CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

 

 

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS after the attack on the church compound, Jean sat eating breakfast at a wonderful diner just outside of Spokane, Washington. The place had a 1950s feel and smelled of rich coffee and cinnamon rolls.

It had taken her about twenty minutes to get off the ridgeline above the church compound and to where she had stashed a backpack full of clothes.

Hiding in deep brush to make sure no one flying overhead would see her, she had changed clothes, taken her rifle apart, and had everything in the pack. Twenty minutes after stopping she was headed up a trail and over yet another ridgeline away from the compound.

Two hours later she reached a Cadillac she had parked there and headed back down the hill and into Sacramento.

From there, without stopping, she had gotten on I-5 and headed north toward Oregon, setting the cruise control and letting the air-conditioning keep her comfortable in the warming morning.

She had stopped for a late breakfast in Redding and a late lunch in Eugene.

Dinner had been in a fast-food place south of Olympia.

Now, after driving most of the night, stopping only to rest and catch a few naps and drop parts of her rifle in a river, she was having a wonderful and leisurely breakfast while watching the news on a television behind the diner’s counter.

It had been just over twenty-four hours.

It seemed that the story about deaths at a cult church in California led most of the news programs and there were worries it was terrorist in nature.

But saner voices on the news were saying it was revenge, clearly, for Jack Kelsall creating a false church and duping so many millions of people.

The police had no suspects at all. And no one mentioned that all the church money had vanished.

After she finished her breakfast, Jean turned away from the news and just sat thinking while she sipped a cup of coffee. Mary Jo would be in Vegas by now and Jean wished she was there with her.

And Susan had headed south to LA and then east toward Phoenix. No telling where she would be, but she had seemed excited about going in that direction for some reason.

Jean had to admit that she had really loved working with Mary Jo and Susan on this target. And having the three of them made the end of this job so much better than it would have been.

Susan had even offered to split her final payment with them, since before they had joined she hadn’t even been able to find Kelsall, let alone expose and kill him.

But both Jean and Mary Jo had turned her down. Neither of them needed the money in the slightest. Money was just how they kept score, how a life was valued in their business.

And with the fake Carson money and the church money, Jean figured they were each about sixty million richer anyway. She doubted she would ever get around to counting it.

Now, if the final part of the plan held, Jean would meet Mary Jo in their condo in New York at some point in the next week.

Susan had no plans. She had said she would see them when she saw them.

Jean understood that. Until falling in love with Mary Jo, Jean could have never imagined working with another assassin, let alone looking forward to going back to be with one.

But at the same time, it wouldn’t surprise Jean in the slightest if Mary Jo never came back. She had been independent for as long, if not longer than Jean had. Vanishing now would be an easy way to just call the relationship off.

But Jean knew, without a doubt, she would be in that condo in New York hoping that Mary Jo showed up. And she would live there for a time, even if Mary Jo decided to not show up.

Jean wouldn’t blame Mary Jo if she didn’t return.

But Jean would really, really miss her.