The Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 1-3 (Alex Troutt Thrillers Box Set)

by John W. Mefford

  She released another series of cackles, her eyes sparkling with wetness. “You weren’t being chased by a hive of bees. What were you thinking?”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “So what did the dog do, jump in after you?”

  “Well, I waded in the deep end of the pool for a good five minutes. Finally, a lady came out of the house, and when I tried explaining what happened, she threatened to call the cops. So I climbed out and slowly creeped around the front to see if I could retrieve my mail.”

  Mary took a napkin from the bar and dabbed her eyes. “Okay, don’t leave me hanging.”

  “The damn dog was chewing on a piece of meat. One of the small packages I was carrying apparently had a boneless ham in it.”

  Once again, their laughter filled the breakroom. Gavin reveled in the sound of it.

  “Oh my, Gavin, what am I going to do with you?”

  “Join me for a drink at this really quaint bar in Back Bay on Friday night.” The words escaped before he could stop them, and his breath caught in his throat.

  For a split second Mary looked equally shocked, her posture abruptly stiff and stuck in the same position.

  “Oh wow, I guess that’s a bit awkward.” Gavin would have done anything to take back his overt offer, but he sure as hell didn’t want to zone off and let her think he had lost his marbles again.

  “Awkward, maybe, but I like a man who isn’t afraid to take a risk.” She gave him a wink that wasn’t hidden this time.

  Amazed that she couldn’t hear the pounding in his chest, he tried to focus on what she’d just said. A risk. He’d stepped out of his comfort zone, just like he had with Anna. All these years later, when he thought life had slipped through his fingers like sand, another beauty had captured his heart. Maybe not love at first sight, but he was certainly smitten by the spirited redhead.

  Mary reached out and touched his elbow. “That would be nice, Gavin. Thank you.”

  He resisted the temptation of leaping off his feet and pumping his fist in the air. Instead, he winked back with an earnest smile. “Outstanding. And I promise to leave my awkward self at home.”

  “It’s okay. I think I like the real Gavin anyway.”

  They agreed to meet the next evening at seven. She insisted on going home first, saying she needed “to make myself presentable.”

  He couldn’t imagine how she could look any more perfect, but her insistence on tidying up for their initial date only made her more desirable.

  Whistling as if he didn’t have a care in the world, Gavin floated down the hall to pick up his keys to his ride for the day.

  He was humming to himself as he approached the vehicle clerk. “Hi, Sally. I’ll take the same as usual. Number thirty-two. Turns out that’s been my lucky number all along.”

  Sally removed her glasses and they dangled from a chain. “Can’t give it to you today, Gavin. Tyler just picked up those keys, saying something about how he was given seniority this week because of some contest he won.”

  Clenching his jaw, Gavin just shook his head, knowing Tyler had only done this to get under his skin.

  “What a prick,” he said under his breath.

  “Yeah, I got to agree with you on that one.”

  He quickly glanced back through the window. “Hope I didn’t offend you.” He offered an uncomfortable chuckle.

  “No problem. Sorry we broke your streak of days riding the same vehicle. Here’s number seventy-one. It’s four rows down from your regular ride.”

  Gavin picked up the keys and blew out a breath, realizing now was as good a time as any to break free from old habits.

  “Hey,” she said, getting his attention as he turned away. “I won’t let that prick fool me again. In fact, tomorrow I’ll give him fifteen...you know, the one with the crappy transmission and brakes that squeak so loud it feels like your head is being drilled.”

  “I’ll look forward to watching him drive off.”

  “Have a good shift, Gavin.”

  After a quick chat with another colleague and a run to the restroom, Gavin exited the rear door, nearly bumping into three ladies deep in discussion.

  “We hear that we’ve got a Casanova working amongst us. I wonder who that is.”

  Gavin stopped in his tracks and glanced to his right where he saw the chubby, rose-colored cheeks of Brandy, a jolly woman who’d always been quite proud of her “junk in the trunk.” Usually harmless, she always offered a couple of humorous comments during any given workweek. Now, it appeared that Gavin might be the recipient of this week’s comedy.

  Momentarily, he felt that tug of apprehension, questioning if Mary might have shared their little moment, or even made fun of it.

  Brandy must have seen the look on his face. “Ah, come on Gavin. Don’t think for a minute that your refined lady friend spilled the beans about your upcoming date.”

  “Have a good ride, everyone.”

  All heads, including Gavin’s, turned to see Mary approaching her vehicle, waving. He could see her smile from a hundred feet away.

  “You, too, Mary,” Brandy said, turning back to Gavin and the others. “You see, she’s just the salt of the Earth.”

  He pulled up closer to the three women, a smile cracking his face. “She sure is. So did a little birdie tell you about our...discussion?”

  “Hell no. I just happened to be walking down the hall, and I saw your touching moment.” She put a hand over her heart and cocked her head to the side, then she howled with laughter and slapped high-fives with her friends.

  “Okay, ladies, go ahead and give me a full dose of your sarcastic comments. Go ahead, get it out of your system.”

  He flipped his fingers toward his body, as if he was waiting for their first verbal jab.

  “You’re cracking me up, Gavin. What’s gotten into you? You usually don’t like to join in our little games.”

  He put his hands on his chest. “Who, me? I’m the life of the party, right?”

  All three women rolled their eyes.

  “I get it. I don’t usually join you guys for many happy hours or team bowling events.”

  “Where did the real Gavin go?” Brandy asked, her eyes wide as she tugged on his jacket and looked behind him. “Hell, you’ve said more today than you have in the sixteen years I’ve been working here.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and could still see Mary’s red locks through the car window. His pulse skipped a beat.

  “Oh my, Gavin. You, son, are completely smitten.”

  His palms faced the sky, and he shrugged his shoulders. He couldn’t have wiped the smile from his face if he wanted to. “Guilty as charged, Brandy.”

  The group session broke up, knowing it was time to hit the road. As they walked off to their cars, Brandy said, “Where you going, Gavin? Your lucky number thirty-two is up this way.”

  “Not today.” Gavin glanced over and saw Tyler’s white teeth as he got into the number thirty-two vehicle. “Tyler decided he wanted to break my habit of using the same car every shift.”

  “Why, that little prick! Why does he think he’s got to be such a bully to everyone?”

  “I don’t know. Because he’s lacking in other areas?”

  She hooted again. “Later, Gavin.”

  Proud of himself for not harping on Tyler’s latest offense too badly, Gavin flipped on his heels and headed for his new ride for the day, whistling one of the old Irish tunes, “Oh Danny Boy.”

  A split second later, an invisible force sent him airborne. An eruption from behind him. His eyes spotted flames as he tumbled to the ground, feeling an instant stabbing pain in his chest. Looking down, his chest was peppered with tiny pieces of thin metal.

  He jerked his head up and quickly realized where the explosion had come from.

  “Tyler,” he said with pain in his voice.

  Wait, where was Mary?

  He could hear moans all around him.

  Amidst the pluming clouds of gray smoke and charred metal and
rubber, he could see that the epicenter of the bomb had taken out everything around it. Mary was two cars over. He jumped to his feet as the smoke caused him to choke, his vision now cut in half. He held his breath and moved closer, feeling the heat of the flames on his face.

  “Mary,” he called out.

  More moans and disgusting cracks of metal and plastic.

  Shuffling forward as his eyes watered from the polluted smoke, he yelled with everything he had. “Mary, can you hear me? Tell me you’re okay!”

  Thirty feet from the number thirty-two vehicle, he saw Mary’s car on the other side...or what was left of it. The right half had been destroyed, but he could see her red hair. He ran around the flames, his shoes crunching on glass and other metal scrap. As he approached Mary’s car, he could see her torso leaning out of the open door. He fell to his knees.

  “Mary, Mary, are you okay?”

  Lifting her head, he saw nothing more than a cavity. Her face had been blown off.

  He fell backward against a tire as tears singed the burns on his skin.

  The bombs from Derry and Belfast had returned. He would never escape his past.

  11

  “Morning, Alex. Hope everything is okay.”

  With his frosted air billowing skyward, I quickly spotted Mr. Dunkleburger leaning over the row of hedges that divided our properties, a pair of clippers in his gloved hand.

  I paused for a quick moment on the path between our detached garage and the house, my heavy purse still swinging at my side, almost scraping the ground, initially mortified that I’d been caught in only my pajamas and robe. I immediately tried to rake my fingers through the tangled mess on my head, then caught a whiff of my own breath and almost gagged. While I knew my dragon breath wasn’t foul enough to travel fifty or more feet, my face could have scared a zombie.

  “Hey, Mr. Dunkleburger,” I waved a hand while keeping my face down. I wondered why he was asking if everything was okay.

  Then it hit me—I quickly determined that I looked like I was auditioning for The Walking Dead, I was sure of it. He was either frightened for me or frightened of me.

  “Okay, just making sure, since...you know.”

  That was an eighty-year-old man’s way of saying the sheer sight of me early in the morning with baggy pajamas, a stained robe, and matted University of Texas slippers had not only interrupted his daily routine but left him with a disturbing impression.

  “All is good. Tell Mrs. Dunkleburger hello,” I said, slipping through the back door and into the kitchen before he could respond. Once inside, I puffed out a breath and realized my shoulders had been frozen into a clamped position, the kind that takes all of your muscles and tendons and twists them into an excruciating, splintery knot. Another Boston winter that never ended, digging its blustery, tattered nails in for one final push.

  As I reached behind my back to find the center of said knot, I caught my own reflection in the microwave door. While I was one scary sight, I came to the conclusion that Mr. Dunkleburger probably thought he needed to look after me, even months after Mark’s death. I didn’t think he’d ever grasped the fact that I was an FBI agent and fairly capable of taking care of myself. Probably had something to do with him being eighty and me being a woman.

  I released a yawn that would make lions proud, then scratched my backside. I needed coffee.

  “Alex, why did you let me sleep in like that? You know I enjoy taking the kids to school.”

  Ezzy shuffled to the kitchen from her bedroom, looking a bit more disheveled than usual.

  “Because you needed the sleep, Ezzy. You’re not Supergirl. I hope that doesn’t offend you.”

  I plodded over to the sink and filled the coffee pot with water.

  “The only person with super-human anything in this house is you. You were up till how late last night doing your little surveillance thing?”

  “Eh, not that late.”

  “I think I heard the alarm beep around one, or was it two?”

  I slipped the coffee pot onto the burner, shoveled out five scoops of ground cinnamon-flavored coffee into the top, and punched the button. “It really wasn’t that bad, Ezzy. Just doing my job,” I said, as an image of Jerry hugging his buddy outside Finnegan’s Tavern shot through my mind, followed by a replay of what I heard his friend say: If you don't stand for something you will fall for anything. The same phrase from the flyer in Jerry’s car.

  I glanced out the window and saw Mr. Dunkleburger using a level on top of his perfectly trimmed hedges. “Man, that guy is anal. I guess that’s what you do when you retire,” I said, turning to face Ezzy.

  Her hand slapped the bar counter as her knees wobbled and her mouth hung open.

  “Ezzy!” I lunged to her side and caught her in my arms before she hit the floor, then scooted her over to the kitchen chair.

  “Ezzy, are you okay?”

  Her eyes were dilated, her breathing labored. “I’m okay. I’m okay,” she repeated, both of her palms flat on the table.

  I rested my hand on her back. “Ezzy, you’re not okay. Should I call nine-one-one?”

  She blinked a couple of times. “Maybe some water would be nice.”

  “You’re not going to fall to the floor, are you?”

  “Alex, I’m just a little dizzy, not ditzy.”

  She tried to laugh as her chest continued to lift at a quick pace. Keeping one eye on her, I ran over to the cabinet, grabbed a glass, poured some water, and was back at her side in five seconds max.

  “Thank you.” She barely got the words out before she tipped her head back and downed the entire glass. When she finished, water dripped from her mouth.

  “Is that better?”

  She appeared to be looking at the fruit bowl, or was she just staring at nothing?

  “Ezzy, are you drifting off?” I wondered if she was about to pass out.

  Her hand smacked the table, and I flinched. “Ah shit!” she exclaimed.

  She slowly turned and faced me. “I forgot to take my pill last night.”

  “Where are they?”

  “In my bathroom, right next to the sink. I keep them there so I won’t forget to take one every night. This old mind of mine is just not working right.”

  I’d play life coach in a minute. I ran to her bathroom and grabbed the pill bottle. As I jogged back through her bedroom, my eyes caught the heart surgeon material spread out on her bed. I paused for a split second and spotted that obnoxious shot of the doctor leaning against his fancy sports car.

  “Here you go,” I said, handing her the pill.

  She took it and set the glass down on the table with a little extra force.

  “You okay?”

  She shook her head and closed her eyes. “Doctor said I might get lightheaded if I forgot my pill. My heart was fluttering there a bit. But I’m fine now, at least physically.”

  I rested my hand on her shoulder. “Ezzy, you’re human. It’s no big deal.” As soon as I said the words, I wondered if I meant them. What if I hadn’t been at home? She could have fallen and hurt herself...or worse.

  “Alex, you and I both know that you can’t trust me to help run this house and take care of the kids if I can’t remember to take my pill. I’m so sorry.”

  “Quit beating yourself up.” Part of me wanted to ask why she was still studying the surgical material if she actually was okay, only needing to take the pill on a daily basis.

  She took a few more breaths, and color came back to her face. She stood up and started walking.

  “Are you sure you should be walking around? Maybe you want to take a nap, or rest on the couch in the living room. I can turn on the TV for you.”

  Suddenly very agile, she turned on her heels, pushed her sleeves upward, and wagged a finger at me.

  “Alex Troutt, I am not your child. I appreciate what you’ve done to help me, but you can’t spend all of your time worrying about little old me.”

  I nodded as a smile came to my lips.

 
“What?” she asked with a hint of indignation.

  “I wondered where you’d gone there for a few minutes.”

  She set her hands on her waist, trying to maintain her stoic expression, then, slowly, she grinned.

  “This getting-old shit sucks, I tell you.”

  I went over and gave her a hug. She kissed my cheek. “Are you going to be able to pretend this never happened?” she asked, grasping my shoulders.

  I smirked, then said, “I’ll pretend it never happened if you can promise me you’ll come up with a foolproof method for not forgetting to take that magic little pill.”

  “Alex, remember, I could be your momma,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

  In many respects, it felt like Ezzy was my mother. During my short time with my real mother, I’d never felt much of a kinship. She was always wrapped up in her religion, and she never communicated with Dad or me. I couldn’t even recall her hugging me or speaking to me with affection. Not once.

  Ezzy snapped her fingers.

  “Did aliens from another planet take over your body while you were working last night?”

  “Not exactly, although it did seem like an out-of-body experience.”

  She opened her mouth for a second, ready to ask another question, I was certain. Then she waved her hand. “Oh, never mind. You won’t tell me anyway.”

  The coffeemaker beeped, and I gave her a quick wink before moving over to the counter and pouring coffee into two mugs. As I turned to hand Ezzy the mug with a picture of a beach on it, I could hear a pulsating buzz. Both of us turned our heads to my purse sitting on the floor by the fridge.

  “Work calls,” she said, sipping her coffee. “I’m going out to get the newspaper.”

  “Ezzy,” I called out as she rounded the corner into the living room. I took one step after her, then heard the incessant buzzing sound again. I jogged over and riffled through my purse until I found the phone.

  It was Nick. “What’s up, partner?”

  “Yeah, right. We’ll deal with that little charade later. But for now, get your ass to Brighton. There’s been another bomb explosion in the last hour.”

  “There’s a Catholic church in Brighton? Or did this maniac take out another priest at his home?”