Aftermath by Michael Kerr Read Free Book Online Page A

mind.  Just enjoyed the moment in a place he’d never been.  He could smell the scent of pine and hear geese honking way out on the lake.  Maybe a cabin on its own somewhere in an area like this would be a good base to travel from when he got the urge to see pastures new.
    A frown creased Logan’s brow.  He closed his slate-gray eyes and for a few seconds looked ahead to what might be a future he was still a part of.  It struck him that he was now almost fifty, and that drifting from town to town, state to state, was not something he could do forever.  But the truth was that until he couldn’t, he would just keep moving.  It was all he knew and felt happy doing.  Being alone suited him just fine, because he never felt lonely.
    Back with the current program, Logan thought how best to deal with the threat to the two women in the cabin behind him.  The situation was stable at the moment.  One of the hitters had been effectively dealt with, and the other had no idea where they were.  But whoever wanted Rita and Sharon dead would not be discouraged.  He obviously thought they had information that could seriously harm him.
    He drank his coffee and shook the dregs out of the mug into the water, and watched the small fishes darting in and out between the timber piles as he ran through all that had occurred since he’d come face to face with Rita Jennings.
    Something was bothering him, scratching at the edges of his brain.  Something that he’d overlooked.  This was like combat.  You had to give the enemy all due respect, and know how to think like they did, so that you were ready for any form of attack.
    It came to him.  There was no excuse, but he had missed something that should have been fundamental in his reckoning.  As he lifted his right leg up and put his foot on the planks, he heard a footfall behind him.
    “Stay there, Logan,” a voice said.
     

CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Jerry Brandon was outside the showroom on the lot at his dealership adjacent to the Kanawha Mall, which was in sight of the traffic up on the West Virginia turnpike.
    It was hot as hell and the sun was glinting off the gold frames of Jerry’s bifocals.  He looked a like a showman, not a businessman.  He was fifty-three, with thick, gray, collar-length hair.  He wore a trademark pure white suit, with a belt sporting a large silver buckle with an embossed eagle’s head at its centre to keep his pants up, a red silk necktie, and snakeskin cowboy boots with extra high heels to lift him up a couple of inches from the five feet eight he stood barefooted.
    Jerry’s tanned face looked strained as he spoke to Sammy Lester.
    “I don’t fucking believe this,” Jerry said.  “You told me that the two guys you’d hired were professionals.  I’d have done better paying Abbott and Costello to get rid of my problem.”
    “Who?”  Sammy said.  He was twenty-five and a parallel universe away from the old comedy double act.
    “They were fucking idiots,” Jerry said.  “Nearly as stupid as the team you recommended.  Tell me that you’re going to put matters right, and quickly.”
    “It’ll all work out, boss,” Sammy said.
    “Why didn’t it work out the first time, before the bitches knew that they were being targeted?”
    “The girl in D.C. was just lucky.  One of the broads she lived with was a dead ringer for her and attends the same university.  And she borrowed her car that day.”
    “Luck didn’t come into it, you moron,” Jerry said.  “Is the shooter short-sighted as well as dumb?  He should have identified her beyond any doubt.  Instead, he followed her car and assumed that she was driving it.”
    “He’ll find her and kill her, boss.  I guarantee it.  Sal will get the job done.”
    “And what about her mother?”
    “Roy Naylor followed her to a trailer park up north.  Even put a tracker on her SUV when she stopped for a break.  He picked his time, at night, and checked that her vehicle was outside the