The Simsville Inheritance
Copyright ©2006 Elizabeth G. Cox. All rights reserved. | |
Chapter 15 - Home FreeJamie had slept pretty well, all things considered. He'd counted the money twice, fingering the lovely un-dyed bills as he went. Tracking devices and chemicals, what a laugh. It only took him a few minutes to figure out how to open the bag without too much danger to himself. One silly little stack, what was that, maybe ten thousand? Plenty of cash left to do whatever he wanted for the next few months. Something would come to mind after that. He'd returned to the stable while the girl was asleep and left her a bottle of water and several packs of nabs. The bottle looked perfectly intact, lid sealed tight, but the little extra medicine he'd injected into it should keep her asleep for another few hours. He had no intention of returning with any further breakfast. She was resourceful, she'd find a way to escape soon enough but he'd make one more call just in case. No need to have the girl die on him, she was a pretty little thing. Fiery, maybe, but pretty. And he sure didn't need any murder charge hanging over him out there. Once Charlotte was home safe and sound he was home free himself. The likelihood of her ever identifying him was zero, zilch and none. His Little Theater experience had sure come in handy for changing facial characteristics, hair color, eye color, even height and weight. Not to mention the southern drawl, that was his masterpiece. No, they could pass in the street and she'd never recognize him. His short blond crewcut, sky blue eyes and fair Scandinavian coloring had made an excellent palette for a southwestern redneck. Smiling as he remembered the swampy hole where he'd dropped the bag, he gave some thought about the day ahead. A nice lunch over in Columbia appealed to him, maybe take in one of the new movies, then shop in one of the upscale men's stores for a new outfit. The jeans, boots and shoes he'd dropped in the swamp after the bag hadn't cost much at the North Carolina factory outlet and they really weren't his style of dress anyway. He deserved a nice new set of threads for all his hard work. Hard mental work, that is — the physical part hadn't even broken a sweat. Yes, all in all it had been a profitable few weeks. Time for a little vacation, even if just a weekend's worth. He hummed to himself as he locked the door behind him and headed for his car. Maybe he'd treat the Corvette to a new wax job while he was at it, he could afford it. |
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Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | |