Every Good Plan Read online

  He stared at the date next to it. It was tomorrow. There was no time to waste. He’d have to get down there before Diaz got to her first. There was no telling what he’d do to her to punish him.

  He ripped the article away from the rest of the paper, scrunching it up as he stuffed it inside the pocket of his pants while he stumbled to his feet. Somewhat dizzy from the lack of food and water, he made for the door. When he finally found his way outside through a maze of corridors and two flights of stairs, he found himself outside a deserted plant in the middle of nowhere. He picked a direction and began jogging down the overgrown road. The sand was thick and loose as if he were running along a beach. It took every bit of strength to keep his feet steady and his face from planting into the ground. There was a moment where he pretended he was running on the beach in Mexico, the sunrise full in his face. Just so he could keep his mind off the agony his body was enduring. He was dehydrated and beyond the point of exhaustion, but he kept running, stopping to catch his breath every minute or so. He had to get to Carrie before they did.

  Dread rushed through his veins as the thought of his sister ending up dead in a ditch somewhere settled in his mind. He would never forgive himself if something happened to her because of him. She didn’t deserve it.

  In the far distance, he heard traffic so he briefly stopped to listen more closely. Determining he was running towards it he pushed on. Before long, the sandy road changed to gravel, and soon after that, his feet hit the tarmac.

  He quickly tucked in his shirt and smoothed down his greasy hair. With one thumb out he tried to look respectable and confident in the hope that a car would stop and pick him up. He recognized the road to be one that was leading out of the city towards Charlotte. It was way off course. But if he could hitch a ride back toward the interstate he could catch a ride southbound from there.

  The coast was at least six hours away by car. Catching a lift with a trucker would take twice as long when adding in all their mandatory stops along the way. There was only one way he’d get to warn Carrie before they got to her first and that was by traveling in his own vehicle. One he, of course, didn’t own. Deciding not to waste any more time, he continued walking backward while holding out his thumb, his eyes pleading. Several vehicles had passed him by without heeding his need for help, but he kept going. It must have been another twenty minutes of slow walking when at long last a banged-up wood-paneled pickup truck pulled up in front of him.

  The blonde-haired man, roughly in his fifties, rolled his window down—only about ten inches. He was friendly but cautious. On the seat next to him was a well-worn straw hat, a half-eaten sandwich, and a flask. A quick conversation through the small opening of his window and Lenny was invited to jump on the back of his truck.

  Huddled between a couple of collapsing hay bales, Lenny welcomed the chance to rest. He realized he must have dozed off as he jerked awake when the driver rapped loudly against the window pane between them. He had pulled over at the edge of a small drive-through town just as they had agreed. And while most in Lenny’s position would have preferred to be dropped closer to the city, Lenny knew exactly what he was doing, and where he was going.

  As he rounded the service station he spotted the orange and blue bunting of the car dealership. He had once or twice played a game of underground poker with its owner. Cactus Jack, a name he fondly went by, was a stocky, partially bald man who, for the most part, lived a respectable life—at least as far as his community was aware. But once a month he’d sneak off to an illegal game of cards in the city and let what was left of the patches of hair above his small ears down. His love for cars was as brazen as his love for the tacky gold jewelry that adorned his pudgy neck and fingers. But Cactus Jack had another weakness. He also loved his women. Problem was, he had been ‘happily’ married to Irene for most of his life. And Irene’s well-to-do daddy owned forty percent of his business. So when Lenny had accidentally caught him living on the edge with a pretty girl half his age after a round of poker one night, Jack had made him promise not to tell his wife—or anyone else. A pact Lenny was all too happy to make at the time and a favor he had saved calling in for precisely an occasion like this.

  When Cactus Jack spotted Lenny’s disheveled presence roaming outside his office between the vehicles, he instantly knew the day had come. Like a bullet from a gun, he jumped up from behind his desk and dashed across the small showroom to meet Lenny out front before any of his salesmen could get to him.

  “Hey, if it isn’t my old friend Lucky Lenny,” he said with fake sincerity. “Long time no see.”

  “It’s been a while, yes. How’s that wife of yours?” Lenny went in for the kill. Time was of the essence.

  “Well, she’s great, thank you for asking, Lenny.” Cactus Jack tried to conceal his discomfort with his equally feigned reply, but he knew full well where Lenny was heading. The beads of sweat on his toad-like face revealed all. He leaned in closer to make sure their conversation wouldn’t be heard by one of his nearby salesmen.

  “What do you want,Lenny? I know you’re not here to buy a car.”

  Lenny smiled.

  “I’ve come to call in that little debt you owe me. The one involving that young little thing you—”

  “Okay, quiet. You don’t have to announce it to the entire world you know. What do you want?”

  “A car, with a full tank. And some fresh clothes and a bit of cash for the road.”

  Cactus Jack stood back and nervously sucked down on his top lip. A long second later he jiggled his waistband over his fat tummy before settling his hands on his hips.

  “Fine, but then my little indiscretion disappears for good. Forever, deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “Stay here.”

  He waddled off with surprising agility for his particular physique and returned a few moments later with a set of keys and five hundred dollars in cash.

  “Take that one.” He discreetly pushed his chin out towards a shiny black Chevrolet Malibu. “She’s not been added to the log yet. The tank is about a quarter full but the money should be more than enough to top it up. There’s a shop down the road where you’ll find your clothes and food.”

  Lenny flipped his fingers through the notes, looking up at Cactus Jack midway through.

  “The guilt’s been riding you I see.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just take it and leave before someone catches us. I’ll take care of the paperwork.” He nudged Lenny lightly by the elbow.

  “Pleasure doing business with you, Cactus Jack. I’ll be seeing you, buddy.”

  And as a relieved Cactus Jack swiftly waddled back inside the safety of his office, Lenny pointed the nose of his new car toward the coast in search of his sister.

  Chapter Seven

  As was the case each year when this particular event came round, Turtle Cove was buzzing with excitement. Hundreds of holiday makers from all over the country had already taken up lodging in their vacation homes or one of the local tourist accommodations for their annual Christmas vacation.

  It had been weeks of preparation building up to this night.

  Against a backdrop of spectacular seasonal window displays in all the stores, strands of colorful lights were strung between the trees along the bustling sidewalks. Beginning at dusk, the small coastal town would fill with thousands of luminaries and the glow of the twinkling Christmas lights that adorned every business in town.

  The center of town had been transformed into a landscaped garden exhibit with lighted statues and animated Christmas displays programmed to illuminate to the sounds of holiday music. Free craft and interactive games tables lined the main road on both sides to form a colorful alley of festivities that would entertain the townspeople and the seasonal visitors every night leading up to Christmas Day; something that had become synonymous with Turtle Cove during the Christmas holidays.

  In true form, with her clipboard in hand, by which she made sure everything went down without a hitch, Carrie Claiborne
joyfully bounced between the community members, making notes along the way.

  It was a clear but cold December evening and she was dressed in a pair of figure-hugging black slacks and a bright red, tailored coat tied at her waist, true to the spirit of the season. Her signature gloves matched her black pants and her iconic red lips were permanently pulled into a broad smile. Christmas was the happiest time of the year for her and she relished every minute of her duties as the town mayor’s wife. She loved her life. And she loved her little girl.

  “Careful, sweetheart, you’re going to get a tummy ache if you eat another one. Not to mention that Mrs. Martins will have to whip up another batch of her delicious gingerbread men.” She winked in approval at the baking shop owner when she wanted to sneak her daughter one last reindeer-shaped cookie.

  “All right then, let’s say thank you to Mrs. Martins and go see if Pastor Adam is done decorating the Christmas tree. We can’t switch the lights on if there aren’t any, can we?”

  Carrie looked down at her daughter where she now skipped alongside her toward where the tree stood in the center of the small public garden. At almost nine years old, seeing her little girl so full of life and joy was the best feeling in the entire world. Maribelle meant everything to her and Carrie had worked hard to be the great mother she knew she was. The mother she had always longed for as a child. Each time she and Maribelle played together or hosted a tea party for her dozens of dolls, she remembered what her mother had never been. Her mother was weak. Not by design but by consequence. Too timid to stand up for herself and her two children. There were times she still felt guilty for all those occasions when she knew her mother had taken the blame for something she had done, but there were also those times she felt angry with her. Angry because she allowed it to happen. Angry because it took so long for her to fight back. Her mind traveled back to that night when she had been woken up by her parents’ fighting. She had just turned eighteen and was only a few months away from graduating high school. Her brother had finally left home a few months before. She had quietly sneaked down the stairs to find her parents in a heated argument in the kitchen. Her father was shouting at her mother. He was drunk and had just come home after a night in the local bar. She remembered the punch that broke her mother’s nose before he pinned her up against the wall by the neck. Carrie briefly shut her eyes as she recalled the wheezing noise that had come from her mother’s throat as he was squeezing the breath out of her. And as she watched in horror while her mother’s life slowly slipped away beneath her father’s large hands, she had finally found her courage and run into the kitchen screaming for him to let her mother go. He didn’t. Instead, her interference enraged him even further. That was the first and only time her father had hurt her. A forceful backhand that had sent her flying across the kitchen floor like a rag doll.

  Something must have finally snapped in her mother when that happened. Something powerful enough to have made her reach for her kitchen scissors and kill her husband. One forceful strike into the side of his neck. The police ruled it self-defense and they didn’t press charges. But her mother was never the same after that night. Life was never the same after that.

  Carrie had tried many times to put her past behind her, forget it ever happened. But it kept coming up in her prayer time—especially of late. God’s tender prompting through his spirit told her she still hadn’t forgiven her father. Or her mother. She had locked it all up and thrown away the key. Far away where no-one could ever find it. Pretending none of her childhood ever existed was the only way she could forget.

  And now, years later, Carrie had been given the chance to raise her own family. The right way. It was a far cry from the oppressed way she had grown up. It was the life she had always dreamed of living. The life she had been planning since she was just a little girl. But it didn’t come easy and it didn’t come without its sacrifices. Sacrifices that oftentimes were too much for her to bear. She thought of her big brother without whom she would’ve never been able to leave home. He had viciously suffered at the hands of their despicable excuse of a father for years so she and their mother wouldn’t get hit. Guilt suddenly washed over her. She had even shut out her brother. The one person who didn’t deserve it. She knew that. He was the only one who had always been there for her growing up, and she’d turned her back on him. She hadn’t seen Leonard since the day she had visited him in prison to inform him of their mother’s suicide. That was a long time ago.

  “It’s an angel, Mommy, a beautiful angel!” Maribelle’s elated announcement at the Christmas tree topper jerked her back to the present. She pulled her mother by the hand toward where the town’s natural Christmas tree stood tall in the center of the green space.

  “Heavens to Betsy, would you look at that? It’s an angel at the top of the tree.”

  Carrie knelt down next to Maribelle and shared in the moment that had her daughter in awe.

  “It’s perfect, Adam,” Carrie said when he came out from behind the tree to stand next to them.

  “So I did my job well then?” he asked Maribelle, kneeling beside her.

  Since she and Abigail had been friends she was the closest he’d ever get to having a daughter again—a void he found particularly hard to fill during Christmas time. It had been almost two years since that tragic day.

  “Yes, very well, Pastor Adam. I just wish Abi was here to see it too.”

  “I know. We all miss her but I think, if you look at that angel carefully, you’ll notice it looks just like her. I’m certain she’s sitting on Jesus’ lap smiling down at you right now.”

  His words were exactly what Maribelle yearned to hear and she threw her arms around Adam’s neck.

  “Thank you, Adam. The tree looks spectacular,” Carrie said before adding, “So are we all set for the switching-on ceremony at midnight?”

  “Yup, I’ve checked every single globe myself. I need to nip back to the mission to make sure I’m set up for the service in the morning, but I’ll meet you back here just before the ceremony. How about this little angel comes back with me to the Lighthouse so you can go about your business without interruptions? Elsbeth has the carolers running through a final choir practice and they were hoping to still find someone special enough who would volunteer to dress up as an angel and join them caroling a little later. I don’t suppose you know of anyone who might fit the criteria?” Adam threw Carrie a sideways smile as he pretended to be serious.

  “Oh, I can be an angel. Can I, Mommy, can I? I’ll make the perfect angel. I can be special enough.”

  Carrie giggled.

  “You already are, my sweetheart. You will make the most beautiful angel of all.”

  “Yippee! I’m an angel, I’m an angel!” Maribelle twirled around the tree.

  “Then it’s settled. Come on, little Christmas angel. We have to get your wings on,” Adam said.

  “Off you go then, my little Maribelle. I’ll see you at the ceremony.”

  As Carrie watched her daughter bounce away with Adam, she turned to have one last look at the tree. From the corner of her eye, she noticed a tall dark figure leaning against the nearby swings. His arms were folded across his chest. He just stood there, watching her, staring at her. Her heart skipped several beats. She looked away and made a note to check in on the lanterns. As she adjusted one of the decorations on the tree Maribelle had played with, she looked up again. He was still there. His eerie presence made her uncomfortable. When she was done she turned to walk back up the green space—to pop in at Al’s Hardware to check on the lanterns. Curiosity must have gotten the better of her because she caught herself glancing back over her shoulder again to see if the man was still there. He was.

  She increased her pace. Why, she wasn’t quite sure. But something felt off; left her unsettled. And as she moved up the slight incline toward the street she looked back at him once more. He was following her.

  Chapter Eight

  Lenny flattened his foot on the Malibu’s accelerator as soon as
he hit the highway. He had stopped at a Chinese trading store where he bought a pair of khaki slacks, a navy sweater, and a navy puffer jacket. Afterward, he went to fill up the tank with gas and used the restroom to freshen up and change into his new clothes. He felt better than he had in days. Just before he turned onto the interstate, he popped through a fast-food drive-thru and ordered a large-sized portion of almost everything on the menu.

  As he stuffed a handful of fries into his mouth he glanced at the clock on the dashboard. By his calculations, he should hit Wilmington before sunset. It was a straight six hours’ drive and he didn’t need to make anymore stops. From there he’d ask for directions to Turtle Cove. He’d make sure Carrie was safe and out of danger and then he’d retrace his steps to hunt down the package, starting with the girl at the newsstand. She clearly knew more than she’d been prepared to divulge. Diaz had given him three days to find the package. It was completely doable. Provided he got her to talk.

  With a clear plan in mind, he turned on the radio and took a few large gulps of his soda before popping it back into the cupholder. A Johnny Cash song came on and he turned it up. He liked country music. Feeling upbeat, his thumbs tapped to the slow beat of the song. The song was about a lucky sun that had nothing to do but roll around in heaven. It spoke of the tears in his eyes, asked if the good Lord could hear him so he could wash his troubles away. The words suddenly struck a chord deep inside Lenny’s soul. What if there really was a God who could hear him and wash all his troubles away? Could he be powerful enough to make everything disappear? Diaz, the bookies… everything that had haunted him all his life. He had never prayed before. Didn’t even know how to. In fact, he had never really believed that there was a higher power. How could there be with all he’d had to endure in his life? The sudden shift in thought had him unexpectedly irritated and he slammed the radio button off. He turned his focus back to the road.