Page 14 of Christmas Ransom

“Couldn’t he tell which bills were marked?” Jud asked as casually as he could over the sudden rush of his pulse. He’d heard about bank employees dropping into a robber’s bag a container of ink that blew up. He’d checked the bags when he’d gotten the money out for the goons. All the bills were just fine.

“They’re not marked like that. They keep bills that have consecutive serial numbers they watch for. Everyone will be looking for those bills,” she said. “He’ll have trouble spending the money—even years from now—and not getting caught.”

Jud ground his teeth. Why hadn’t he known that? Had Buddy? Had the others? He thought of the bags of money and swore silently. Carla Richmond would have known that. She would have known it the whole time they were robbing the bank. That woman.

Then he had a thought that stopped him dead. He’d just given over fifteen hundred dollars of the money to Wes and Fletch, the two goons who worked for the loan shark.

His blood ran cold at the thought of what would happen if they pocketed some of the money, tried to spend it, were arrested—and told their boss where they’d gotten the cash.

He reminded himself that Jesse had been specific about him taking the money that had come from the tellers’ tills. He hadn’t, but it was probably fine.

CARLAWASPLEASEDto see that every lid she lifted on her food tray revealed something that looked and smelled delicious. She really was hungry. She hoped the aide was good to her word and kept the agent out of her room until she’d eaten. She’d already decided that because of the aide’s promise, she would take her time.

Eventually, she would have to tell the FBI agent about the tattoo. She had her doubts whether he could find the man based on it though. But it was a clue. She’d bet that the man’s name started withJ. That had to be something, right?

She lifted the last lid to see what she had before she took her first bite and swallowed back a scream. On top of what smelled like a brownie lay a napkin. Someone had written in black marker TALK AND YOU DIE.

Chapter Ten

Reflexively, Carla slammed the lid back down as she fought the tears that came on the heels of her shock—and terror. Past her initial alarm came a chilling thought: she wasn’t safe here. Not even with an FBI agent and Willie Colt outside her door.

Worse, she knew why she’d been left the note. The man from the bank robbery. He knew that she’d seen his tattoo. He feared that she could identify him. That was why he had been so desperate to take her hostage. He’d wanted to kill her and would have if she’d gotten into that van.

But how did he get a note onto her food tray? Did he work here or did he know someone who did? Not that it mattered. She wasn’t safe, and if she told anyone about what she’d seen—

Agent Robert Grover stuck his head into her hospital room doorway.

“Up for a few questions while you eat?” he asked as he stepped into the room, with his partner Deeds right behind him.

Carla made angry swipes at her wet cheeks and pushed away the food tray, her appetite gone. She tried to pull herself together and decide what to do.

As long as she was in the hospital, she wasn’t safe. The robber knew what room she was in. How else would he have been able to sneak her the note? He could be a nurse. Or an orderly. Or work in food service. He could be so close that he had seen the agent enter her room just moments ago.

Her thoughts were immediately at war. Wouldn’t the smart thing be to tell the agent everything and let him track down the man and put him behind bars? Maybe J, as she now thought of him, had left fingerprints on the dish or the food tray. If he had a record...

But even as she considered it, she reminded herself that Agent Grover thought it was an inside job. He was busy looking at her as a suspect. He might think the tattoo was just a stalling tactic on her part, something to keep him busy tracking down red herrings instead of looking more closely at her.

If she talked, J would know and he’d be coming for her right here at the hospital. Right when she would be at her most vulnerable.

She kept her mouth shut about the note out of terror. After FBI agents Robert Grover and Hank Deeds left, the blonde aide came in to take her tray as if she had been waiting outside in the hallway—as anxious for him to leave as Carla had been.

“You hardly touched your dinner. Is everything all right?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she started to reach for the dessert dish lid with the note under it. “You sure you don’t at least want your brownie?”

“No!” She’d said it a little too sharply, because the young woman looked at her with concern, but pulled back her hand without lifting the lid. “I’m just not hungry. Please take it and throw it all away.”

“If you’re sure,” the blonde said before picking up the tray. “Maybe you’ll be hungrier in the morning. Did I hear that you’re going to be released tomorrow afternoon? At least you’ll be with us for a while longer.” The young woman smiled. “That’s good news, even though I’m sure you’re anxious to get out of here. Once you get home, maybe then your appetite will return.”

Carla watched her go, feeling even sicker than she had been earlier. She wasn’t being released until tomorrow afternoon. If she lived that long, she was going home to an empty house. Not only did she live alone, but also her house was outside town. Her closest neighbor was a half mile away.

She thought of her cozy little house, which had always been her sanctuary. Now it felt ominous, set back off the road, the home surrounded by dense pines on three sides and large boulders at the edge of the river on the other. How quickly the privacy and quiet turned into something else—a place where she wouldn’t see the killer coming until it was too late.

How foolish she’d been to think it was over. She’d thought that she’d dodged a bullet when J hadn’t taken her hostage, when she’d awakened in the hospital and realized it was only a concussion and she was going to live.

Then she’d read the note. It was a reminder that he not only hadn’t forgotten about her, but that he could get to her at any time, even later when she was sleeping.

Carla could feel her pulse thumping hard just beneath her skin as the reality of her situation hit her. She had a killer worried that she might give him away to the feds. She had a federal agent who thought the robbery had been an inside job with her help. She wasn’t safe. Not here in the hospital. Not anywhere until J was caught.

Maybe she should have told the agent. Maybe if she’d shown him the note... It was too late now. Worse, she doubted J would trust her to keep her mouth shut. Which meant he wasn’t finished with her.

---