Page 9 of Backwater Justice

“Oh Jack, how you exaggerate.” Myra chuckled. “But you are probably right. I don’t know how long Annie and I will be out there, so I suggest everyone put on their big-boy pants and clear their calendar.”

“Meanwhile, I shall clear the table.” Jack stood and started bringing the dishes to the sink, making sure to scrape whatever was left on the plates into the already overstuffed dog bowls. Tails were hammering out a beat in anticipation.

* * *

Charles had honed his culinary skills over the years. It was a hobby he’d developed between missions, and Fergus was happy to play the role of sous chef, as well as dish and bottle washer. Charles was constantly finding new recipes he wanted to experiment with at the expense of everyone’s waistline. They’d made a pact and agreed to skip dessert during the week. “It’s the least I can do for my glucose and triglyceride levels.”

Myra chuckled. “And that scale in the bathroom keeps lying to me.” Myra was in very good shape for a sixty-something. She walked a mile or two every day, even if it was simply strolling the perimeter of the vast farm.

When the kitchen was put back in pristine condition, it was a cue for Nikki and Jack to retreat to their home. “Good luck with everything.” Nikki gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. “See you when you get back.”

“If not sooner.” Myra gave her a wink and a look that said,It’s not just the boys who may need to put on their grown-up pants.

Myra turned toward Charles, about to make her confession. Instead, she pivoted and said, “I think I am going to turn in. Big day tomorrow.”

“No doubt.” Charles smiled and followed her to the bedroom, dogs in tow. He sat on the overstuffed chair in the corner while Myra changed into her bedclothes. He waited until she reappeared. “Before we get too cozy, there’s something I think we should discuss.”

Charles had an odd tone to his voice. Myra gulped, unused to being uncomfortable with him. She made her way across the room and sat on the wide arm of his chair. “What is it, Charles?”

“Love, I would not have been doing my due diligence had I taken the job of head of security for you without knowing who I would be working for.”

Myra knew exactly where this was going, but it had never occurred to her that her husband would have done a thorough background check. She was stunned, annoyed, surprised, embarrassed, and not necessarily in that order. Before she had a chance to speak, he continued. “If you recall, I was MI6. Instincts and years of experience told me to always be aware of who you are dealing with.” He let it sink in. “You can’t blame a man. After all, Myra Rutledge was perhaps the most intriguing woman I’d ever met.” He put his arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap.

“Aren’t you the charmer?” Myra said wryly.

“That, too, is part of my job description.”

CHAPTERFIVE

Salem

The next morning, the Spangler family arrived at the hospital, with the exception of Christina, who was on assignment with Doctors Without Borders on the other side of the world. Helen promised she would keep her daughter informed of Milton’s health. At that moment, he was in stable condition but still in the cardiac unit. They hoped he could be moved to a private suite, but it might be days before that happened.

The unit allowed only one visitor at a time, so Helen went inside. Patricia, Benjamin, Gary, and Oliver waited in the small room outside the patients’ ward. Patricia had a blank look on her face, Benjamin’s expression was one of deep concern, and Oliver appeared bored. He was checking his newest wrist acquisition, a Breitling, when his phone vibrated in his Luca Faloni navy blazer pocket. He frowned when he saw the caller ID. It was Dickie Morton. Oliver stepped far enough away to have a conversation.

“What’s up?” he huffed into the phone.

“We got a problem.”

“No doubt.” A problem would be the only reason for a call from Dickie while Milton was in the hospital. “What kind of problem?”

“One of the packages is missing.”

“Which one?” Oliver asked.

“The first one.”

“You can’t be serious.” Oliver’s voice got louder.

“Like a heart attack. Oops, sorry,” Dickie replied. “When Dirk went out for his cigarette break, he noticed the glass on the pavement.”

Oliver looked around to see if anyone was listening or watching his facial expressions. He stepped farther down the hall. “You get your men on the stick. Pronto.” Oliver punched the red button with so much force, the phone flew out of his hand. An orderly was heading his way and was about to pick it up when Oliver grabbed it. “Thanks. I got it.”

“You alright, man?” the orderly asked.

Oliver pulled himself together. “Yeah. Thanks. Dad’s in the cardiac unit.” He jerked his head toward the big wood-and-glass swinging doors. That was a good enough excuse for his agitated behavior.

* * *

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