Janey
I can’t believe how quiet it is here.
I’ve been sitting out here with Ginger snoozing by my side for the past hour, and all I hear is the burbling water in the creek, the birds chattering in the trees, and an occasional animal call I can’t really place.
It’s peaceful.
I’m peaceful, which is a bit of a surprise, considering I’m usually a bit of an Energizer Bunny and not good at staying still. I couldn’t even stay inside on the couch for long after JD left. Yet, I’ve been content sitting in this deceptively comfortable chair on the deck, simply existing, since I came out here.
Today I’m feeling a lot better than I did yesterday, which I’m sure plays a role, but I think it’s more than that. I think that being on my own since I left home in my early twenties, I’ve become used to everything falling on my shoulders. There is always something that needs to be done, and “idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” as my father used to quote.
I’m coming to terms with the fact hardworking is a badge I like to carry. A label I don’t mind wearing. It feels comfortable to think that’s how others see me, how I’ve begun to identify myself. It’s where I’ve always seen my value in the eyes of others; my worth. I’m strong, I’m capable, and I don’t need anyone else.
But this morning, sitting here completely unproductive and feeling quite at peace with that, I realize that is changing. A hard worker is only part of who I am, there is so much more to me.
I’d love to claim I came to that realization by myself, but I doubt I would’ve had this epiphany if JD hadn’t drifted into my life. He makes me feel fully seen in a way I haven’t experienced before. There don’t seem to be any conditions or expectations to his desire to be with me.
He simply wants to be around me, look out for me, and I’m learning to recognize it for the gift it is. I may not need anyone else, but damn, it sure feels good to have him in my life.
When Phil Jericho called this morning, wanting to know where he could drop off my check and a few items I’d apparently left behind at the rodeo grounds, I didn’t argue when JD offered to collect my things. I don’t particularly want to deal with Jericho. I was surprised he actually called, I would’ve thought he’d be busy with the aftermath of the rodeo and the events of the past few days. Everyone’s probably moving out today, on to the next event, wherever that is.
I’m not even sure what’s happening in terms of the FBI investigation, I haven’t heard from Stephanie Kramer since Friday night. We’ve been living in a bit of a bubble, first at the hospital and, since yesterday, here at JD’s place. A little reprieve from what has become an ugly world out there.
So, I’m sitting here, enjoying a peaceful morning, while JD is out there—slaying my dragons—and I’m surprisingly okay with that.
Suddenly Ginger raises her head, her ears tracking for sound. A soft growl sounds deep in her throat.
“What is it, girl?”
Slowly the dog gets to her feet, her head held low as she appears to focus on something on the other side of the creek. I sit up in my seat and squint my eyes against the sun, trying to make out what she could be looking at. It’s hard to see anything with the sunlight reflecting off the water almost blinding me.
An uneasy feeling has the hair on my neck stand on end, and I push myself to my feet, all of a sudden feeling too vulnerable sitting down. It’s almost like I have eyes on me.
My hand drops down to Ginger’s neck, my fingers curling around her collar, seeking a false sense of security. Part of me wants to rush inside and lock the doors behind me, but I’m afraid to turn my back on whatever—or whoever—is out there.
Without taking my eyes off the opposite bank of the creek, I take a few steps to the side before I start shuffling backward, dragging Ginger along with me. The dog fights my hold and suddenly starts barking furiously, as a black bear ambles out of the underbrush and saunters up to the edge of the creek. His head is up and his beady eyes are fixed on us.
Still, I sigh a breath of relief at the sight. When it comes to threats, I much prefer the four-legged kind.
That doesn’t mean I don’t jump when my phone starts ringing, a loud interruption of a silent standoff. On the other side of the creek, the animal appears startled as well, and as I grab my cell off the small table, he turns and runs back into the woods.
“Hello,” I answer, a little out of breath, as I keep my eyes on the trees where the bear disappeared.
“Go inside right now.”
I recognize Stephanie’s voice, but I’m confused.
“What do you mean?”
How does she know I’m outside? Is she here?
“Right fucking now, Janey,” she snaps, just as someone steps into the clearing across the water.
But it’s not Stephanie.
A sharp crack reverberates as splinters fly up from the chair next to me, and I dive for the door.
JD
What a fucking waste of time.
First of all, it was a bitch to get to the rodeo grounds, since it looked like everyone was coming and going at the same time, causing gridlock on the narrow roads through the park in both directions.
Yesterday was the last day of the rodeo, but the fair is still ongoing today, so the grounds are busy.
When I finally made my way to the trailers to find Jericho, his fancy SUV was parked in front, but the asshole wasn’t there. The first place I looked was the stockyard. The place was chaos with animals being loaded up in trailers, pens getting broken down and packed away, lots of people milling about but none of them Jericho. I finally bumped into one of Mackey’s hands who thought he saw him heading toward the auction arena, but there was no one there.
Then I got caught up trying to help wrangle a bull who’d managed to clear the gate on the side of the trailer ramp, and was charging toward the crowds of people at the fair. It took half an hour, a dozen men, several lengths of fencing, and a whole lot of cursing to get the animal into the damn trailer. But no one was hurt.
I thought for sure Jericho would show up after that excitement, but he is still AWOL when I get back to the trailer, dirty and sweating fucking buckets.
Damn bull, and damn Jericho.
I wasn’t able to find him in the stockyard and there is no way I’ll be able to locate him in the high-density crowd at the fair.
Getting in my truck, I briefly contemplate calling Janey to get Jericho’s number off her to see where he’s at, but I’ve already left her long enough and I’d rather just get back home. I’ll call the asshole from there.
As I turn my key in the ignition, my phone starts to ring. It’s Special Agent Kramer.
“Where the hell are you?”
The urgency in her voice has the blood run cold through my veins.
“Just leaving the rodeo grounds. Why? What’s going on?”
“Tell me Janey is with you—”
It feels like the air is being sucked from my lungs as I shake my head, belatedly realizing no one can see.
“No,” I croak. “She’s at my place.”
I hear some muffled cursing before she appears to relay my answer to someone. When she comes back on the line her message is curt.
“Get your ass over here.”
Then the line goes dead.
My heart is hammering up in my throat as I break every speed limit and traffic law, trying to get home.
Get your ass over here, Stephanie said, which would mean she’s at my house. I don’t think she’s there for a social visit.
Fuck, how could I have been so stupid? I thought we’d been careful and figured she’d be fine in my trailer for half an hour while I went to pick up her stuff. Of course, that half hour turned into an hour and a half.
I try calling Janey’s number several times as I race home, but keep getting punted to voicemail. By the time I reach the turnoff to my place, I’m so frantic, I cut right in front of an eighteen-wheeler heading to town. I manage to skirt past him by a hair’s breadth, but the blare of his horn follows me all the way up the dirt road to my trailer.
Two dark SUVs are parked in front as I slide my truck in beside them, jamming the gear into park as I jump out.
“She’s fine,” Stephanie Kramer volunteers when she opens my front door before I can.
My eyes shoot past her into my trailer where I catch sight of the back of Janey’s head. She’s sitting on the couch. I push past the agent and in four long strides I’m in front of her, sinking down on my knees. For the second time in as many days, I’m looking into her wide, startled blue eyes, before I scan her body for additional injuries.
“I’m okay,” she mutters, as if trying to reassure herself as much as she’s reassuring me.
No blood this time, for which I’m eternally grateful, but clearly whatever happened shook her up. I stroke the back of my fingers over her unmarred cheek and she grabs on to my wrist. She seems to need to for the contact, so I lift myself up on the couch beside her and gently wrap her up in my arms.
I hear Ginger whining from somewhere at the same time I see my shattered sliding door. Then I notice a group of several people with FBI printed on the back of their shirts standing at the edge of my deck. They’re surrounding an individual in handcuffs.
“Is that…”
“Phil Jericho,” Stephanie confirms, stepping into my view. “We’ve suspected his involvement and have been watching him, hoping he’d trip up and make a mistake.”
“Involvement?” Janey repeats incredulously, as if she still can’t quite believe what is happening.
The agent nods. “We suspect this wasn’t the first time the rodeo was used as a cover for drug trafficking. It made no sense a former rodeo champ and current city councilman like Jericho would continue his association with a livestock supplier who is suspected of animal cruelty. Livestock suppliers are plentiful in these regions, he could easily have gone with someone else. Unless—”
“He had a vested interest in having Mackey Livestock here,” I finish for her.
“Exactly. And when Janey told me, in the hospital, she caught Mackey mumbling to himself someone was supposed to have kept her under control, those pieces clicked into place. The only person who could’ve made that claim—however misguided—was Jericho.”
“He wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Janey volunteers. “He was pretty persistent in trying to get me to go out with him, even after it must’ve been clear I had no interest in him.”
“He probably figured he’d be irresistible,” Stephanie suggests. “I’m guessing that was his motivation for contacting you to be the rodeo’s veterinarian. He’s not bad-looking if you like the suave type, and he’s got money and influence. Powerful aphrodisiacs for a lot of women.”
“Not this one,” Janey fires back.
I give her shoulders a squeeze. “Lucky for me.”
“And bad for Jericho,” the agent concludes. “We’ve had him under twenty-four-hour surveillance since Friday night, waiting for him to make a move. Unfortunately, we didn’t know where he was heading when he took off in one of the park’s maintenance trucks, or we’d have warned you sooner. In fact, I didn’t realize where he was heading at first. He took the road to the airport and we thought for sure he was going to make a run for it, except he passed it and kept going. It wasn’t until he turned off on a dirt road, pulled the truck into the trees, and continued on foot toward the creek, I realized we couldn’t be that far from your place.”
I’d told her how to get to my place when she called me yesterday to check in on Janey, who’d been napping at the time.
“Why go after Janey though?” I question. “Surely he’d know by now she no longer has the drugs.”
“I don’t think he was after the drugs. I’m pretty sure he was trying to kill her.”
“That just doesn’t make sense,” I comment, tugging Janey closer to my side.
“I saw them, you know?” she pipes up beside me. “On Friday morning? I saw Jericho and Mackey; they were arguing about something. It was weird because I remember Jericho mentioning later, he hadn’t seen Mackey since Thursday, but I’d just seen them hours earlier near the holding pens by the auction arena. I meant to tell you about that.”
“There’s your motive,” Stephanie deduces.