Killjoy (35 page)

Chapter 34

J
ILLY HAD JUST HAD A FULL BODY MASSAGE AND WAS NOW
wrapped in a four-hundred-count Egyptian cotton sheet with the logo of Utopia stamped on the hem. She lay on her back, her eyes closed, while the female technician applied an avocado facial mask. The stupid woman wouldn’t stop talking. She gave Jilly one compliment after another about her flawless complexion and her oh, so perfect body.

Jilly never tired of hearing compliments from men, but she didn’t care what women thought about her, and just when she was about to tell the technician to shut up, she finished applying the goo and said, “We’ll just let this set for fifteen minutes.”

She was finally alone. Loosening the sheet, she let the cool air caress her body. It felt good to relax, especially after she’d become so distraught over the news that Carrie and the judge had survived the explosion. Fortunately, Monk hadn’t been in the bungalow when that horrid news came on the television, so she didn’t have to try to behave. He had never seen her throw a full-blown tantrum, and she didn’t know how he would react. She certainly didn’t want to scare him, not yet anyway, because he was so terribly useful. There was still too much to be done, and it was imperative that Monk stay the loyal lapdog.

Carrie used to call her fits rages, but Jilly had learned control over the years. Not much, but some, she qualified. Admittedly, if one of the housekeeping staff had happened to walk into the bungalow just after Jilly had heard the news about Carrie, Jilly probably would have attacked her. And enjoyed every moment of it.

Jilly had never killed a person. She’d let her men take care of her problems. Wasn’t that what they were for? She had often wondered, though, what it would feel like to kill someone with a gun or maybe even with her bare hands. If someone caused her to be unhappy, then watching her die did seem fitting. Why should she deny herself that joy and satisfaction? She realized now that Monk had been right all along. He had wanted to kill each woman separately and make the deaths look like accidents, but Jilly had pleaded and cajoled until he’d given in and done things her way. How could such a brilliant plan not work? It was so perfect, so simple, so . . . brilliant.

Carrie. Carrie was the reason the plan hadn’t worked. That selfish bitch had ruined everything.

Jilly threw herself on the bed and pounded her fists into the pillows. She stopped suddenly. She heard the newscaster on CNN with the lead-in for the footage that was coming on the screen again. She bolted upright, impatiently wiping the tears from her eyes, and stared at the screen. The film was focusing on the judge, but Jilly wasn’t interested in her, no matter how famous she was supposed to be. She waited, whimpering, until finally the camera turned to her bitch of a sister as she was being carried on a stretcher into the ambulance. Men, paramedics, no doubt, but still men, were actually fawning over her. How dare they give her any attention? How dare they? Jilly was more enraged by the men’s behavior than by the fact that her sister was still very much alive.

The camera zoomed in on Carrie’s face. Jilly thought she saw her smiling, and that proved to be the last straw. Screaming obscenities, she picked up a lamp and hurled it into the wall.

Carrie was ruining everything.

It took an hour for her to calm down. Then she called the spa and had a masseur come to the bungalow. The massage helped, and she was now able to think about a new plan. This one wouldn’t be as complicated, she decided.

Why hadn’t she given in to the urge and killed Carrie with her scissors? Because that wouldn’t have been as much fun. After everything her sister had done to her, she deserved to suffer a long while before she died. It wasn’t fair. Men worrying about her, taking care of her. Couldn’t they see how ugly she was?

Jilly could feel herself getting worked up again. The mask on her face was beginning to itch. Her cell phone rang just as the technician came back into the suite.

“Go away,” she said. “I’ll wash this off. Shut the door behind you.”

Jilly knocked over a stack of towels as she reached for the phone. “Yes?”

“I thought you would want to hear some good news. I found out where Carrie and the judge are.”

She immediately perked up. “You know? Where, darling? Was I right?” she asked before he could answer. “Are they going to Sheldon Beach? Is that where they’re going to hide Carrie until the trial?”

“Your sister isn’t going to Florida because she isn’t going to testify at the trial.”

Jilly laughed with delight. “She’s afraid.”

“Yes.”

The mask on her face cracked when she smiled. “That’s wonderful news. Now tell me everything.”

She listened carefully, and when he was finished, she told him not to worry, that she would come up with a new, even better plan. “But something less complicated this time,” she promised. Then in a voice that sounded like a dove cooing, she said, “I miss you, darling.”

“I’ll see you soon?”

“Of course.”

“I love you.”

She smiled again. “Yes. I know.”

She disconnected the call, dropped her towel, and went into the bathroom to shower. Wrapping herself in a terry-cloth robe, she called housekeeping to come and clean up the mess she’d made. The cost of the damage would be put on her credit card.

Two hours later, when Monk walked into the room, she was ready for him. She wore a black chiffon dress and high heels, but had decided against undergarments. When she stood in the doorway with the light spilling out from the bedroom, she knew he could see through the filmy material. She’d checked to make sure.

Monk was weary by the time he got there, but as soon as he saw the love of his life, he was rejuvenated. He knew the trouble she’d gone to just to please him. She had instinctively known he would need to make love to her and had prepared the bedroom. There were candles burning to set the mood, and she was wearing his favorite dress. It was identical to the red one she used to have, until he’d torn it. As he strode toward her, he told himself not to ruin this one.

He watched her mouth. She was slowly rubbing her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. She knew he liked that too.

Their lovemaking was wild and crude. Like animals in heat, they tore at each other. Her dress fell to the floor in tatters. And when he was finally satisfied, he rolled off her, threw his arm back, and closed his eyes.

She had pleased him, and now it was his turn to please her. “I think we should wait a couple of days,” Jilly said, “and then, after you’re rested, you can take care of Carrie and the judge. They’ll be all settled in and feeling safe by then. Don’t you agree? It shouldn’t be too difficult for you to get in and do what needs to be done.”

“I need at least two weeks to organize and plan.”

“Did I just make you happy, Monk?”

“You know you did, darling.”

“Then make me happy. I could wait maybe a week, but I’d go crazy if I had to wait any longer. Carrie was smiling when they lifted her into the ambulance. I didn’t like seeing her smile.”

“I understand.”

“She told the police about me. Now they know I’m alive, and they’ll be looking for me. You were right,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have insisted on the letters, and I shouldn’t have let her see me. But I thought she would die in the explosion, and I wanted her to know . . .”

“Don’t cry, Jilly,” he said as he took her in his arms. “It’s going to be all right.”

“Yes,” she said, cuddling up against him. “As soon as she’s dead, everything will be all right. She’s made me so unhappy for such a long time. Promise me you’ll kill her soon.”

“I promise,” he answered. “You know I’ll do anything for you.”

She smiled against his neck. Her hands moved skillfully over his body. “Then we’ll go to Sheldon Beach.”

Monk’s desperation to please her was making him frantic, but at the same time he felt he could do anything and succeed because of her faith in him. She often told him how brilliant she thought he was and how he underestimated and undervalued himself. He realized now that she was right. He could pull it off. He could get in and out without being noticed, no matter how many FBI agents were there.

He could even become invisible.

Chapter 35

T
HE DRIVE TO
F
LORIDA TOOK THREE DAYS.
T
HEY COULD
HAVE
pushed it, but because they had the time, they took the more scenic back roads through Georgia.

They spent two nights in clean but no-frills motels tucked away in small towns. The first night they each had their own room. Avery hadn’t invited John Paul to share her bed, and he hadn’t asked or assumed. She was desperately trying to distance herself from him because she believed it would make their final parting less painful, but it wasn’t working. She was only fooling herself. She loved him and didn’t know what to do about it. She didn’t sleep at all that first night, tossed and turned until she made herself dizzy, and by morning, her disposition was as charming as a rhino’s. The second night, John Paul didn’t ask. He simply paid for two rooms while Noah talked to one of his superiors on his cell phone.

John Paul followed Avery into her room and dropped his bag next to hers. She didn’t argue but said, “We’re just going to sleep. No sex.”

Smiling, he stripped out of his clothes and headed for the shower. “Did I ask?” he said before shutting the door in her face.

The air conditioner in the window was cranked up, the room was freezing, and around two in the morning she woke up in his arms, feeling toasty warm and amorous. He was simply irresistible. They made love, and it was even better than the last time because now each knew what the other liked, and within minutes they were perfectly attuned to each other’s needs.

The wall separating their room from Noah’s was paper thin. She tried to be quiet, but when she felt those first tremors of exquisite pleasure coursing through her body, the feeling was so intense she bit his shoulder to keep the shout of ecstasy from escaping.

It was so wonderful that when she awakened at six, she rolled into his arms and, as Margo would say, she jumped his bones again.

He went back to sleep. She went into the bathroom, and after she’d showered, she stood in front of the mirror looking at her face. Her cheeks were red from rubbing against his whiskers, and her lips were swollen from his kisses.

Sighing, she shook her head and whispered, “Hi. My name’s Avery, and I’m a sexaholic.”

She couldn’t blame anyone but herself. Vowing to leave him the hell alone, she picked up her toothbrush and tried not to think about him as she got ready for the day.

John Paul was in a much better mood as they started out. He was almost pleasant to Noah. Not quite, but almost. Avery thought the two men acted like adversaries in some kind of contest, but it didn’t take her long to realize they both got a kick out of trading insults.

After they had stopped for lunch, she got into the backseat, put on her baseball cap to block the sun from her eyes, and decided to take a nap.

The men lowered their voices so they wouldn’t disturb her. Noah knew about Jilly. He’d read Avery’s file, and he’d come prepared.

They speculated about how she had connected with Monk and what their relationship might be. Noah, of course, knew all about Skarrett too, and thought that maybe he was calling all the shots. John Paul disagreed, pointing out that, once Monk had taken the contract, he did things his way.

One topic led to another. “Are you going to lose your job because you’re helping us?” John Paul asked. “The FBI’s looking for Avery.”

“I don’t work for the FBI. I’m what you might call an independent contractor.”

John Paul was exasperated. “No, you work for the FBI. What the hell do you think that badge is for?”

“Better parking spots. It’s the only reason I carry it.”

“Get serious.”

“Do you ever miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“The action.”

“Hell, no.”

“You still living in the swamp?”

“I live in Bowen.”

“In the swamp.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“You think she’ll want to live there?”

He pretended not to understand. “Who?”

He had forgotten how blunt Noah could be. “The woman you’re sleeping with. The woman you can’t take your eyes off even when you’re driving. You’ve been looking in the rearview mirror every ten seconds since you got behind the wheel. You’re gonna get us killed if you don’t pay attention to the road.”

John Paul was determined not to discuss Avery. “How far is it to that little town you picked out on the map for us to stay tonight? What was it called? Walden Point?”

“Now me, I don’t think I’m ever gonna settle down. Too many fish in the sea,” Noah said.

“And Walden Point is what? Twenty or thirty miles from Sheldon Beach?”

“I didn’t think you’d ever find a woman who would put up with you, but I guess I was wrong.”

John Paul couldn’t pretend he wasn’t listening any longer. “You don’t even know me, Noah.”

“Sure I do. I know all about you.”

“Did you read my file?” He didn’t give him time to respond but muttered, “Doesn’t ‘classified’ mean anything anymore?”

“Guess not,” Noah drawled. He hadn’t had access to John Paul’s file, but he had talked to Theo about his reclusive brother-in-law. Since it obviously upset John Paul to think that his file had been opened, Noah didn’t tell him the truth. He liked annoying him.

“So, do you think she’ll like living in Bowen?”

They had just come full circle. John Paul gripped the steering wheel as he tried to control his temper.

“We won’t need to stop for gas.”

Noah grinned. “Man, you’ve got it bad. Your face is getting red.”

John Paul thought about punching him. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh? You two don’t have any kind of arrangement?”

He wasn’t about to discuss his and Avery’s relationship.

“No.”

“No future plans?”

He glared at Noah. “No,” he snapped. Turning back to the road, he said, “Are you ready to talk about something else?”

“Sure,” he said. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Stop hitting on Avery.”

He was sorry the second the words were out of his mouth. Noah laughed. “Why would I want to stop doing that? You just said—”

“I know what the hell I said.”

“And she is a beautiful woman.”

Maybe he could reach over real quick, open Noah’s door, and shove him out. That ought to shut him up.

“She’s sexy as hell too.”

“Yeah, well, you leave her the hell alone. Now, how far is it to Walden Point?”

“Beats me.” Noah tilted the seat back, adjusted his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes.

“You’re the damn navigator. Look at the map.”

“Sure thing.”

He was sound asleep seconds later.

The rest of the afternoon was blissfully quiet. They arrived in Walden Point around six that evening. The sleepy little town was exactly thirty-two miles to the bridge leading into Sheldon Beach.

If Avery had been in Walden Point as a child, she didn’t remember it. The streets were lined with palm trees, the grass was brown from salt water and sun, and the houses along the side streets were ill kept and weather-beaten. It was a dismal, forgotten-looking place until they reached the older, more populated section of town. The houses along those avenues had been spruced up. The grass was lush and green, and flowers brimmed over terra-cotta pots on freshly painted porches. It was apparent there was a renovation in progress.

There were several pretty bed-and-breakfast homes along the main street to the waterfront, but Noah wasn’t interested in stopping there. He found a motel about twelve blocks away from the beach and told John Paul to pull into the lot.

Avery thought Noah was joking. Milt’s Flamingo Motel had flaming pink concrete block walls and a red-tile roof in desperate need of repair. There were hand-painted flamingos in different colors on each lime green door. The U-shaped structure with twelve units had a gravel parking lot. Whoever had chosen the color scheme had to have been color-blind.

There weren’t any other cars around. Avery thought Milt must have flown the coop, abandoning the dump.

“Are you sure this is open?”

“I saw a guy watching as we pulled in,” Noah answered. “It’s easy in and out. We park behind, and the car’s out of sight from the street. What do you think?”

Since he was asking John Paul and not her, Avery kept her opinion of their lodgings to herself. After having passed the lovely bed-and-breakfast a couple of blocks away with the charming white picket fence and rockers on the wraparound porch, she thought Noah’s choice was awful. She waited for John Paul to protest.

“I like it,” he said, dashing her hopes. “It kind of reminds me of my dad’s bar. He’s got a big flamingo on his roof.”

“Yeah, I remember seeing it. I thought it was a pelican. I’ll check us in.”

“There’s a bed-and-breakfast just down the road,” she interjected. “It looked nice and clean. I noticed a vacancy sign in the yard.”

“This is okay, isn’t it?” John Paul asked.

If Noah hadn’t been with them, she would have told him no, it wasn’t okay, but she didn’t want to complain in front of an agent.

“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.”