TSP contacts ranging all over the state.
She’d learned everything she could about Allen Jacobson, then his family.
From there…
There had been one report of a man matching Allen’s description at a store in Beeville. Security video had provided proof—it was him, and that woman was with him.
Dennis Lee’s leftovers at the TSP had done all the rest.
Jennifer smiled in complete satisfaction.
It was only a matter of time before the men she’d sent out had Wallace’s journals in hand—and had that little bitch Izadora MacNamara dead.
That’s all she really wanted.
It hadn’t mattered that Kyle had pointed out that Wallace would be the prime suspect in anything that happened to that girl.
Not if it was a robbery gone wrong, he wouldn’t.
Or a carjacking in Brownsville. Why, how was Wallace to know where Izadora had gone with her lover?
With her keeping Wallace where everyone could see him, that was only working in her favor.
Wallace was in no real shape to do much of anything.
She’d let him stay with her in her condo. Maybe that had been a mistake, but she wanted to know what he was up to.
He’d gone around, mumbling about Elizabeth. He had done that before. Especially in times of great distress.
He always brought up the baby when he was hurting. Like after his own mother had died.
Elizabeth had been named after Wallace’s mother.
Now, he was worrying her. Guilt. He never had handled it well.
She kept herself calm as she finished the early lunch she’d prepared for the two of them.
It had been simple. She’d had a contact at the TSP put out an alert to watch for a recreational vehicle with the plate number her sources had said would be associated with Allen Jacobson. It had taken her quite a while to get that number.
About three times as long as it had Kyle, but he hadn’t let her know that right away. He’d confirmed that the information he had was correct.
Jacobson’s sister owned an RV. A small one, capable of disappearing into the night so easily.
Then it had taken her a while to find it. That’s where all of Dennis Lee’s sources she’d made a point to schmooze with came in handy.
It was nice having half a dozen TSP officers on her unofficial payroll now.
Kyle was getting a bit too smug for her liking lately. She’d have to bring him back down to earth again, soon.
Finally, after far longer than it should have taken, came a text.
Jennifer cursed.
Wallace looked at her. “What? Can I help?”
Hell, no. Ultimately, he was the reason she was in this mess in the first place. “No. Just someone who was supposed to do a job for me and screwed up. Finish eating. I’m going in my office to deal with this.”
Wallace did exactly as he was told.
As if he was afraid she’d tell him enough was enough and to get out.
Of course, she wouldn’t.
Not until she’d cleaned up his latest mess.
81
Izzie knew this was a gamble. The only information she had to go on was the Snotty Garlic and the slim possibility that whoever had been in that Barratt-Handley limo had been Mel or her husband. Not exactly reliable.
They needed help. With what had happened, there was no way she would ever risk taking Allen to the local hospitals. She’d tried.
The instant she’d pulled into the largest hospital ER in Brownsville, she’d seen the truck.
Waiting.
Only one man this time. That had been enough. There had even been paint scratches all over the front bumper.
The driver hadn’t even tried to hide what they were doing.
There was no way she was risking another ER.
They needed a hiding place and someone capable of bringing the medical help they needed to them. Instead of the other way around.
That meant she needed someone with resources. Someone she could trust.
Allen was holding on, but he was in a lot of pain. They were running out of time; he needed help. She had no clue if the bullet had damaged an artery or not. She didn’t think it had, but she was not going to risk it. A through and through, but it was still bleeding. Steadily, but not copiously. The last time she’d checked, it had slowed, at little. She’d done everything she could think of and was reassured there wasn’t major damage to his shoulder.
What concerned her the most was the head wound. He’d hit his left cheek bone hard enough to do some serious damage, and his forehead had bounced off the floor. She had no clue how he’d fallen