped back with a shout, hands flying into the air.

  Unfortunately, Jamansky wasn’t the only one startled. The dogs leapt up, barking and snapping at Greg again. The one on the left looked particularly hungry. Greg cursed them and Richard who should have shot them long ago. Commander McCormick’s unit had used signals on the training grounds to alert one another. Greg had given Richard and Terrell three for today. One finger: show the guns. Two fingers: give a warning shot. Three fingers: shoot Jamansky. He shouldn’t have had to give a fourth: shoot anything else that threatened Greg’s life. That should have been a given.

  Richard!

  When Greg figured out the beasts wouldn’t attack him without an actual command, he shifted his focus back to Jamansky.

  “You’ve got exactly five seconds to tell me where Carrie is,” Greg said. “Five…four…”

  “Rockford!” Jamansky growled, hands still high. “Carrie’s in the women’s camp at Rockford.”

  Rockford, Illinois.

  Ashlee had mentioned that one as a possibility. If Greg remembered right, the city was twenty-five miles northwest of them. Far, but he could make it by morning. With citizenship, Richard had even agreed to go with him to be spokesman. If they could just see Carrie, see where she was being held, Greg could figure out what to do from there. He might even be able to find a way to bribe the guards and sneak in some medicine.

  Keeping his voice even, he said, “And her siblings?”

  “Still working on it,” Jamansky said. “As you know, the government doesn’t always keep great records.”

  Greg didn’t know, but he nodded. “I’m out on assignment for the next day or two. Leave any information you find posted on that doorway of that house.” He pointed to Richard’s home. “I’ll expect to see somethin’ when I return. For now, you’re dismissed. And you better call off the dogs before I have them shot.”

  Jamansky looked ready to strangle something, but he whistled loudly. His dogs turned and trotted back to him. He let them into the back seat and shut the car door.

  Before he got in, he said, “I can get Carrie out, you know. I can have her released. Can you?”

  Greg blinked. What?

  Jamansky smiled darkly. “Didn’t think so. Tell you what, Pierce. You want Carrie released, and I need a favor. So, let’s strike a bargain.”

  Greg stiffened, sensing a trap.

  Without waiting, Jamansky continued. “I need you to testify against Oliver Simmons. He stands trial in two weeks for several offenses, including aiding and harboring fugitives, embezzling government funds, and working the black market—plus whatever else I can dig up on him before then. I need you to rip him to shreds and show what a lying, conniving traitor he is. That’s my price. You agree, and I’ll get Carrie out.”

  Greg couldn’t mask the shoc
k that shot through him. Not just the demand, but the payment.

  Carrie free.

  He saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Richard stood in plain view in that upper window, waving his arms vigorously. The conversation had carried easily in the empty neighborhood.

  Testifying against Oliver.

  Richard was desperately telling Greg no.

  “Can you finish whatever so-called mission you’re on by then, because you’d need to appear in public,” Jamansky went on. “In fact, to pull this off, you’ll need to be all dressed up in a shiny federal uniform, special operative status and all.”

  “What about her siblings?” Greg said evenly. “You’d have to release them as well.”

  A pause before Jamansky nodded. “Done.”

  “And her house?”

  Jamansky’s eyes narrowed. “What about it?”

  “I’d expect a full restoration of her ownership,” Greg said, “and along with it, her citizenship.”

  “Wow, aren’t you greedy. That will be more difficult. The feds are claiming Simmons bought her house with illegal funds.”

  That clarified a few things. If Oliver had been embezzling money, supposedly, then anything Oliver had purchased with that money—including homes—would have been confiscated. Without a place to live, Carrie should have moved to a municipality and begged for mercy and refuge from the government, but she hadn’t. Hence, citizenship revoked.

  “Well, Chief,” Greg said darkly, “you’ve got plenty of experience bendin’ the law. I’m sure you’ll figure somethin’ out.”

  Jamansky chuckled. “You’ve found yourself in quite the predicament, haven’t you? Totally and completely dependent on someone you totally and completely despise. So, do we have a deal or not?”

  Out of his peripheral vision, Greg saw Richard giving the clear Don’t even think about it! signal.

  Greg took a few slow, measured breaths, counting the cost. Oliver in exchange for Carrie and her siblings. Oliver didn’t deserve to be sacrificed like that, not after all he’d done. Then again, Greg knew the guy well enough to know what Oliver would want him to do if situations were reversed. If Greg was in prison and Oliver stood there instead, bargaining for the Ashworths, Greg knew what Oliver would want him to say.