Her face had turned gray, on its way to that pale blue that always meant the end. She shifted her eyes. “I’m dying?”
“Yes,” Jonathan said. In his book, there weren’t many worse sins than telling a lie to someone who’s terminal. “And you’re dying with a lot of sins on your soul. You know that means Hell, don’t you?”
“Scorpion!” Gail hissed.
Jonathan shot her a glare that said, Shut up.
“It’s true, Colleen. You know that, don’t you?”
“Soldiers go to Heaven,” she said. Her voice had a fraction of the strength it used to. “That’s what Brother Michael said.”
“Brother Michael’s not here,” Jonathan said. “You’ve been left alone to take the bullets.”
“He had to leave us,” Colleen said. “The snake.”
Jonathan looked to Gail. “Did she say snake?”
“What snake?” Gail asked. She stroked the girl’s hair. “Stay with us, Colleen. What snake?”
“Head off the… sna…” Her features went slack and her eyes dilated.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Friend or enemy, Jonathan had never grown used to watching people die. He found the vulnerability of those last seconds between this world and the next to be… unnerving. But it was done.
He stood. “She’s gone,” he said.
“Who are you people?” Sam yelled.
“We’re friends,” Jonathan said. “Although I understand that you probably don’t think so.”
“And what am I supposed to do with them?” She spread her arms at the carnage.
“We’ll take care of the bodies,” Jonathan said.
“Oh, no, you won’t,” Sam said.
“What, you want to keep them?” Boxers said.
“No, I don’t want to keep them. But when the police come-”
“The police are a bad idea,” Jonathan said.
“Says the home invader.”
“Says the home invader,” Jilly repeated.
Something about the absurdity of it all made Jonathan laugh.
“This is funny to you?” Sam accused.
“ No.”
“You’re still laughing.”
Gail said, “Not at you, Mrs. Shockley, and certainly not at these poor people. It’s just been a long night.”
Jonathan showed his palms as a gesture of peace. “Mrs. Shockley, I apologize for all of this. My big friend is right that you’re much better off for us being here when Sheriff Neen came around. He’d have killed you and your daughter because he’d have had to kill Colleen on the assumption that she’d shared secrets. But I don’t expect you to understand or believe any of that.”
“What the hell is going on?” Sam insisted.
“I’m afraid I can’t make you understand that, either,” Jonathan said. “I don’t know that I understand it all that well myself.”
“Who are you people?”
“Even more complicated, I’m afraid.” To Boxers, he said, “Let’s put the bodies into the trunk of the sheriff’s car.”
Clearly relieved to have something to do other than talking, Boxers went right to work. He effortlessly manhandled Neen’s corpse into a textbook fireman’s carry and headed out the door.
Jonathan reached out to touch Sam’s shoulder, but withdrew his hand when she flinched. “Would you like to sit down?”
“No. I want you out of my house.” As the shock drained from her features, fear invaded them.
“I understand,” Jonathan said. “In five minutes, we will be. But there are a couple of logistical issues I need to discuss with you.”
“I don’t want-”
“Hush, Mrs. Shockley.” Jonathan shot the command sharply, and it worked. “You need to listen to this. First of all, the quicker you wipe up the blood from the floor, the easier it will come up. In this case, it’s good you don’t have carpets.”
Sam’s jaw dropped. “Oh, my God. You’re so cold.”
“Whatever. It’s your call, one way or the other. And bleach will not only get out whatever stain is left, it will also kill any blood-borne pathogens.”
“Not to mention wipe away any DNA evidence,” she said. It was a gotcha.
Jonathan shrugged it away. “Actually, that’s not always true, but think what you want. Here’s the rest: As soon as we’re gone, you’re going to want to call the police. I understand that. Remember, though, that Kendig Neen was the police. Something to think about. That, and the fact that he and another person were killed here. You’re not going to like to hear this, but we’re not traceable, so any efforts to catch us or punish us will be futile. Plus, we’re the good guys.”
Sam hugged Jilly more tightly and took a step backward. Apparently, the “good guys” comment frightened her.
“If you do want to roll the dice that way do yourself a favor and call the FBI, not the local police. When they tell you that murders are a local matter, you tell them that the local policeman was one of the killers.”
“Except you’re taking his body away.”
Jonathan gave a commiserating wince. “Yes.” He stepped aside as Boxers reentered the front door to head to the kitchen for Colleen’s body. “Again, I’m sorry about all of this.”
Sam looked to Gail for something, and got more or less the same look of apology.
As Boxers passed behind again, this time with Colleen’s remains over his shoulder, Jonathan and Gail followed him out to the car. Both bodies fit easily into the trunk of the unmarked Ford.
The last they saw of Sam Shockley, she was standing in the doorway, with Jilly in her arms. The little girl waved good-bye.
CHAPTER THIRTY – FIVE
Jonathan had never given a lot of thought to the convenience of abandoned drift mines, but as they tied up loose ends in West Virginia, it became apparent. They left the bodies in the trunk of the Ford, dismantled the anti-trespasser mechanisms at the mouth of the mine shaft, and then Boxers drove the vehicle itself into the narrow passage as far as he could go and still be able to get out of the vehicle. When that was done, they replaced the wooden block and barricades and erased their tire tracks. By 8:45, they were back in the Agusta chopper and airborne again, on their way back to civilization.
Jonathan didn’t like what he saw in Gail’s expression. Not that long ago, she had sworn an oath to defend the Constitution against all enemies foreign and domestic, and to bear true faith and allegiance to the same. She had built a life around the rule of law, and now she was a player in an operation that broke every rule to achieve the intended goal. She sat quietly in her seat in the opulent executive helicopter, speaking to no one, visibly aging with every passing minute.
He left her with her thoughts, convinced that he could say nothing that would make anything any better.
When they were on the ground, a little before noon, and before climbing into the custom-designed Hummer that would take them back to Fisherman’s Cove, Jonathan pulled her aside. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked.
She wouldn’t make eye contact. “What choice do I have?”
Interesting point. “When we get back to the Cove, you should sit down with Father Dom,” he said.
“I’m not Catholic.”
“When he’s got his psychologist hat on, he can be anything you need him to be. Mostly, he’s a good listener.” Jonathan knew whereof he spoke, having spent more hours than he could count in his counsel.
“I don’t need a shrink to tell me right from wrong,” she said. With that, she headed to the truck.
After a scalding shower and a shave, Jonathan felt mostly human again. He missed the long-gone days when occasional ten-minute naps could keep him functioning for days on end. Today he’d been up for a mere thirty-six hours and he felt like milled concrete.
One floor below, Boxers had chosen to crash in the guest room rather than drive back to the District, something he rarely did. He was always welcome, of course, but Jonathan did begrudge the loss in water pressure caused by competing showers.
Jonathan padded naked from his bathroom to his bed, where JoeDog had already staked her claim by lying crosswise on her back, as if to extort a tummy rub in exchange for surrendering her territory. On a different day, it would have worked. Today, though, he wolf-whistled and she scrambled to her feet, tail swinging, waiting to play. Or not.