Chapter Seven
After a mostly restless sleep, which thankfully didn’t come with another nightmare, Raquelle gave up after a while.
She got up early, put her hair in a high ponytail, and, to get her weekend off to a good start, went for a run along the wooded trail on the property she once shared with Landon.
Wearing brown knit pocket joggers, a pink crop tank, and white running shoes, she made her way through the loblolly pine and southern red oaks, remembering when she used to jog with Landon.
Each pushed the other, giving them both a good workout. Then it all ended.
Honestly, she missed those days. But had conditioned herself to accept that some things weren’t meant to be.
Or was it possible to turn back the clock—or even reset it to a new place in time—where it concerned romance?
She thought about Landon’s mother finding love again later in life. Anything was possible, right?
Maybe not everything, Raquelle told herself pessimistically. Maybe things with Landon were best left in the past and thinking otherwise could be dangerous.
She thought about Eddie and the danger he faced— assuming he was still out there somewhere alive.
And not put out of commission. Or unable to ever be found.
Isn’t that what people associated with organized crime did to those they wanted rid of: made sure the body would never show up and lead back to them through DNA, prints, or other clues?
I’ll never give up on him as long as there’s still hope that he can get through the troubles that led to his partnering up with Landon and becoming his CI, Raquelle thought as she started to jog back to the house.
She couldn’t help but wonder if Eddie might have turned to his ex-girlfriend, Penelope Dunlap, for a place to hide out.
Though their relationship had ended badly, Raquelle believed that her brother still carried a torch for her—and maybe Penelope for him as well.
If so, it could be refuge that his pursuers might never be privy to.
With Eddie still officially missing and Landon seemingly no closer to getting a handle on where he could be—and with whom—Raquelle thought it incumbent upon her to pay Penelope a visit.
Worth a try, she told herself, returning home. She took a shower, dressed, and had a bowl of cereal for breakfast and a cup of coffee before heading out.
* * *
HE WATCHED THROUGH the woods, using high-powered binoculars as he surveyed the house that Raquelle Jernigan lived in.
She’d just finished jogging, and he had stayed a safe distance away but kept her in sight.
The fact that she was Eddie Jernigan’s only living relative in the vicinity and someone whom Eddie might turn to for his very survival was of interest.
Of less concern at the moment was whether or not Raquelle could actually finger him as the man who’d planted a bomb inside Eddie’s boat and detonated it.
He realized that his employer would not take kindly to the art professor identifying him, threatening his employer’s lucrative art empire.
Never mind the personal stakes for continuing to ply his trade uninterrupted by a long stint in prison.
As it was, he was confident that Eddie’s sister could no more identify and hand him over to the authorities than she could any other male who happened to be at the marina that day.
But Eddie Jernigan was another matter entirely—had her brother managed to survive another brush with death.
He’d gunned down someone who fit Eddie’s description in the woods near the snitch’s apartment complex.
But before he could verify that the job had been completed, voices in the area forced him to abandon the mission out of an abundance of caution and self-preservation.
Now he could only wait and see.
He continued watching the house through the binoculars, noting that Raquelle was leaving and getting in her car. No need to follow her. If the circumstances warranted taking her out, he knew right where to find her.
But for now, his only real concern was to make sure that Eddie Jernigan could no longer pass info to the FBI—or stay alive to talk about it with his sister or anyone else.
* * *
RAQUELLE ARRIVED AT the Loganfield Hills Condominiums complex on Elkeer Road in Chetlin Bay, a suburb of Columbia and a short drive from Dryer Woods.
She’d accompanied Eddie there a couple of times when he and Penelope were still going strong.
At the time, Raquelle thought she seemed like a good match for her brother.
Guess I was no better able to judge their romance surviving than my own, she told herself, reflecting on a marriage that somehow managed to get away from her and Landon.
Raquelle had texted Penelope as a heads-up that she wanted to drop by, while also serving as a message to Eddie to stay put, if she’d allowed him to take shelter there with an X on his back.
As Penelope made no attempt to dissuade her, Raquelle could only hope that, at the very least, Eddie had contacted his ex-girlfriend to let her know he was all right.
Which is all I need to hold on to for now, Raquelle told herself. And to pass the information along to Landon.
She knocked on the door of the condo, wondering if Eddie would actually be the one standing there when it opened.
Instead, it was Penelope. In her early thirties, she was attractive and slender, with hazel eyes and long brown hair in multiple layers. An archaeologist, Penelope was a member of the Wassamasaw Tribe of Varnertown Indians with headquarters in Berkeley County, South Carolina.
“Hi,” she said in a muted tone.
“Hi.” Raquelle gave her a soft smile and was invited inside.
She took a glance around the small and neat setting with an open concept on vinyl plank flooring, with lots of windows and midcentury modern furniture.
The hope that Eddie would emerge from a bedroom crossed her mind, but it didn’t happen.
“Nice to see you again, Penelope,” she told her, regretting that they had lost touch since the breakup with Eddie.
“You too.” Penelope smiled. “Do you want to sit down?”
They sat in caramel faux-leather armchairs, and Raquelle got right to the point of the visit. “Eddie’s gone missing…after his boat exploded—”
Penelope tucked her hair behind an ear and said, “I heard about that…and couldn’t believe it.”
“I was wondering if he might have come here as a safe haven.” Raquelle spoke straightforwardly, again scanning the place. “I know you two weren’t seeing each other, but—”
“Eddie’s not here,” the other woman said succinctly. “I wish he had come to me for help—not that I could’ve done much. Other than strongly suggest he go to the authorities.” She sucked in a deep breath. “But Eddie did call me about a week ago…”
“Really?” Raquelle regarded her. “What did he say?”
“That he had gotten into some trouble—without elaborating. When I asked him what kind of trouble, all Eddie would say was that it involved crooks in the art world and that he was trying to do the right thing by stopping them.” She paused.
“I wasn’t sure exactly what he had in mind and never got the chance to ask, as we were disconnected.
I’ve been unable to reach him since then. ”
Raquelle told her, figuring she had a right to know and wouldn’t likely tell anyone else, “Eddie was working with the FBI.”
“Seriously?” Penelope uttered.
“Yes, he was supplying them—actually, my ex-husband, who’s a special agent for their Art Crime Team—with info regarding the theft and forgery of Native American art,” she revealed, sighing.
“It may have cost Eddie his life. We don’t know, as he’s either gone underground…
or they killed him and buried his body somewhere yet to be discovered. ”
Penelope recoiled at the thought, sharing Raquelle’s distress at the prospect, and said in earnest, “I’m so sorry about all of this.
Eddie and I may have been a bad fit—or not—but no one should have to go through what he’s gotten himself into.
Let’s hope he’s somewhere safe from harm while he tries to figure things out. ”
“Right,” she concurred. “Once we have solid answers, I’ll let you know.”
“Please do,” Penelope insisted.
Raquelle rose and said, “If, by chance, Eddie contacts you again—”
“I’ll pass that onto you,” she promised, walking her to the door.
Raquelle gave her a hug, knowing Penelope still cared for Eddie and wanted whatever was in his best interests—starting with surviving his current tribulation.
Back in her car, Raquelle pondered both Eddie’s disappearance and Landon’s efforts to locate him and complete the investigation—while wondering if it was possible that she and Landon could resolve their differences and find a way forward.
* * *
LANDON WAS STANDING with Katie in the conference room, studying the big-screen surveillance video from around Knotter Marina.
It appeared to show Eddie making a hasty retreat from his Crest Savannah 250 SLSC shortly before it exploded.
If nothing else, this told Landon that Eddie had successfully escaped the inferno.
But to where? Another place to hide in plain sight, before being taken out?
Looking at the screen, Katie remarked, “The man wearing a hood over his head seemed to just miss Eddie—and presumably assumed he was still on the boat, when the unsub apparently used a remote-controlled bomb trigger to detonate the IED.”
“Yeah, lucky Eddie,” Landon spoke with deadpan humor at his brush with being blown to bits.
Still, he knew full well that Raquelle’s brother had been anything but lucky.
Eddie had lost his prized pontoon, for one.
Had blown working undercover as an FBI CHS.
Had upended the relative calm in Raquelle’s world as a theater professor.
And now Eddie may well have been tracked down and the hit carried out on his life.
“Maybe not so much,” Landon entertained ill at ease.