Blood Reckoning, page 1
BLOOD RECKONING
A JOHN JORDAN MYSTERY
BOOK 29
MICHAEL LISTER
Copyright © 2022 by Michael Lister
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
* * *
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
* * *
(John Jordan Novels)
Power in the Blood
Blood of the Lamb
The Body and the Blood
Double Exposure
Blood Sacrifice
Rivers to Blood
Burnt Offerings
Innocent Blood
(Special Introduction by Michael Connelly)
Separation Anxiety
Blood Money
Blood Moon
Thunder Beach
Blood Cries
A Certain Retribution
Blood Oath
Blood Work
Cold Blood
Blood Betrayal
Blood Shot
Blood Ties
Blood Stone
Blood Trail
Bloodshed
Blue Blood
And the Sea Became Blood
The Blood-Dimmed Tide
Blood and Sand
A John Jordan Christmas
Blood Lure
Blood Pathogen
Beneath a Blood-Red Sky
Out for Blood
What Child is This?
Blood Reckoning
* * *
(Burke and Blade Mystery Thrillers)
The Night Of
The Night in Question
All Night Long
* * *
(Jimmy Riley Novels)
The Girl Who Said Goodbye
The Girl in the Grave
The Girl at the End of the Long Dark Night
The Girl Who Cried Blood Tears
The Girl Who Blew Up the World
* * *
(Merrick McKnight / Reggie Summers Novels)
Thunder Beach
A Certain Retribution
Blood Oath
Blood Shot
(Remington James Novels)
Double Exposure
(includes intro by Michael Connelly)
Separation Anxiety
Blood Shot
* * *
(Sam Michaels / Daniel Davis Novels)
Burnt Offerings
Blood Oath
Cold Blood
Blood Shot
(Love Stories)
Carrie’s Gift
(Short Story Collections)
North Florida Noir
Florida Heat Wave
Delta Blues
Another Quiet Night in Desperation
(The Meaning Series)
Meaning Every Moment
The Meaning of Life in Movies
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CONTENTS
John Jordan Audiobooks
Series Sale
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 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
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JOHN JORDAN AUDIOBOOKS
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CHAPTER
ONE
“Have you heard from Carla?”
I immediately recognize the voice as that of Carla and John Paul’s neighbor, Miss Minnie. She’s a retired elementary school lunchroom lady who’s too old and infirm to give John Paul the care he needs, and Carla only uses her when she doesn’t want me to know what she’s doing.
“Not today,” I say. “Why?”
Anna’s disapproval and disappointment are palpable. I can feel it even though I’m not looking at her. She had asked me not to answer my phone.
“She’s running late to pick up John Paul,” Minnie says.
“How late?” I ask.
Anna drops the pen she’s holding onto the kitchen table, closes the notebook and file folder, and stands.
We had been working on a way to pay for Nash’s college tuition and cover the girls’ growing expenses, which was tense and unpleasant anyway. Me allowing the interruption provided a target for her to focus her frustration and irritation onto.
“Few hours. Said she’d be here by dark, and I need to—”
“Want me to come get him?” I ask.
Anna lets out a sigh and walks out of the kitchen.
“Could you? I hate to ask again, but . . .”
“I’m happy to,” I say. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
CHAPTER
TWO
“Carla is running late to pick up John Paul, and Minnie asked if I could get him,” I say.
“And of course you said yes,” Anna says. “Doesn’t matter what we’re in the middle of or what we have planned.”
After torturing ourselves with bills and budgets, we have a game night planned with the kids.
“We can still do everything,” I say.
“No, we can’t. And you don’t care that we can’t.”
“You know that’s not true. Of course I care. But I can’t leave him with Minnie,” I say.
“His mama does,” she says.
“I wish she wouldn’t.”
“I wish you could see what you’re doing,” she says. “How it makes us feel. You drop everything anytime Carla needs you. She knows you will. She counts on it. She manipulates you and you enable her.”
It’s true that I try to take care of Carla and John Paul as best I can—especially John Paul, who needs far more than Carla can give him.
“I . . . I don’t see it that way.”
“How do you see it? Please tell me.”
“I feel responsible for them.”
“You feel responsible for everyone.”
“That’s not true and not fair.”
She knows I’ve been working on my co-dependent tendencies to be overly responsible for others and my savior complex. She’s using a vulnerability and weakness of mine against me.
“Sorry,” she says. “I should’ve said that in a different way. You do so much for so many, but you can’t do everything for everyone.”
Even in the midst of dealing with challenges, disagreements, or actual arguments, I find Anna intensely alluring, irresistibly captivating, and incredibly attractive.
I take a moment and really look at her, study her for what seems the billionth time.
< br /> The fine lines on her face are like stanzas from a prose poem that tell a sacred story, and her brandy-brown eyes are deeper and hold more wisdom than even the day before. Her hair is just as thick as it ever was, and she keeps it brown and longish, at least in part because she knows how much I like it that way. And though she takes good care of herself and is vibrant and athletic and still remains stunning, she is aging, as am I, our lives having reached the tipping point where we’re nearly guaranteed to have fewer days ahead than behind us.
“You don’t feel responsible for John Paul?” I ask.
“We do so much for that child—more than anyone else. Including his own mother.”
“We were going to do everything for him.”
When Carla found out she was pregnant, she had asked Anna and I to adopt her baby when she had it, and we had agreed.
“Yeah, but she changed her mind about that, didn’t she?”
“Don’t hold that against John Paul.”
“I don’t. I’m not. That’s not what this is.”
“Are you sure?”
She takes a deep breath. “I’m gonna take a moment before responding to that.”
Her anger has hit a new level.
“I just asked you a question,” I say.
“No, what you did was imply that I’m punishing a child for his mother changing her mind about us adopting him.”
“Think about all the things you’ve said to me,” I say. “That I’m being manipulated. That I’m enabling bad behavior. That I feel responsible for everyone and put their needs before my family’s. That I’ve ruined tonight by agreeing to go get John Paul. All I did was ask you a question.”
“Not true,” she says. “And you know it. You told me not to hold Carla’s decision against John Paul, and when I said I don’t you asked if I was sure.”
“You’re right,” I say. “I didn’t just ask a question, and I shouldn’t have said that’s all I did. I really don’t want to argue about this. We can still do everything and—”
“How?” she says. “How can we do everything?”
“You could go with me to get him, and we could continue our budget conversation on the way, and we can still do game night when we get home—and let John Paul join in.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to waste our night arguing, but . . . you’re not being . . . Your solution to paying for Nash to go to college and all the girls’ expenses is we’ll figure it out. We just do it and then figure it out. It’s the same thing you’re doing with John Paul. You say yes. Carla or Minnie or whoever asks, and you say yes. You always say yes. Then try to make it work.”
“And doesn’t it?” I ask.
“No. We’ve got too much debt and we’re operating on a deficit. We’re overloaded with our own kids and responsibilities, and you’re saying yes to more—more debt, more responsibility, more energy and time we don’t have. We’re operating in a deficit as a couple and a family.”
“We have to send Nash to college,” I say. “We just have to. And John Paul is family.”
“So we’re gonna send him to college too?”
“Figured we would,” I say. “When the time comes. We’ll have plenty of money by then.”
“We’ll still be paying off Nash’s and the girls’ student loans.”
“So we’ll add his to it,” I say.
She shakes her head, but the hint of a small smile begins to twitch on her lips.
“What else are we gonna do with our money?” I say.
“Retire,” she says. “Travel. Not leave a mountain of debt for our kids.”
“You’re saying it’s their debt anyway, but we won’t.”
“Of course we—”
“That’s what life insurance is for.”
“So your grand plan is say yes to everything and maintain good life insurance?”
I laugh.
A little of the tension dissipates.
“I don’t say yes to everything,” I say. “Just to the things the kids need. It’s not like we’re getting ourselves much of . . . anything. But I bet I can live on less than I am.”
“I can’t imagine how,” she says. “You don’t spend any money on yourself.”
“I could sell the truck you got me and get a cheaper vehicle,” I say.
“No. Absolutely not. That was a gift. But you know what would make a huge difference . . .”
I know what she’s going to say. I pay my ex-wife, Susan, a lot of child support for Johanna each month even though Johanna lives with us and only visits her mom occasionally. It bothers Anna that money meant for Johanna is actually enabling Susan to live in the manner to which she is accustomed.
“It’s obscene for us to be giving money to Susan each month when Johanna lives with us.”
“And how long do you think she would live with us if I even brought up the subject with Susan? I’m not going to risk losing Johanna. I can’t.”
“I know.”
“Then please don’t bring it up again,” I say. “Just see it as what I have to pay to have my daughter.”
She nods. “Okay. I won’t bring it up again.”
“And I’d appreciate it if you could really let it go—not just not mention it but process it so it doesn’t bother you anymore. You know you don’t have to say anything for me to sense that you resent it.”
She gives me a warm smile and nods again. “My sensitive, empathic husband. Yes, I’ll work on letting it go.”
“I can get a second job,” I say.
“You don’t have enough time as it is,” she says. “Neither of us do. We can’t work any more than we already are. Now . . . if you want to get a different job . . .”
I give her a quizzical look.
She says, “Have you forgotten what started this conversation?”
“I’m trying to block it out as we go.”
“And I don’t mean the drop-everything-every-time-Carla-calls conversation. I mean the original financial conversation.”
“Nash’s college.”
“You hating your job and wanting to—”
“I don’t hate it,” I say. “I just miss Reggie and I . . . don’t care for Fred Miller’s . . . approach to being sheriff.”
“So look for something else,” she says. “Preferably something with better pay and less hours. Something you can be happy doing for the rest of your life. ’Cause neither of us will ever be able to stop working.”
CHAPTER
THREE
If I’m honest with myself, I don’t just feel responsible for Carla. I feel guilty. And that guilt contributes to my level of care and commitment when it comes to both her and John Paul.
I used to spend almost all night every night with Carla—back when I was single and trying to get sober. Back before I eventually abandoned her for Anna and a happier life.
As a teenager, Carla worked the overnight shift at Rudy’s, her dad’s 24-hour diner in Pottersville, where I used to live. Since I didn’t sleep much, I’d sit in the back booth and read, keeping an eye on the place while she slept in between waiting on customers.
