Chapter 11 The Wake #2
“I would like that more than anything.” He stood and helped her to her feet. “In case you haven’t figured it out, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
He sounded so much like the man she’d initially fallen for that she felt like weeping. “I underestimated you, James. And for that, it’s my turn to apologize.” She made a show of gulping down what little was left of her tea.
“No need,” he returned tenderly. “While you get dressed, I’ll get the vehicle ready.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but she didn’t waste time asking questions.
Using the wall for support, she hobbled to the bedroom she’d been staying in.
Before the effects of the tea took over, she dropped the quilt on the floor and hurried into the adjoining bathroom.
She made herself throw up, then shoved her head under the faucet and drank until her belly was full.
With any luck, it would dilute what remained of the sleeping agent in her system.
The suitcase James had brought along for her lay open on the dresser in the bedroom. She hadn’t bothered unpacking. It creeped her out that he knew so much about her dimensions, right down to her sock size.
She rummaged through the suitcase and found a black cocktail dress.
It was an off-the-shoulder, body-hugging sheath that wasn’t something she normally would’ve worn to a funeral, but her options were limited.
It was the black dress, a gauzy formal gown, or a red sundress that was way too short for her taste. No, thank you!
She prayed while she was dressing. “God, give me strength.” She needed the strength to stand and walk; and if the opportunity presented itself, she would need the strength to run. Since she was supposed to be dead, anyone who recognized her would know something was terribly wrong.
Halle could feel her blood pumping through her sluggish limbs. It was amazing how much a single drop of hope could do for a person. She did a few toe touches and arm stretches to work out the kinks. It was time to put her game face on.
She applied minimal makeup, knowing it was best for her eyes to remain red-rimmed and puffy. Her grief seemed to be the one thing that triggered James. She intended to keep pushing that button with him.
When she returned to the living room, he was waiting for her. He sucked in a breath, gazing in unchecked admiration at her outfit. “Wow!”
His reaction to the cocktail dress was weird. Very weird. He acted as if they were going on a date instead of attending a wake for eleven people whose deaths he’d had a hand in.
He crooked an arm at her.
She took it, allowing him to escort her to a dark navy SUV awaiting them outside. As he opened the back passenger door for her, she glimpsed a few flecks of silver around the doorframe. Had it been recently repainted? If so, no one would be looking for him in a navy SUV. Not good.
As she climbed inside the vehicle, her heart sank to a new low at the sight of the steel-enforced vinyl cord draped across her seat.
“I’m sorry, Halle, but I can’t afford to take any chances with you today.” He looped the cord around her wrist and tightened it to just shy of painful. “I lost you once. I’m not going to lose you again.”
It was difficult to watch the man she’d once been engaged to spiraling into utter lunacy.
“You won’t,” she murmured, faking a yawn as she clasped her seatbelt.
The cord around her wrist would make escaping him that much harder.
It was tethered to one of the silver bars holding up his headrest. She gazed out in growing despair through the tinted windows, knowing she could see out, but no one could see in.
James took his place behind the wheel and reached for something on the seat beside him that turned out to be a black Stetson.
He put it on and pulled the brim lower, making him look like nearly every other guy in Heart Lake.
He was essentially hiding in plain sight—a bold move, but disappointingly effective.
She bit viciously down on her lip, hating how cleverly he’d planned their jaunt into town. Each detail was designed to keep her captive.
He started the vehicle, and they rolled forward.
“Thank you for doing this,” she murmured, trying to sound humbly grateful and sleepy at the same time.
He met her gaze through the rear-view mirror. “Like I said, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
Except let me go.
She tipped her head against the seat cushion and faced the window. Something in the reflection caught her eye. Something she hadn’t expected to see. It was the outline of suitcases resting on the floorboard behind her—proof that James had lied to her yet again.
They weren’t attending the wake after all. It was simply the line he’d fed her to trick her into getting dressed and walking to the SUV without a fight. They were leaving town.
The darkness of defeat washed over her, threatening to pull her under. One thing she wasn’t feeling, though, was drowsy. A faint ray of hope fingered its way through the darkness, reminding her how crucial it was to keep playing her role.
“What did you put in my tea?” she groaned, even though she wasn’t the least bit tired.
“Something to help you sleep,” he returned smoothly. “You’ve been through a lot. You need your rest.”
She pretended to fight sleep and then pretended to lose the battle. As her eyelids fluttered closed against her cheeks, she saw him adopt a self-satisfied look.
What a loser! For the life of her, she didn’t remember what she’d ever seen in him.
Owen squinted through the scope on his rifle.
He and Rex were lying in the prone position on top of the Lonestar Security building.
It gave them an unfettered view of the highway leading from the rural south side of town to the downtown area.
Up here, they could see every vehicle, every passenger, and every pedestrian.
If James truly cared about Halle, he’d find a way to get her to the wake in Town Square. Or so Owen hoped. The sheriff and his team had put a lot of work into publicizing the fake event at Town Square, keeping the tragedy front and center in the local news.
It was their plan to draw James out of hiding. It was a long shot, but it was all they had. If it didn’t work, Owen might never see his wife again. It had to work!
If James came anywhere near the wake with Halle, they would apprehend him.
Between the Heart Lake Police Department and Lonestar Security, over fifty uniformed police officers and private security experts were embedded in the perimeter around Town Square.
It was something Rock was calling their “cowboy brand of justice.” Though the Feds had given them the green light to run the event, they were mostly eyerolling it.
Owen hunkered over his rifle, knowing there was no guarantee today’s efforts would bring the hoped-for outcome.
It still felt good to be doing something again.
For the first time since Halle’s disappearance, he tasted hope.
He was sick and tired of relying solely on the Feds, especially after finding out about the dirty agent in their midst. The guy was now in custody—not talking like the rest of the detainees.
“You alright?” Rex nudged Owen with his shoulder.
“Not even close, but I will be when I get my wife back.” He and Rex had agreed to speak in terms of “when,” not “if” today. Ryder and Cooper were in Jen’s capable hands in the storm shelter many stories below them. Knowing they were safe was helping Owen stay focused on the mission.
Rex nodded in understanding. “I wouldn’t have much respect for you if you felt any differently than you do.”
“No matter how this turns out,” Owen informed him quietly, “I appreciate everything you’re doing to help my family.
Everything you’ve been doing. When this is over, don’t be surprised if Lonestar Security slaps a job offer on the table for you.
” Rex’s experience as both a flight instructor and a contract investigator for the FBI amounted to a powerful resume.
“Just keep the faith, bro.” Rex remained behind his scope, eyeing the occupants of a white plumbing truck.
The wake would begin in roughly thirty minutes, and they’d been at their post for more than an hour.
Two more vehicles approached.
“I’ve got the rusty pickup truck,” Rex muttered.
“I’ve got the SUV,” Owen shot back.
A split-second later, Rex relaxed and lifted his head. “Nope.”
Owen squinted through his scope at the approaching navy vehicle.
The sun beat down on it, creating a glare on the windshield.
The sunlight also picked up a few flecks of something shiny in the paint job.
They were concentrated around the windows and doors.
Was it silver paint? It was impossible to tell from this far away.
“Might have something,” he announced excitedly. Though he couldn’t see the driver beneath the brim of his Stetson, he was roughly the same size and build as James House. It wasn’t conclusive, but it was enough to keep Owen looking through his scope.
“Wrong color,” Rex noted.
“True, but…” There was no time for Owen to explain, since every second mattered. He picked up his radio and sent an SOS to Luke and Rock. “Navy SUV heading your way. No front license plate. Silver paint flecks around the windows and doors. I think it’s them!”
If he was wrong, he’d gladly take the slap on the wrist for creating an unnecessary traffic stop. It wasn’t as if he had much left to lose.
However, he was suddenly so sure he wasn’t wrong that he sprang to his feet and sprinted for the stairs.
The ROAD CLOSED - DETOUR sign his friends were currently shoving onto the road was tucked inside a curve that James House wouldn’t see coming, and Owen didn’t want to miss a single second of the coming showdown.
“Carry on,” he called over his shoulder to Rex.
“Carrying on,” Rex called back cheerfully.