Chapter Seventeen
Chloe was not cut out to be a soldier. Jayla had managed to find a nearby shooting range for her to practice, but she’d cringed just holding the weapon, and closed her eyes every time she pressed the trigger, no matter how many times both Erik and Jayla reminded her to keep her eyes on the target.
Because of that, they’d decided to arm her with a taser, a can of pepper spray, and a knife instead.
Jayla had given her the blade, remarking that while it was a close-contact weapon, so not ideal, it had less of a learning curve, and was easier to conceal.
Chloe had to admit, when they’d practiced, she felt a lot more comfortable with it than she had handling a gun.
She got a little better with the self-defense lessons, too, but they only had three days to prepare before Danny’s graveside service, and while she could move through the maneuvers proficiently, like a choreographed dance, she was squeamish about inflicting pain, even though Erik had told her several times not to hold back, that he could take it.
“You’ll feel differently when it’s Savoy,” Jayla had assured her when Chloe voiced her misgivings. And maybe she would. Maybe, when the threat was real, some instinctual part of her would rise to the challenge. But honestly, she hoped she’d never have to find out.
Her stomach churned as she looked herself over in the full-length mirror.
Her brown hair was pulled into a simple bun at her nape.
The knee-length, three-quarter sleeve black dress with a boat neck was unadorned – even the zipper in back was black – and the severe color washed her out, calling for a full face of makeup, but Chloe hadn’t bothered.
Adding a simple string of pearls to her neck with trembling fingers, she stepped into the low-heeled black pumps, grabbed the wide-brimmed black hat, and placed it on her head before leaving the bedroom.
She stepped out into the living room just in time to overhear Jayla saying, “He won’t make a move today. He’ll be watching, I’m sure of that, but he’ll wait until he can get her alone. Ambush her.”
Erik spotted Chloe and stood. “How are you holding up?” He had paired a black sweater with a pair of dark jeans and his black combat boots.
It was simple, casual, but the way that sweater fit so perfectly across his strong shoulders…
He looked good. Really good, and she wished they were going out for that coffee date, or anywhere other than a funeral.
She crossed her arms over her midsection, hoping to calm the riot of nerves playing havoc with her stomach. “I’m okay. Nervous, but okay.”
“We’ll be close by the entire time. You won’t be alone.”
She knew that. They’d gone over the plan last night. Both Erik and Jayla would be keeping watch, and if her singing drew Jackson closer like they hoped, they’d deal with him – discreetly, of course. No one was looking to cause a scene at Danny’s service.
Jayla stood. With her dark hair in a sleek chignon and a black, silky-looking blouse tucked into belted black slacks, she was a bit dressier than Erik, but Chloe noted the sensible, flat black shoes she was wearing with the outfit.
If speed and maneuverability were required, she wouldn’t be hindered by heels.
They were both armed, their guns holstered at the small of their backs, and they threw jackets on to conceal them, with Jayla donning a leather jacket, while Erik pulled on a black wool peacoat.
“You’ve got this,” Jayla said as she handed Chloe the black clutch that contained her sheathed knife, as well as the taser and can of pepper spray. “By the numbers. Just like we talked about.”
Chloe nodded and took a few deep breaths. She could do this. Grabbing her dark sunglasses, she put them on. “I’m ready.”
Erik had known that Daniel Drayton came from a large family, but he’d underestimated the number of extended family, friends, past lovers, and colleagues the man had, all of them come to pay their respects.
Black suits, hats, dark sunglasses, it made picking Savoy out of the crowd by his appearance more difficult, if he was here.
Erik had memorized his scent that he’d left behind in Chloe’s dressing room – he should have been able to recognize Savoy regardless of any disguise he might have worn – but the weather was acting against him.
It was sunny and unseasonably hot, with little to no breeze, and with so many people, the amalgam of scents was overwhelming.
Colognes and perfumes, laundry soap, dry cleaning solution, moth balls, and tobacco, competed with the scents of sweat and body odor.
Erik was sweating too, even in this shady spot toward the back of the cemetery where the Drayton family plots were located.
He would have liked to have shed his jacket, but he didn’t want to risk it.
His face had already drawn too much attention.
Too many stares, with the facial expressions ranging from sympathetic bewilderment to curled-lip disgust. The last thing he needed to do was cause a panic if people saw the monster was armed.
The cemetery was also busier than he or Jayla had thought it would be.
With it being Saturday, there were many people visiting loved ones' graves throughout the grounds. Nearby, there was a gray-haired, bearded gentleman with a slightly stooped back holding flowers over a gravestone topped with a cherub. Just beyond him was a woman with a baby stroller who held the hand of a little girl who was pulling at her mother, trying to get her to move, and by the look on the little girl’s face, she was about two seconds away from a full-blown tantrum.
Erik turned his attention back to Chloe.
She’d stunned him for a moment there when she’d stepped out of her bedroom, dressed for the service.
She looked beautiful. He almost told her as much, but bit back the comment since he wasn’t sure if it was appropriate considering the circumstances for which she’d dressed up.
But honestly, he thought she looked stunning in her baggy tops and leggings, too.
She was standing with a group from the opera house, flanked by Lattimer Wilkes and John Madison, with Mitch from the sets department at her back.
Her head was lowered as the officiant led them in prayer, the wide brim of her hat keeping him from seeing her face, but her hand was clenched tightly over her clutch, her knuckles white with how hard she was squeezing it.
She could do this. She was stronger than she knew.
The service continued with several people stepping forward to speak about their relationship with Drayton. Some were heartwarming, others were comical stories that brought forth some quiet laughter, and a few who tried to speak couldn’t finish, choking up on their tears and needing to step away.
When Chloe stepped forward, Erik braced himself, his senses honing in. This was it. If Savoy acted as expected, this was when he’d give himself away.
Chloe raised her chin. The first note of “Ave Maria” emerged uncharacteristically wobbly, but she quickly regained control, and the power of her voice spread through the clearing.
Erik’s breath caught, and tears prickled behind his eyes as the emotion in every heart-wrenching note washed over him.
He had to force himself to turn away, remember why he was here.
John Madison stepped up beside Chloe, his baritone joining in, creating a magnificent harmony that had chills racing up and down his spine.
Everyone was entranced with tears flowing freely down the faces of the congregation.
Even the old man and the mother at the nearby graves had turned to listen. But there was no sign of Jackson Savoy.
“I’m going into the trees,” Erik quietly told Jayla over comms, trying to bite back his frustration. They’d cleared this area before the service, but Erik wanted a better look at things.
“Copy that.”
These were some old trees, tall with wide trunks.
Checking first to make sure Savoy hadn’t slipped past them and was hiding behind one of them, he then returned to one he’d spotted with a sturdy branch at a height perfect for climbing.
Erik approached it, planning to get a bird’s-eye view of the cemetery, only to catch an unexpected scent as he drew near.
It was somewhat faded, would have been easy to miss if Erik wasn’t right on top of it, but it was definitely Savoy’s scent. He’d been here, touched this tree.
Tipping his head back, he searched the branches, squinting through the sunlight that pierced through the gaps between the leaves. No sign of his prey, but he did catch a glint of reflected light.
“I may have something,” he told Jayla. “Checking it now.”
Before she’d acknowledged the communication, Erik began to quickly and quietly climb, his nose picking up more and more of Savoy’s scent the higher he went.
The man had climbed this tree. Probably last night, and he’d sweated from the exertion, leaving a strong scent trail behind on these upper branches.
Reaching the limb where he’d seen the glint, and keeping low so the lens never caught him, he eyed the camera perched in the tree, aimed straight at the burial site.
He didn’t touch it. If Savoy was watching live, a blackout would give them away.
He recognized the model: top-shelf civilian hardware, the kind private firms bought when they couldn’t get government issue.
Everything it saw was streamed off-site to a remote server.
Black Bay had specialists who could chase that trail, but neither he nor Jayla had the gear for digital forensics.
Climbing back down, he told Jayla what he discovered.
“So he may not even be here,” she replied with frustration edging her voice.
Erik shared that frustration. “It doesn’t fit, though. He’d want to be close. This is personal. He’d want to see her.”
“Agreed.”
They’d continue to wait. Watch. But once Chloe was home and secure… “I’ll come back here later. Stake out this area. He’ll likely return for the camera.”
When the service concluded, many people stopped to speak with Chloe, and she’d donned her Prima Donna mask of professionalism to get through it.
Though if asked, she wouldn’t be able to say who any of them were, what they looked like, or exactly what they’d said to her.
But when Danny’s mom had approached her, hugged her with tears streaming down her face, Chloe’s facade shattered, and she lost it.
This poor woman was burying one of her sons.
Danny had been murdered, and his only crime was that he’d befriended Chloe.
She didn’t deserve this woman’s warm embrace, or the invitation to their home Danny’s father had extended.
If it weren’t for Jayla's supportive arm looped through hers, Chloe wasn’t sure she would have been able to pull herself together enough to even walk.
She was sick with guilt and grief. Everything felt wrong, distorted, and an icy chill, despite the heat of the sun beating down on her, prickled under her skin and made her want to shiver.
“Almost there,” Jayla quietly told her as she ushered Chloe along.
Through the turmoil of her thoughts, Chloe suddenly realized someone was missing. “Where’s Erik?” She needed him. When he held her, he always somehow made her feel better. He chased the nightmares away…
“He’s close; keeping watch.”
For Jackson, Chloe silently finished. Honestly, if Jackson had shown his face right then, Chloe didn’t know if she had enough in her to fight him off.
She was so tired. Her face crumpled as hot tears leaked from her eyes.
“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. ” It was all just too much.
Jayla stopped, and pulled Chloe around to face her, gripping both of Chloe’s upper arms almost like she might give her a shake – and maybe, Chloe admitted to herself, she needed one – before the other woman leaned in and said, “We will get him, Chloe. You just need to hang in there.”
She wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe in them, but her confidence was badly shaken. Still, she nodded, pretending to agree.
“Come on.” Jayla began leading her over the paved walkway again. “Did you want to go to the Drayton’s house for the reception?”
Chloe shook her head. “I just want to go home.”
“Understood.”
They carried on in silence until they reached the line of parked cars, when Jayla suddenly hissed, “That son of a bitch.” Then started saying something Chloe couldn’t catch – likely speaking to Erik over the comms they were both wearing.
Blinking the haze from her eyes, things fell back into focus, and Chloe spotted what Jayla had. A single red rose was perched on the windshield of Chloe’s car.
“I’ll get it,” Jayla volunteered.
A rush of heated anger chased away the chill and lent her a needed burst of strength. “No.” With determined strides, Chloe marched to her car.
Jayla, who’d kept pace with her, quietly reminded, “He’s probably watching.”
“Good.”
Grabbing the rose, she held it up and turned a circle, inviting Jackson’s eyes on her before she dropped the flower on the pavement and crushed it underneath her shoe. She looked around, her face set mulishly as she waited, practically daring Jackson to show himself.
He didn’t, but Chloe didn’t deflate. She kept her chin up, her shoulders squared as she told Jayla, “Let’s go home.”