Exit Strategy

Chapter 5

Larry Smith rose from his seat on the top deck of the ferry, and used the white metal railing to steady himself. The woman with the dog had left—presumably to somewhere out of the wind. The teenagers were still on the bow, their music blending with the sounds of the engine, the wind, and the boat pushing through water.

Larry Smith rose from his Larry moved his neck from side to side and rolled his shoulders back to stretch the muscles in his chest. He did this several times a day, and every time, without exception, his left shoulder would hurt like hell. Once again, he couldn’t get past the idea there were still shotgun pellets embedded inside him. The little Chinese man had sworn he had gotten them all, but then…what else was he going to say? Who knows—maybe I missed a few—good luck?

Who knows—maybe I missed a few—good luck?Larry allowed his mind to drift to places it shouldn’t. To Jennifer, his soon-to-be ex-wife. His emotions roller-coastered through love, hate, anger, sorrow, guilt, lust, and self-loathing. As on most days, the ride came to rest somewhere between anger and self-loathing. The last job nearly cost Larry his life, but he’d managed to survive. The price for his failure was his marriage and a battered reputation. Most days that didn’t seem like much of a bargain.

The night when everything changed, when Jennifer had been slapped in the face by Larry’s double life. Actual pharmaceutical salesmen didn’t stumble through the front door in the wee hours of morning, trailing blood and refusing to go to a hospital.

ActualAustin Daley stood one deck below Larry, holding firmly to a polished metal pole that ran from the deck to the ceiling. There were plenty of chairs available, but she liked the feel of the boat moving beneath her. Austin would have preferred one of the open decks, but Roderick wasn’t up to that and she understood. It was warmer inside the cabin, the rumble from the ferry’s engine muted—as was the rest of the experience.

Austin Daley stood one .From his seat a few feet away, Roderick casually looked her up and down. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d done so since they’d met. He was six-feet-two inches and figured Austin was just about a foot shorter. She was twenty-three—not quite half his age. He usually liked his women taller, and even a little older—but not much. Even so, Austin appeared to have plenty to offer. Roderick reminded himself this was strictly short term, simply a stop gap to get him over the next hurdle.

From his seat a few To this point, he’d remained a perfect gentleman. They’d spent the previous night at a Hilton Garden Inn—separate rooms with a connecting door. Roderick had considered wandering over in the middle of the night, but rejected the idea for two reasons. The first was he didn’t want to risk scaring her off. The second was the pain. Though he tried to mask it, it wasn’t getting any better.

Still holding the rail, Austin leaned close enough to catch a whiff of Roderick’s expensive cologne and spoke only loud enough for him to hear. “How are you feeling?”

His eyes disconnected from hers. He looked down at his swollen ankle. “Not that bad.”

“You’re really not a good liar,” she told him.

The irony of her statement did not escape him. If only she knew. “Really, it’s not that bad,” he insisted, though this time with a bit less conviction.

If only she knew.“Turn sideways,” Austin said. She peeled off her jacket, then folded and refolded until it was an almost-square cushion.

Roderick, sitting in one of the molded-plastic chairs that were bolted to the deck, watched as she placed the coat two chairs to his left. With her help, he raised his leg and gingerly placed his ankle on her coat. The elevation eased the pain.

Austin took the seat to Roderick’s right. “Just lean back on me.”

“That"s not going to be very comfortable for you.”

“It will be fine. Besides, you said this is a short trip, anyway.”

“You"re a sweetheart.”

In response, Austin craned her neck and planted a light kiss on his perfectly tanned cheek. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

Roderick smiled in response, crow’s feet spreading from the corners of his eyes.

Over the past seventy-two hours, Roderick’s psyche had caromed unpredictably between confidence and self-doubt. The money was irrefutable. He now had more wealth than he could have ever imagined as a poor kid growing up in Texas. He’d devised a masterful plan and had executed it flawlessly. Except for the two goons coming to his building and the phone call. Roderick had come to the realization that part had been outside his control. He struggled to get his mind around that.

Over the past seventy-two Look out your window. The caller had known what was about to happen—had probably saved his life—most certainly his new-found wealth. But why? What was the caller hoping to gain? It had been two days, and Roderick was no closer to knowing who to thank or whom to suspect.

Look out your window. A gravelly voice with a hint of New England accent came over the loudspeaker and announced the ferry was at the halfway point and they should be reaching Rockhead Island in approximately twenty minutes.

“They have coffee and hot chocolate,” Austin said.

“A cup of coffee would be good,” Roderick replied, thinking that as soon as it cooled a bit, he would wash down another Vicodin.

"Easy on the cream and one sugar," she said like a waitress with a familiar customer.

"You already know me too well," Roderick replied with a hint of smile.

She countered in an impish tone, “I seriously doubt that.”

The harbor at Rockhead Island was larger than the one on the mainland. Man-made and thoughtfully engineered, the oval-shaped haven offered refuge to those in higher tax brackets. The ferry eased into the harbor’s mouth between two massive homes with complex roof lines and large expanses of glass. On the far side of the marina, yachts were moored side by side. Beyond the yachts, gas-powered post lights dotted the boardwalk and provided a soft nostalgic glow against the fading light of the October sky.

The harbor at Rockhead On the far side of the boardwalk, most of the shops had already closed for the day. Inside the softly-lit storefronts, mannequins stood expressionless, draped in stylish sweaters and hooded jackets for late season beach wear. On the north end of the marina were more homes. Most were dark, their owners having already fled ahead of the dying season.

From her seat in the lower cabin, through the small window, Austin watched the ferry’s final maneuvers. She sat next to Roderick—their shoulders touching. The captain brought the boat almost to a complete halt before completing a ninety-degree turn then tucking the ferry tight against the dock.

“Looks like we’re here,” Austin said, in an enthused voice.

Her tone lifted Roderick’s state of mind. There was something about her presence. The conman found himself considering options that hadn’t existed twenty-four hours earlier. Sure, he was old enough to be her father, but that didn’t stop him picturing Austin by a pool in a bikini. Too old to be thinking like a schoolboy with a perpetual hard-on, but swim-suits raced through his brain like so many flash cards—white, black, pink, red, yellow—hell, she would even look good in green. When he stepped from the ferry onto the short gang plank connecting the boat to the dock, Roderick was still thinking about Austin by the pool. Sunshine glistening off her oiled body—the summery smell of suntan lotion in his nostrils. In that moment, he almost forgot about the pain radiating up his left leg.

Larry Smith positioned himself to exit the ferry in the middle of the crowd. Don’t be first, don’t be last. He was convinced those were the people most memorable. In the line well behind Malone and the girl, he exited just behind the woman with the white German shepherd. Once across the gangplank, Larry lethargically followed the small group up the switch-back ramp to the main deck and loading area. He watched Malone struggle with the incline, limping noticeably; he was now convinced that the cane was no prop. When Malone and the strawberry blonde reached the top of the ramp, they stood just outside the gaggle of island vacationers waiting for their luggage.

Larry Smith positioned himselfDon’t be first, don’t be lastGlancing at his watch, Larry pretended to stare off in the direction of the marina, but from his periphery watched Malone lean on his cane. He tried to figure how his shapely young companion fit in the puzzle. Her arm casually looped inside of his, she looked around the way people do when they arrive somewhere they’ve never been. Maybe more to her than met the eye—or possibly less. A pretty pawn, or an up-until-now silent partner? Larry bet pretty pawn, but his recent hard lesson on the uncertainties of life, particularly when it came to women, had nudged his cynicism to a new level. But with that had come some unexpected enlightenment. The world in constant motion, Larry realized no one could fully prepare for the endless variables. Keep your mind uncluttered by preconceived notions. The Universe loves nothing more than to make you look the fool. If this job went south, no one who counted would ever hire him again. Malone’s little blonde was an unexpected wrinkle. Larry would need to give her some thought.

Maybe more to her than met the eye—or possibly less.A pretty pawn, or an up-until-now silent partner? Keep your mind uncluttered by preconceived notions. The Universe loves nothing more than to make you look the fool. As he began this consideration, Larry’s soon-to-be ex-wife, Jennifer, swept into his thoughts and took command. The raven-haired seductress snatched the strawberry blonde’s image from Larry’s head, replacing it with her own. Jennifer stared back at him, her beautiful face arranged with equal portions of passion and contempt.

Crazy women are good in bed. Larry couldn’t remember where he’d first heard that, but with Jennifer, if was definitely true. She was like a master chef and possessed a seemingly-endless array of exotic s****l recipes. Larry missed that and would probably miss it until the day he died.

Crazy women are good in bed.“Keep your mind uncluttered,” he said in a chastised whisper. Not as easy as it sounded. Larry shot one more surreptitious glance in the curvy blonde’s direction. By this time tomorrow, or surely the next day, she would be gone. Nothing he could do about that.

, Wrong place—wrong time.

Wrong place—wrong time.