Steal My Life
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Red Eye!
Chapter Seventeen
Jackson tapped away at his laptop, whistling a happy tune as he worked. He had sent Lisa's husband to what would be his death. The best part was that he would be a witness to the murder and no one would suspect it was anything more than a tragic accident. It had been surprisingly easy to hack his way into military files and make sure that David Roberson was on the next plane to the Middle East.
The recent war on Terrorism begun by the events of 9/11 had made his job even easier. Troops were deployed into the danger zone all the time and causalities were common-place. No one would investigate a soldier's death during a war.
Jackson was already in the Middle East, having been sent on a data-retrieval mission by Craig Smith. With his close-proximity and the easy access to high-powered weapons in foreign areas, David Roberson's murder would be a piece of cake.
Lisa will be mine. There's no one left to stand in our way now.
He stabbed the 'enter' key on his laptop and relaxed. He had once again hacked into a top-secret mainframe and sent the orders for David's troop to be sent into a particularly dangerous area. It was a well-thought out suicide mission and he would be there in the shadows, lurking with a weapon, to make sure that David did not make it out alive.
She's much too good for you… he thought, scowling at the photograph of David in his personal file that he had lifted. Only I deserve her.
He fingered a lock of hair stolen from after her last hair cut. It had been easy to swipe the curl he now carried off the floor of the salon after having his own hair cut in the same chair. The auburn piece of hair still carried the faint scent of her shampoo, which was the same shampoo used in the salon.
Soon, Lisa, soon we'll be together again. This time it'll be forever.
Jackson lay in wait above the empty crowds. He had set up the high-powered rifle he had purchased and crouched down beside it as he waited for David and his troop to enter his carefully laid trap. Below him were men also prepared for battle—men who could not wait for a chance to kill American troops. A large amount of money had passed from his hands to theirs for his safe passage through their territory and the chance to take out his enemy.
Come on, come on!
Special Ops men in desert fatigues with their own high-powered rifles cautiously traveled down the narrow streets. Jackson froze on the rooftop and was internally grateful for his choice of light colored clothes that day. As the small group approached the building he lay on, he aimed the scope on David.
He trained the scope on David's throat—the one area where he was most likely to kill him. David was wearing a helmet and a bulletproof vest and Jackson wasn't about to waste his one shot. He adjusted the rifle, deciding to aim higher than the throat. He changed his shot to David's face, a wide smirk crossing his face as his finger caressed the trigger.
Any day now!
Shots erupted from below and Jackson pulled the trigger. David fell to the ground and Jackson quickly peppered the dead man with more shots to make his murder appear to be an accident.
As battle raged on below him, he packed up his rifle and belongings and made his exit from the area. His job was complete.
David Roberson was dead and Lisa would be his.
Lisa froze when she answered the knocking on her door. Two men in suits were standing outside, badges in hand.
"Mrs. Roberson?" the older man asked and she nodded in response.
"May we come in?" questioned the younger one.
She stepped back from the door and allowed them in. As they strode towards her living room, she closed the front door and followed them. They sat down on the couch while she stood, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
"Mrs. Roberson, I'm afraid we have some bad news. It's about your husband…"
Lisa tuned out the two men; these businesslike strangers. She shook her head as they spoke. She caught snatches of their words: "dead", "accident—it was an ambush", "he was shot", "his body will be buried here", "a hero".
"I want you to get the hell out of my house," she said in a low voice in the middle of their talk. She had heard enough. Her husband was dead—she had known that the very moment she opened the door. She did not need them blabbering on and on about bravery and how he died for his country.
She already knew why he died. He died because she had been unable to save she loved him—unable to convince him to stay with her. Because of her, an innocent man was dead.
It's my fault…
Author's Notes:
A semi-short chapter. I think Jackson had a little bit too much fun taking David out. In the next chapter, Jackson will murder Audra and pay a visit to Dr. Donovan again. Soon, Lisa will bury David and Jackson will have another psychotic break. In three chapters (chapter twenty) Lisa and Jackson will meet again and her life will change drastically.
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