“How did it go?” she asked in a forceful whisper.
He flashed another thumbs-up as he boarded the Zodiac. Quickly he started the outboard engine, put the boat in gear, and steered out from under the deck. After going some fifty feet, both he and Jeanne looked back. The horse and the dogs could be seen at the far end of the paddock, where the horse had stopped to eat the grass. Heather Williams in her tattersall vest and white breeches was still in the exact position she’d been when she’d tumbled to the ground.
It was Jeanne’s turn to give Brian a thumbs-up as he increased the speed to a no-wake fast walk. It wasn’t until they were a good three or four hundred yards away that Brian slowed even more so they could talk without shouting. Several boats passed them, heading into Manhasset Bay from the Long Island Sound, one with a water skier.
“It went perfectly, without a hitch,” he assured her. He looked back yet again to the Williams mansion, this time using binoculars. The scene hadn’t changed. The horse and dogs were still at the far end of the paddock, and Heather Williams’s body was at the near end. It still had not been discovered, although it was only a matter of time. “I’ve never done anything like that. It was so quick, and so different from the messy shootings I’ve been involved with in the line of duty. I don’t know how to feel, except relieved that one nasty, greedy narcissist is gone.”
“Which is a tribute to the love you had for your wife and child,” Jeanne said. “I exhaled, too, when I heard the gun, which, by the way, I barely heard.”
“That’s thanks to the suppressor,” Brian said. “It definitely bought us some needed time.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t be saying this,” Jeanne said. “But it’s rewarding that so far everything is going so well. The world is already a better place without her.”
“It’s thanks to our careful planning. One down and one to go. Let’s hope the Charles Kelley portion goes as smoothly. I’d really like to avoid having to do a break-in. With the sniper rifle there are infinitely fewer chances of complications and collateral damage.”
Following her suggestion, they went back to using the fishing rods by putting them in holders mounted in the stern, pretending they were trolling as they slowly motored across Manhasset Bay on their way to Charles Kelley’s. They were not in a hurry now that they were at least a half mile away from Heather Williams’s and with a significant number of other boaters in the area, taking advantage of the beautiful weather. They also preferred not to arrive at Kelley’s mansion too soon, as he wouldn’t appear on his outdoor shower balcony until it was near sunset or soon thereafter. At that moment it was just a little after six and almost a full hour before they needed to be in position.
“Are your parents excited about your homecoming?” Brian asked, eager for conversation to avoid any nerves setting in. He knew that Jeanne had only recently informed her parents, in case a glitch in the planning process made it necessary to put off the operation.
“You have no idea,” she said. “They’re ecstatic, figuring I was a lost cause. They are already busy setting up that farmhouse I mentioned.”
“When will you tell them about me?” Brian asked. He’d spent his life constantly and comfortably ensconced in various groups like athletic teams, which was part of the reason he’d joined the NYPD originally right out of college. It was going to take time to adjust to feeling both rootless, solitary, and totally dependent on others.
“As the saying goes, ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,’ ” Jeanne answered. “I’m not at all concerned.”
When they were a hundred yards or so off of Charles Kelley’s pier, Brian cut the outboard engine and again tossed out the anchor. This side of the bay was shallower, and the anchor immediately took hold. With fishing poles in hand again, they passed the binoculars back and forth.
“It’s encouraging to see he’s humiliating his driver/bodyguard again,” Jeanne commented when it was her turn to survey the scene.
“I agree. It means he’s following his normal routine. Fingers crossed that he keeps it up, especially by taking his nightly outdoor shower.”
“I’m not worried,” she said.
“Lucky you,” Brian responded teasingly.
At a little after seven, they made their move. Following the successful playbook they’d used at Heather Williams’s, they paddled in under the end of Charles Kelley’s pier, positioned the Zodiac for a fast exit if necessary, and Brian used the ladder to get up to the deck. He then entered the cabana, which afforded considerably more concealment than the group of Adirondack chairs on Heather’s pier. Conveniently the cabana had a window-like opening facing inland with louvered shutters and a table that Brian turned lengthwise to serve as a perfect placement for the Remington on its bipod. Cracking open one of the shutters while sitting in a chair, he sighted through the telescopic sight. The waterside view of the Spanish-themed house was par excellence, even better than he’d had at Heather Williams’s, which had proven to be so efficacious.
The problem, however, was that after waiting some time, there was no Charles Kelley in sight. Although he and his driver/bodyguard had long since stopped their basketball, Kelley had not appeared, even after the sun set. Just when Brian was beginning to despair and had begun reluctantly thinking about the timing of a break-in, which he assumed would have to be after full darkness, the light in the master bedroom flicked on.
Trying to be optimistic, Brian leaned his head against the cheek-rest and sighted through the scope. His view of the second-story outdoor shower couldn’t have been better, and he estimated that the distance was very similar to what it had been when he shot Heather Williams, namely a hundred yards or so. Using the bolt action, he put a shell into the firing chamber and slipped his index finger inside the trigger guard, hoping for the best.
Slowly the minutes ticked by, but still no Charles Kelley. Normally steady under stress, Brian could feel the trickle of perspiration on his forehead as well as his pulse significantly quicken. Still, with self-control, he kept his breathing slow and steady.
Then suddenly the Moorish arched door swung open, and Charles Kelley appeared towel in hand rather than over his shoulder. Even from a hundred-plus yards and sitting inside the cabana, Brian could hear the intermittent strains of some rock music emanating from within the house, causing Charles to bob and weave to the beat. With such erratic movement, Brian bided his time, watching through the scope as Charles turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature. Finally, when all was to his liking, Charles stepped into the enclosure, shut the door, and put his head directly under the torrent.
Since he was visible from mid-thorax up and facing away, it was a perfect setup for another brainstem shot. With careful precision, Brian placed the crosshairs directly at the base of the man’s skull, and hesitated for a moment, thinking of Emma and Juliette. The subsequent wave of emotions urged him to press against the trigger.
The rifle made the same thumping whoosh as it had when he’d shot Heather Williams. By force of habit and reflex, Brian used the bolt to eject the empty shell and load another bullet. But again, a second shot was not necessary. As with Heather, Charles instantly fell, disappearing from view behind the shower door. Brian could clearly see a large circular bloodstain centering on a sizable crater in the tiled wall. There was little doubt that the armor-piercing bullet had completely traversed Charles’s head to exit out the forehead.