Collateral Damage (22 page)

“You think something has happened to Thomas, don’t you?” Lauren shifted sharply in her seat to face Jack and tugged on his free hand to break his reverie. “We need to hurry to him.”

She opened the car door.

“No.” He grabbed her arm. “You’re staying here.”

“Like a sitting duck? No, thank you. I’ll take my chances hiding behind some trees while you check on Thomas, so don’t waste your breath arguing now.”

Jack cursed his displeasure, but still grabbed his backpack and exited the car with her. He guided her into the forested terrain. Though the air had a touch of fall to it, the southern sun was still warm enough to bring a sheen of perspiration over her skin, dampening the blue baby-doll T-shirt she’d bought last night and her jeans. The scent of pine, dense woods and lake water filled her nose. Jack stopped the moment they were out of sight of the car.

“If you’re going to go any farther then you do exactly what I say when I say,” he told her. “That doesn’t mean move five feet and take a shower when I tell you to stay in one spot.”

She blinked at him and nearly tripped over a root. “Getting rid of the tear gas—”

“Turned out to be the right logical decision to make in that circumstance,” he interrupted her, his expression grim. “But it could have just as easily been the wrong decision too. It wasn’t following orders and we don’t go a step farther unless I have your word that you will do as I say. I’ve got enough blood on my hands. We clear?” His direct gaze held the ghosts he worked hard to keep at bay.

She swallowed the rising lump of emotion his stark words and expression caused. War never left a man unscathed and she could see that Jack bore scars, deep ones. “Roger that,” she said, repeating her brother’s favorite response. “You have my word, Jack.”

He nodded. “Then let’s go.”

The pace he set through the trees seemed agonizingly slow to her as she wanted to run to Thomas’s house. She didn’t realize it until she saw the surface of green-blue water rippling just ahead that Jack had cut his way down to the lake before heading to Thomas’s house next door.

Reaching the water, Jack crouched behind a cropping of bushes and looked up at the sky. “Damn. I’m afraid this is going to be bad.”

“What?” Lauren joined him and squinted up at the sky, expecting to see the dark clouds of an approaching storm.

He pointed at two large black birds flying in a circle overhead. “I thought I heard buzzards but wasn’t sure.” He opened his backpack and slipped out a pair of binoculars, directing his gaze toward Thomas’s house, which was partially visible from its perch on the wooded hillside.

His body tensed. He had seen something. “What is it?” she whispered.

“Either our friendly neighborhood assassin and his side-kick cop have a set of twins or they’re a step ahead of us. They’re on the back deck of the house looking at a broken rail.” Jack shifted the binoculars. “There’s a body on the ground, but from the looks of him, he’s been dead a while. Let’s go.”

“But—”

“Orders are not discussions. We’ll talk later. Stay low. Stay behind me, and make as little noise as possible.”

She followed Jack like a shadow until they reached the car. Once inside, he took off, going opposite the direction of Thomas’s house. The circling road would eventually take them back to the entrance to the subdivision. He handed her his phone. “Turn it on and call Edward Weiss. See if you can get him on the phone. Then turn it back off.”

“All right, but shouldn’t we call the police? They might be able to catch the killers at Thomas’s house.”

“Those two are likely killers, but they didn’t kill the man on the ground. Not unless they did it a day or two ago and returned to the scene of the crime, which is highly unlikely. The broken rail leads to the thought that he could have fallen, but that’s just too damn suspicious to believe. We can’t call the police until we reach a pay phone. Even if there is a chance they already know who I am, with a dirty cop after us, I’m not giving them anything they can use to track me down.”

Thomas was dead, or at least someone was dead. And it was real. Dear God. Her hand shook as she dialed information and called the Weiss’s home phone. Though Edward’s wife Sandy and she had never really hit it off, Lauren feared for Edward, her and their daughter. A woman answered the phone in sepulcher-like whisper. “Hello.”

“Sandy?” It had been a while and Lauren wasn’t sure if Sandy had answered or not.

“This is her sister, Amy. Can I help you?”

“This is Lauren Collins. I needed to—”

“Lauren. Yes, I remember. Your husband is one of Edward’s closest friends. God, I have some awful news. Edward was murdered last night. He apparently walked in on a burglar and the bastard beat him to death with a golf club. They found him this morning when he didn’t show up for an important closing. Sandy is on her way back from California now.”

“Dear God.” Lauren had to reach deep for her voice. The horrendous pounding of her heart created a deafening roar in her ears.

“I know. I’ll tell Sandy you called and we’ll be in touch with you about funeral arrangements. I’m sure she’ll want Bill and the others to be part of the funeral.”

Lauren wasn’t sure what her strangled reply was, but it must not have been that Bill and Thomas were dead because Amy hung up the phone. Lauren sat there staring at the trees and mail boxes whizzing by. Suddenly the car bumped and she was slung to the right as Jack whipped into the parking lot of a mom and pop bait and tackle store. While she’d sat stunned he’d exited the residential area where Thomas lived and had reached the main road that would lead them to Interstate 85.

Jack took his phone from her numb fingers and latched onto her hand. As hot as his was, hers must have been like ice. He pressed her hand between both of his. “Tell me.”

Lauren sucked in a deep breath, realizing she hadn’t even been able to breathe. Spots wavered before her eyes and she practically reeled in the seat. “Edward was murdered last night. Clubbed to death in his own home. His sister-in-law says it was a burglar, but, Dear God, Jack that’s too coincidental. Who’s next? My children? What would have happened to us if you hadn’t shown up yesterday?” Lauren shuddered hard.

“Come here.” He pulled her across the console and wrapped his arms around her. He held her against his chest, his voice a deep rumble as he spoke. “Don’t let yourself go back and worry over it. I was there, that’s all that matters.” He was warm and solid, so very real and assured as he hugged her closer that her careening world stabilize a little. She inhaled again, drinking in his scent, already finding comfort in its familiarity amid the surreal macabre world surrounding her. “I’m not going to let anything happen to Matt, Mitch, you or Angie, okay? So wipe that worry out of your mind. What we need to focus on is moving forward. We need to call the rest of Bill’s friends. Warn them. Find out what they know, then we need to sit down and try again to figure out what in the hell is going on, okay?”

He brushed his fingers along her cheek and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. His gentle touch and soothing manner were at odds with his rough soldier persona, but she didn’t mention it. She could tell he was totally into her, into comforting her, and easing her fears and it was because he truly cared about her. He wasn’t condemning or judgmental, although she was sure he knew death and danger on a level she couldn’t even imagine. There hadn’t been a lick of sexual anything in his embrace either. He’d reached out human to human to comfort her and she was sorry to say that was something she’d never gotten in her marriage. Why did the man think he sucked at relationships?

Before she could say what was on her mind, he spoke. “Don’t look at me like that, Lauren. I’m no hero.”

She didn’t argue with him at the moment, but did wonder why he was so down on himself, so uncomfortable with the truth. She eased back to her side of the car. “I need to call the others.”

He handed her the phone again. “Tell them that Bill was killed and that both Thomas and Edward have died as well and that you don’t think it coincidence. Tell them to get someplace safe and to let you know where so you can meet them. You need to talk to them about Bill.”

Lauren nodded. She called Ray in Savannah, Georgia, and left a message on his answering machine to contact her immediately. That he might be in danger. The same with Bob in Tampa, Florida. Conrad in South Carolina picked up after the first ring. “Thank God, you answered,” she said. “This is Lauren. Bill’s wife.”

“Yes, I know. I was just about to call you. I am so sorry. The news about Bill from Sao Paulo just reached me, I can’t believe it. Where are you? I’ll come and help.”

“No. Listen, Conrad. Something very wrong and very bad is going on. Edward was murdered in his home last night. They say a burglar. I think Thomas is dead too. A fall, maybe. But I don’t think their deaths were coincidental or accidental either. You need to get someplace safe fast and we need to talk about Bill. I’ll come to you, okay?”

“Thomas? Edward? Dear God. I can’t believe this. You’re really scaring me, Lauren. What in the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we can figure this out together. I’ll be at Lake Hartwell in a little over an hour and a half. Give me your address and please be careful.” She’d added a few minutes for traffic and so they’d have time to call the authorities about Thomas.

“I will.” Conrad then rattled off his address and Lauren wrote it down with the paper and pen Jack produced. “Call me when you get here.” Conrad hung up before she could say anything else.

She ended the call and frowned. The man had sounded more rushed than worried. Shrugging off the thought, she turned to Jack only to find him studying her.

“What did the man say to make you frown?”

“Nothing really. He was shocked at the news, but then didn’t ask many questions. He sounded rushed. Probably was in a hurry to get someplace safe. It won’t take us long to get there. It’s a straight shot up Interstate 85.”

“Good. There’s a pay phone at the front of the store. I’m going to give the cops an anonymous tip about Thomas and we’ll hit the road. You stay here. I don’t want you on the surveillance camera if they’ve got one on.”

“Why?”

“We don’t know exactly what Bill’s involvement in the Lebanon situation was, but his friends are dropping like flies. I’d rather there not be any concrete evidence connecting you to their deaths.”

“For my safety?”

“Yes, and because someone might try and say you had a hand in the murders.”

“That’s insane.”

“I learned a long time ago that when it comes to crap like yesterday and today nothing is impossible.” Jack reached into the back seat. He dug an oversized black windbreaker and a red baseball cap from his backpack. Within sixty seconds he was barely recognizable. The hooded windbreaker shadowed his face and concealed his short hair. Then he’d buckled his jeans about his upper thighs, leaving a hint of blue boxers to show between the jacket hem and the top of his pants. The major slouch he achieved as he stood from the car cut several inches off his height and put him among the notorious ranks of rappers and hip-hop teens worldwide. The way he sauntered to the pay phone should have won the man an Oscar. To the casual eye, he looked exactly in character. Even held a hand to his ear as if listening to a jiving tune as he bounced while dialing the phone. He made a return performance and they were on their way. Lauren didn’t have a clue what she would say to Conrad when they reached Hartwell. Just exactly how did she say her husband was a terrorist, and by the way are you one too?

Conrad danced a little jig as he hung up the phone, making his motor boat rock. Talk about luck. A genuine, juicy, Georgia peach was about to fall into his lap. A five-million-dollar one to boot. Surely by putting her letter with the three he now had, he’d be able to figure out Bill’s code. Edward’s letter really didn’t reveal much. The man hadn’t necessarily died in vain, but the clue hadn’t been all that hot.

There once was a king
.
He died on a throne
.
In his land of Grace, did the whole world mourn.

Damn. He didn’t have any more time to think about it now. He had some major shit to accomplish before Lauren arrived. He’d had all night to think and plan. He had done some planning, really he had, even though he’d relived—several times—every bloody, glorious moment of Edward’s demise. He’d come to the conclusion that the best way to move forward was to kill himself and then go after the other letters and frame either Bob or Ray for the deaths of Edward, Thomas and his own. Having Lauren arrive only sweetened the pot. He’d off himself before she arrived and then kidnap her when she got here. The perfect crime.

He was already on his boat, having calls to his house phone forwarded to his cell. He had to finish rigging the engine to explode and get his scuba equipment ready. After that, he’d wait for the right moment to create the spectacle. His boat would blow to smithereens and a short time later Lauren Collins would disappear forever.

It would go into the cold case annals as being the most unsolvable mystery of the century. His palms grew damp and his dick swelled with anticipation. Oh the things he would do to her. The ways he’d use her. He’d leave no fantasy unfulfilled. And he’d built up quite a few of them watching porn over the years.

The accident with Thomas had truly freed him, let the inner man come out and rule.

“Sex slave,” he whispered, just to hear the words out loud. He shivered with another wave of excitement. No more lonely nights jerking off to computer smut. He’d have the real thing for as long as he wanted it. He’d have five million. He could go anywhere and be anybody. This time he’d turn the tables and take life by the balls instead of it being the other way around as it has always been. He couldn’t wait.

Of course, she’d have that muscle with her, the man with the gun who was keeping her out of the clutches of the shooter at her house. Conrad would just have to prepare a little surprise for him. Something that would leave him Tango Uniform as they phrased it. Good old jargon for tits up or, as his grandpap used to say, dead as a door nail.