The Perfect Murder--A Novel

by Kat Martin

  “He’s right,” Chase agreed. “No exit south of the cabin. They can cross the creek on foot and reach the road on our side, but that’s it.”

  “So we’ve got them bottled up in there,” Bran said.

  That’s one way to look at it, Kenzie thought.

  “Anyone find a decent crossing?” Chase asked. “The way I went in isn’t any good. Too many hazards.”

  “Same to the north,” Reese agreed.

  “I found a route,” Bran said. “Had to clear some of the brush and obstacles, but I left it marked with yellow neon reflective tape. It’ll work as a way to bring Griff out.”

  Kenzie’s heart began to pound. It wouldn’t be long now.

  “What about your sniper’s nest?” Reese asked Bran.

  “Already in place. Tranq gun’s loaded and waiting on-site.” Bran rose from the log. “Let’s fire up the drone and make another pass over the cabin before it’s too dark. We can check things out, make sure everything looks good. There’s a crescent moon tonight, which will help or hurt, depending on how the situation unfolds. As soon as it’s full dark, we go in.”

  * * *

  Griff sat on the edge of the saggy iron bed. The slivers of sunlight that dimly lit the room through cracks in the walls were fading. It was almost dark outside, the evening filled with eerie swamp sounds.

  Fear crawled through him. Time was running out. Tomorrow morning, as soon as the call the men were waiting for came in, they were going to kill him.

  His stomach churned. Any minute they would be bringing something for supper. For once in his life, Griff wasn’t hungry.

  He had to find a way to escape. He couldn’t afford to wait.

  His mind spun with ideas, stuff he’d seen in the movies or read in fantasy novels. But he didn’t have a weapon and he didn’t really think any of the make-believe stuff would work.

  In the end, he decided the best he could do was be ready if an opportunity came along. It worried him that even if he got away, the men might do what they said and come after him and his mom.

  Griff closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He would think about that when the time came.

  In the meantime, he would be ready.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  “Two minutes,” Bran said. “Check your gear one last time, then we move out.”

  Reese was more than ready. Had been for what seemed hours. It was heading toward full dark, the night sounds of the bayou beginning to come alive. A coyote howled. Insects rubbed their wings, setting up an eerie rhythm. A bobcat growled in the underbrush not far away.

  Reese strode toward Kenzie, reached out, and caught her shoulders. “You going to be okay?”

  She managed a passable smile. “I’m terrified, but I’ll be all right.”

  “I know you will.” Leaning down, he kissed her, taking it as deep as time allowed. “You’ve got a radio. You’ll be able to hear what we’re saying. The keys are in the pickup. If anything goes wrong, take the truck and get out of here.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without you and Griff, so don’t waste your breath.” Reese opened his mouth to protest, but Kenzie pressed her fingers over his lips. “Don’t argue. Just kiss me one last time and get going.”

  Reese complied, lingering a few seconds longer than he should have, earning a nudge from Chase.

  “Time to go.”

  “Stay safe,” Kenzie called after them.

  Reese draped a pair of night-vision binoculars around his neck and adjusted the earbud that connected him to the radio he was carrying. Bran headed in one direction, Reese and Chase in another. The plan was for Brandon to use the tranq gun to take out the men guarding the perimeter. Once they were down, Reese and Chase would drag the men’s unconscious bodies out of sight. But it could get dicey.

  Whatever it took, they would do what they had to. The men were kidnappers, hired killers. A child’s life was at stake. They didn’t have a lot of choices.

  Reese followed Chase along the path Bran had scouted and marked with yellow glow-in-the-dark tape. The trail sloped onto the bank of the creek. Reese’s cowboy boots sank ankle-deep in the mud, then a few more steps and he was sloshing through the water, a slowly moving stream about three feet deep. A beaver slid into the lazy current on his right and suddenly a deer bolted on his left, bounding noisily through the low-hanging branches toward safety.

  At the sound, Chase went still in the water ahead of him, waiting, giving the silence a chance to return, followed by the forest sounds that had muffled their movements.

  Something cut through the water between them. Reese tensed as he watched a big-bodied snake swimming toward him, head raised just above the surface. Hard to tell what flavor it was, but a poisonous bite out here could be deadly. Reese silently pulled an eight-inch folding knife out of his pocket and flipped the blade open.

  The snake kept closing but turned away at the last moment and swam on past, missing him by inches. Reese breathed a sigh of relief. He started moving again, quietly slogging his way toward the opposite shore. Taking a moment to dump the water out of his boots, he dragged them back on and caught up with Chase.

  Neither spoke. Chase left the trail and began circling toward the south while Reese headed north. The drone had revealed two doors into the cabin. Chase would go in through the back, Reese the front. Bran would go in through an attic window the drone had spotted, accessible from the roof.

  But first they had to deal with the men patrolling the grounds outside.

  Careful to stay in the shadows, Reese made his way through the heavy foliage to the north. Using the night-vision binoculars, he scanned the area. The rangy guy with the mustache stood not far away near the bank of the creek. On the other side of the clearing, the guy with the stocky build in the ball cap leaned against the Jeep, smoking a cigarette. The big guy with the ponytail was nowhere in sight, likely behind the cabin. Chase would have him spotted.

  The guy with the mustache was farthest from the cabin, probably the easiest target. Bran would take him out first. Reese moved into position behind him, heard his brother’s muted shot echo softly through the bayou, and the man went down.

  Reese hurried toward him. He was still awake but groggy, his eyes slowly closing as he lost consciousness. After hauling him into the bushes out of sight, satisfied he was no longer a threat, Reese headed for the guy smoking in the shadows next to the Jeep.

  A muffled shot sounded from high in the trees. The dart took the stocky man in the side of the neck. A hissing sound came from his throat, the guy pawed at the dart, then slid soundlessly to the ground.

  Reese stepped out of the foliage, grabbed the man’s limp arms, and dragged him out of sight behind the Jeep.

  One to go.

  The radio crackled to life. Reese tensed when Kenzie’s voice came over his earpiece. “Chase’s radio isn’t working right. He hasn’t been able to reach you or Bran. He says the third perimeter guard went inside the cabin.”

  Which, from his position, Bran would have seen. Since he hadn’t communicated the info, his radio wasn’t working, either.

  Fuck. “Roger that. Can you reach Bran?”

  “I think so. Hang on.” Kenzie came back on the radio a few seconds later. “He says it’s time for plan B. He says to tell you he’s heading into position.”

  “Got it. Thanks, baby.”

  Plan B was simple. Everything that could be done at this point had been executed. The third man was out of sight inside. They needed to move in. Bran would be going into the cabin through the attic window. Once he was in position, Chase would breach the back door while Reese went in through the front.

  But they couldn’t move until Bran had located Griff’s whereabouts inside the cabin. And without direct radio contact, everything was going to be more difficult.

  He thumbed the mic and spoke to Kenzie. “Make sure Bran and Chas
e both know you’ll be relaying communications.”

  “Roger that, already done.”

  Reese smiled. The lady was amazing. He started moving into position, getting closer to the front door, careful not to be seen. Chase would be doing the same while Bran roped up to the attic window from a blind spot on the west side of the cabin.

  “Bran’s on the roof,” Kenzie said, relaying his message. “The window wasn’t a problem. He’s going inside.”

  The radio went silent. Time dragged. The porch light went on, giving Reese a jolt, but no one came out. Through the dirty front window, he could see shapes moving around inside the cabin.

  “Griff’s alone in the bedroom,” Kenzie relayed. “Three targets inside. No time to lose. Move into position.”

  Gripping his .45 two-handed, Reese moved closer. He was twenty yards from the front door, slipping through the shadows, closing the distance when he heard Kenzie’s frantic voice through his earpiece.

  “Plan C! Plan C!” No way she knew what it was, and he didn’t have time to explain. Plan C meant A and B had turned into a serious clusterfuck and each man was on his own, his objective to bring Griff out safely at any cost.

  When the front door burst open and Griff bolted out onto the porch, Reese understood. He drew down on the man chasing the boy, but it was too late. A thick arm wrapped around Griff’s neck and hauled him backward against a wide barrel chest. A semiauto pressed against the side of Griff’s head.

  “Get back in the house, you little shit!” It was the big guy with the ponytail.

  Reese stepped out of the shadows, his pistol aimed at the gunman’s head. “Let him go.”

  “Reese!” Griff clawed wildly at the man’s beefy arm.

  “Easy, Griff. Stand down. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Trusting him, the boy stopped fighting. Shots rang out inside the cabin. Reese figured Bran and Chase had taken care of the other two men.

  “Drop the gun or I kill the kid!” the gunman demanded, his arm tightening around Griff’s neck as he dragged him across the porch.

  “There are three of us,” Reese said calmly. “Your friends are either dead or out of commission. You aren’t getting out of here alive unless you let the boy go.”

  The gunman shook his head, his low ponytail sliding back and forth across his broad back. “No way. The kid’s my insurance. He goes with me. When I get to the first gas station, I’ll let him go.”

  “I don’t want to go with him, Reese!”

  Reese held steady, his hands firm around the pistol grip, the barrel aimed at the gunman’s head. “The boy stays here. You let him go and you live. Otherwise, you’re a dead man.”

  Instead, keeping low, using Griff as a shield, the guy forced the boy down the steps, off the raised porch, and began hauling him across the clearing toward the Jeep. Bran and Chase both appeared in the doorway, pistols aimed toward the gunman.

  “Let him go,” Reese called. “You’re outmanned and outgunned. No way you’re getting out of here with the boy.”

  The gunman’s hard mouth slanted up on one side. “You’ve got the men but I’ve got the kid. That gives me leverage. I take the kid with me, he’ll be okay. You try to shoot it out, I’ll kill him.”

  Reese steadied his pistol. He could make the shot—as long as nothing went wrong and he didn’t let his emotions get in the way. “I’m done asking.”

  “Don’t be a fool! You shoot, you’ll hit the kid!”

  “Last chance.” Reese tracked the pair with his weapon, sighting down the barrel.

  He didn’t want to kill the guy. He’d been involved in enough bad stuff in his youth, done everything in his power to leave his past behind. But the gunman had almost reached the Jeep and letting him leave with Griff was not an option. And second by second as the distance increased, the shot was getting tougher.

  “Stay cool, Griff,” Reese calmly instructed, holding the pistol steady. The boy went stock-still, and Reese pulled the trigger. The gunman’s head exploded, and Griff bolted, running full speed toward Reese. Reese caught him hard against him and hung on tight.

  “You’re okay. It’s over. You’re safe.” He smoothed the boy’s reddish hair back from his forehead. “Your mom’s here. She’s waiting for you on the other side of the creek. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Griff looked up at him, tears in his eyes. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

  Reese just nodded, his throat too tight to speak. Pulling the radio out of his pocket, he thumbed the mic. “Griff’s out and we’re all safe.” Kenzie’s soft sob came through the speaker as he handed the radio to her son.

  “Mom?”

  “Griff! Oh, God, Griff, are you okay? They didn’t hurt you?”

  “Reese came to get me. I’m okay.”

  “I’m here waiting for you. I love you, sweetheart.”

  “I love you, too, Mom.”

  Griff handed back the radio as Bran and Chase walked up.

  “You must be Griff,” Chase said. “Nice to meet you. This is Brandon. We’re Reese’s brothers.”

  Griff’s eyes teared. He wiped them with the back of his hand. “Thanks for helping Reese.”

  Bran smiled. “That’s what brothers do.”

  Reese glanced back at the cabin. “What’s the situation inside?”

  Chase’s gaze followed Reese’s. “Location’s secure. Two men wounded. Nothing fatal. Unless you want to bring the police into this, we can call for an ambulance from the road.”

  “You think DeMarco will come after us?”

  “I doubt it. For him, this was always just business. His plan didn’t work. He’ll reassess the situation and come at it from a different angle. Arthur Haines is the guy with the problem now.”

  And his son, Daniel. Reese didn’t like to think what DeMarco might do to Daniel Haines and his family to get his casinos approved.

  He looked at Griff. “We need to get across the creek. You up for a swim?”

  Griff glanced around. “Where are the other two guys? Are they dead?”

  “No. Bran shot them with tranquilizer darts. We need to be gone before they wake up.”

  “Don’t we have to call the police?”

  “Not right now. Come on, we can talk about this later. Let’s go.” Setting a hand on Griff’s shoulder, he blocked the boy’s view of the carnage as he urged him toward the crossing Brandon had marked. The scant sliver of moon had slipped behind the clouds, making the crossing even more difficult. Bran led the way. When they reached the bank of the stream, Reese turned to Griff, who was eyeing the thick, swampy foliage with obvious apprehension.

  “Hop on my back and I’ll carry you across.”

  Griff didn’t move. It was clear the boy was torn. He was a strong kid. He didn’t want to go into the swamp, but he wanted to prove himself to Reese.

  “I’m dressed for this,” Reese added, giving him an excuse. “You’re barefoot and in your pajamas.” He turned his back. “Get on and let’s go.”

  Griff finally hopped on and Reese pulled the kid’s legs around his waist. “Hang on tight.” Griff clung to his neck as Reese followed Bran into the murky water. Chase followed, keeping watch behind them.

  They were entering the deepest part of the stream when something heavy splashed down from the bank into the creek. Bran’s flashlight shined through the mossy, low-hanging branches into a pair of eyes just above the surface of the water moving rapidly toward them.

  “Gator!” Bran shouted, pulling his knife as he stepped forward to deal with the threat. Reese increased his pace, moving past Bran into the lead, making his way toward the muddy bank on the opposite side of stream. Loud splashing and cursing split the quiet. Then dead silence.

  “Wow,” Griff said, straining to see into the darkness. “Your brother killed that big gator with a knife!”

 
Reese couldn’t stop a laugh. “Yeah, Bran can be pretty impressive at times.”

  Griff sighed. “I wish I had a brother.”

  Reese’s thoughts sidetracked to Kenzie. He wondered what it would be like to have a child, the family he had wanted but thought he would never have. It was the wrong time to consider it. Kenzie was still the prime suspect in her ex-husband’s murder. And what would she say when she found out he had killed a man?

  The clouds parted as he sloshed up onshore to find her waiting at the top of the muddy bank. Griff slipped off his back and raced toward her.

  “Mom! Mom!”

  Kenzie caught him in her arms, lifted him off the ground, and just hung on. Reese knew she was fighting not to cry.

  “I was so scared,” Griff said. His feet back on the ground, he pulled away to look up at her. “I told myself you and Reese would come, and you did.” For an instant, his golden-brown eyes filled with tears. “Reese even brought his brothers.” He sniffed and steadied himself. “Bran killed an alligator with his knife, Mom. You should have seen it. You think someday I could have a brother?”

  For an instant, Kenzie’s eyes locked with Reese’s. She looked back down at her son. “I don’t know. Maybe someday.”

  But Reese could hear the uncertainty in her voice. After everything he had told her about himself, maybe she didn’t want to be with him. Tonight he had killed a man. He should have felt remorse but all he felt was relief that Griff was safe and a sense that justice had been served.

  But Griff had seen it and that had to be traumatic. As they headed back to the truck, Reese noticed the boy’s buoyant mood had faded, sliding into something darker as the events of the night began to sink in. He’d seen a man’s brains blown out right in front of him. He’d need counseling at the very least.

  Reese paused to dump the water out of his worn cowboy boots and pull them back on. They collected the gear in their makeshift camp and headed for the vehicles.

  Seated in the pickup between Kenzie and Reese, Griff fell asleep before they had reached the highway, his head in his mother’s lap. As soon as they were in cell range, Kenzie phoned her grandmother. Chase would be using his disposable to call 9-1-1 and anonymously report the shooting.