Killjoy (Buchanan-Renard #3)

Killjoy (Buchanan-Renard #3) Page 46

“Yes, it’s fine.”

He smiled because she sounded so disheartened. “Not as nice as Tyler’s cabin?”

“It’s fine,” she repeated.

Noah had just gotten out of the car when his cell phone rang. John Paul walked ahead to the office, but Avery stayed with Noah. She stretched her arms and legs, stiff from the long ride.

Noah, his head down, walked away, obviously so that the conversation would be private. She saw his expression, knew something was wrong, and anxiously waited.

The conversation lasted a long time. John Paul came back with two keys, took one look at Avery, and said, “What’s wrong?”

“Something,” she said, leaning into his side.

Noah ended the call and walked back to the car. His gaze was on Avery. “Your aunt and the judge are fine.”

“What happened?” John Paul asked.

“There was a delivery; some tanks to be installed behind the physical therapy wing.”

“Ah, hell,” John Paul whispered. He already knew what was coming. “They blew, didn’t they?”

Noah nodded. “The fire took out most of the wing.”

“How did Monk get past security?” Avery asked.

“He didn’t,” Noah said. “The delivery man was killed as he was unloading them. Monk got to those tanks before they were set.”

“How many down?” John Paul asked.

“Two dead. An agent named Gorman was injured, but he’s gonna make it. That’s all I know.”

“How the hell did this happen?” John Paul demanded.

“I’ll tell you how it happened. Monk was there on the hospital grounds all that time watching and waiting. He had to have known they couldn’t move the judge so soon after her surgery. When the agents put those decoys in the car and drove off, he probably spotted something and knew the women weren’t Carrie and the judge.”

Noah led the way to their rooms. They were at the far end of the units and had a connecting door between them.

Their room was surprisingly clean. There was a double bed with a floral bedspread, two chairs by the window facing the gravel lot, with a small table and lamp in between. There wasn’t a closet. On the far wall was a rack with hangers and built-in shelves next to it.

The second Noah stepped into their room, Avery asked, “Carrie and the judge weren’t injured? You’re telling me everything?”

“Yes,” he said. “Your aunt had just wheeled the judge into the bathroom when it happened. The walls caved in on them and protected them from being incinerated.”

Avery felt sick to her stomach. Noah’s phone rang again, and he walked into his room. She waited until his back was turned and then went to John Paul, put her arms around his waist, and held him tight.

He could feel her trembling. “This nightmare will be over soon,” he promised. Then, when she didn’t answer, he asked, “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yes.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I can’t think . . . I need to be able . . .”

He kissed her brow. “You need a porch swing, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“With lilacs,” he added.

She smiled because he remembered her happy place.

“I can’t give you lilacs, and I can’t drum up a porch swing for you, sugar, but water . . . I can give you lots of that.”

Twenty minutes later she and John Paul walked hand in hand along the beach. Both of them had changed into shorts and had left their shoes on the steps where Noah sat.

Dark clouds were moving in, obscuring the sun. The beach was virtually deserted, and when Avery sat down and assumed the lotus position, John Paul didn’t intrude. He walked back to the steps and sat down next to Noah.

“What the hell is she doing?” Noah asked when Avery hadn’t moved for several minutes.

“Thinking,” he answered.

“Okay.”

When the sun was dropping, taking the light of the day, John Paul got up and went to Avery. Her eyes were closed. He squatted down in front of her and waited, knew she sensed he was there.

A moment passed before she acknowledged him. She opened her eyes and looked into his. A single tear slid down her cheek. She took a deep cleansing breath.

“I need to make a call.”

Chapter 36

MONK WAS READY TO MAKE HIS MOVE.

There was a “no vacancy” sign in the window of the manager’s office, and nailed to the door was another sign. “Closed until further notice.”

Monk knew the targets were inside. He had already canvassed the area, knew it like the back of his hand. Three cars were parked behind the motel. He was certain two of them belonged to federal agents assigned to protect Avery. The third vehicle was Renard’s.

Monk drove Jilly past the motel so she could see where it was going to happen, and she could barely contain her excitement when she saw the light shimmering along the edge of the tightly drawn drapes in the unit Monk had pointed out to her.

“She’s in there,” she whispered, her excitement brimming in her voice.

Monk pulled into the parking lot up the street from Milt’s Motel. The lot did double duty for patrons of the old Spanish-style movie theater, complete with bell tower, and the spillover from the Church of the Risen. He parked the car so that it faced the street, then handed Jilly his binoculars and took a drink of his iced tea.

“You’re now officially on a stakeout.”

She giggled. “This is wonderful.”

Her excitement thrilled him. “You’re having a good time, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” she gushed. “It’s better than I could ever have imagined. Much better.”

A car pulled into the parking lot, and she quickly lowered the binoculars. “Are you sure we’re safe here?”

“Of course we are. I’ll always make it safe for you.”

They shared a smile, and then Jilly lifted the binoculars again. She could just see the light framing the window, and she was trying to imagine what was happening inside the room.

Another car pulled in and parked three rows behind them. There was a revival going on inside the church, and it was also dollar night at the movie theater. The lot was nearly full now.

Jilly offered him the binoculars, but he didn’t need to look. He had already spent one full night and day doing reconnaissance. It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do. Normally, he would have spent at least two weeks following his subject, learning his routine, but this wasn’t a normal situation. Time was running out, and Jilly was too impatient to wait much longer. Like a child, she wanted instant gratification.

“How many policemen are inside with them?” she asked.

“Agents,” he corrected. “Not policemen. There are four.”

“And you’ll get them all?”

“Yes.”

They were sitting ducks. His for the taking.

The night before, Monk had watched Renard sneak out the back door, get into his car, and drive away. Monk hadn’t had a clear shot at him, but he wouldn’t have taken it even if he had because he didn’t want his primary targets moved once again. He had something special planned for them. Pity, they wouldn’t know what hit them.

Renard had returned to the motel thirty minutes later carrying four big pizzas and a plastic bag Monk guessed was filled with beer or soft drinks.

He was disgusted with Renard’s carelessness. He was certain the man didn’t have any idea he was being observed. Smug complacency. That’s what it was. He was disappointed in Renard. He’d expected better from his adversary and had made the mistake of believing that Renard was a professional. An equal. He realized now how foolish that hope had been. No one could ever equal or measure up to his standards. Jilly had been right all along. He was a legend.

“I think it might be a good idea to do it tonight,” Jilly said.

“You’re eager.”

“Yes.”

“Tomorrow,” he promised.

“I don’t want to wait too much longer.”

“I know.”

“I wonder if Carrie is feeling safe again. Can you imagine how claustrophobic she and Avery must be feeling now? Being cooped up in that flea-infested room night and day? They must be going crazy.”

“I’ve deliberately waited,” he explained, “so that the agents would be bored and . . . lethargic. Yes, that’s the word. Lethargic.”

“Hour upon hour of sitting in that tiny room, waiting and worrying. They haven’t let them out at all, have they?”

“Not while I was watching.”

“I’m glad she didn’t die in that hospital,” she said. “This will be better because I’ll get to watch.”

Monk nodded. “Carrie demanded to come to Florida.”

“She wants to die with Avery.”

“She doesn’t know she’s going to die tomorrow,” he said. “She thinks she’s going to sit in that courtroom with Avery when the trial starts.”

Jilly picked up the binoculars once again. Smiling, she said, “Third time’s a charm.”

Monk suppressed a yawn. He was exhausted, but he didn’t dare complain. Jilly thought he was invincible, superhuman, and he was determined to maintain his knight-in-shining-armor image.

He knew he was taking risks he never would have considered before, but it was difficult to be cautious with Jilly constantly pushing him to his limits. She believed he could do anything, made him believe in himself.

Every once in a while a nagging doubt would surface in his mind. He had never walked away from a contract before. His word meant everything. If he wasn’t reliable, his future would be in jeopardy, his reputation in tatters. The thought didn’t repulse him, though. He had more than enough money to keep Jilly in the style she deserved. Maybe he could let this one go and walk away.

“You know, darling, we don’t need the money,” he said hesitantly.

Jilly knew where he was leading. “Do you know what I think?”

“What?”

“When we’re finished here, let’s sneak away to Mexico and get married. The trial will go for at least a week. Dale isn’t going anywhere. Shall we?”

She knew how much he wanted a wedding. His fatigue vanished, and he was suddenly smiling in anticipation. “Yes, yes,” he said. He was embarrassed because he’d sounded so eager, but he added, “I know a perfect place . . . you’ll love it, I promise.”

“As long as I’m marrying you, nothing else matters.”

She put her hand on his thigh, leaned across the console, and kissed him. Her hand moved upward to fondle him intimately.

He became aroused quickly. Satisfied with his reaction, she pulled away. “Why not put them out of their misery tonight?” she asked again, pouting now.

It took several seconds for Monk to understand what she was asking. He cleared his head and said, “You’ll see it all tomorrow. Daylight’s better. Besides, I have a few alterations to make, a few details before I’ll be ready. You want it to be perfect, don’t you, love?”

“Yes, of course. But why is daylight better?”

“No one expects to be hit with the sun shining, and in the past I’ve always tried to go in and get out during the night. Those agents believe they know my pattern.”

“You think they’ve studied you?”

“Yes. When it’s dark, their guard will be up.”

She sighed then. “All right, I’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Remember, you promised I could watch. You won’t change your mind, will you?”

“No, I won’t,” he assured her. “You’ll be safe, but in a wonderful spot where you can see everything. And I have a surprise for you. I was going to wait until tomorrow, but . . .”

“Tell me now,” she pleaded. “Please.”

“All right. I know how disappointed you were when you saw the house in Colorado blow. But this time will be different. I’m going to let you push the button.”

She laughed with delight. “Are you going to dazzle me?”

He nodded. “Oh, yes. I’m a legend, remember? I’m going to dazzle everyone.”

Chapter 37

AFTER MONK DROVE JILLY BACK TO THEIR HOTEL ON THE opposite side of Walden Point, he got back into the car and drove to a residential area a mile away from Milt’s Motel.

He jogged a mile back to his hiding place and quietly climbed the stairs. He still had to put the finishing touches on the wiring. The job took much longer than he had anticipated, no doubt because he was weary, but when he was finally finished, he was content with his handiwork. Nothing was going to go wrong this time.

It was after three in the morning by the time he got ready for bed. Careful not to disturb Jilly, he eased down on the bed and sat next to her, watching her sleep. Oh, how he loved her. She was so beautiful, so exquisite . . . so perfect. He lay beside her thinking once again that he was the luckiest man in the world. He fell asleep with his arms around her, the scent of her perfume surrounding him, and dreamed of their honeymoon.

Fairy tales could come true. He and Jilly would live happily ever after.

Jilly dressed with care the following morning. She was going to church, after all, and so she wore a white skirt, white eyelet blouse, and strappy high-heel sandals. While she brushed her hair and curled it, Monk put their luggage in the car.

“Don’t forget my tape,” she reminded him.

“I would never forget that,” he assured her, though, in fact, he had forgotten. She would have been beside herself if she’d lost it. She was so obsessed with what she called the evidence, that she insisted on always carrying it with her. A peculiarity he put up with just as she put up with his odd little traits. That’s what a solid relationship was all about, wasn’t it? Give and take.

He removed the tape from the VCR, slipped it into the carrying case, and put it on the bed next to her straw purse.

She was primping in front of the mirror. He watched her put on her red lipstick and smiled because he knew she only wore that color to please him. She’d told him so.

Jilly put the lipstick in her purse with the tape, picked up her straw hat with the white ribbon, and then walked into the center of the room. Whirling around in a circle, she asked, “Do I look ready for church?”

Her face flushed with excitement. “You look beautiful,” he whispered. “You always look beautiful.”

She went to him, adjusted the knot in his tie just like an adoring wife would, and said, “You look wonderful in a suit. You should wear them more often.”