THE ALEX FLETCHER BOXSET: Books 1-5

by Steven Konkoly

  “Yeah. Something’s not right about them. That’s really why I’m up past the witching hour. What are you doing up?” Alex asked.

  “I had to go to the bathroom, and I heard you talking to yourself in here. Kinda freaky.”

  “Yeah, I don’t blame you. It is kinda weird. Well, I think I’m done here for the night. Not much else to see out there. You need to get to bed, too. Busy day tomorrow.”

  “Really?” Ryan exclaimed.

  “No. Not really, but you should get your sleep anyway, so you’ll be rested up for your afternoon nap.”

  “Nice,” Ryan said dejectedly, “you had me hopeful there for a second.”

  “Hopeful for what? Until the pandemic lifts, all we should hope for are uneventful, boring days. Safe days. Task Force Fletcher’s mission is to make your life as dull and unmemorable as possible.”

  “Mission accomplished so far.”

  “Thanks. Now get back to bed. Love you, buddy,” Alex said, still kneeling in front of the window.

  Ryan surprised him with another hug. “Love you too, Dad,” he said and walked out of the office.

  Alex took another look through the scope. He heard Ryan close the bathroom door. “Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s going to stay boring for very long,” he whispered to himself, staring through the scope toward the Murrays’ house.

  Chapter 33

  Alex sat up in bed, exhausted, awakened by the doorbell ringing. It rang again, several times in fast succession. Kate stirred next to him.

  “Are you going go check that out?” she murmured.

  “Yeah. Give me a minute. How long has that been going on?” he asked softly.

  “A while, I think. I fell back…”

  “Hey, Dad? Someone’s been ringing the doorbell for like the last five minutes. Nonstop,” Ryan interrupted, suddenly appearing around the corner of the bathroom with Emily in tow.

  “Yeah, they woke me up, too. Is it the police again, Daddy?” Emily asked.

  Alex rubbed his eyes and got out of bed. “I don’t know, guys. I’ll check it ou—”

  His sentence was involuntarily cut off by a huge yawn.

  “Sorry…I’m zonked. I’ll check it out, guys. Why don’t you jump in here with Mommy and go back to sleep or watch some TV?”

  As Emily passed, he hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “Love you, sweetie.”

  “I love you too, dad,” said Emily, squirming away to get into the warm bed.

  “Stay in bed. No wandering,” he ordered.

  Alex watched them settle into bed with Kate, burrowing for warmth, one on each side of their mother. Another burst of doorbell blasts rang out. Peering out the front window cautiously, he saw no cars in the driveway and no one in the walkway.

  “See anything?” Kate asked, sounding a little more awake.

  “No. Whoever’s ringing the doorbell is standing right on the mudroom porch.”

  He headed over to the closet.

  “Careful, honey,” she said getting out of bed.

  “I know. Keep the kids up here. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  He passed the closet on the way out, deciding to grab both the shotgun and the pistol. Alex arrived at the bottom of the stairs and glanced at the front door curtains, still not seeing anyone.

  Turning toward the kitchen area, the shadow of a figure loomed beyond the blanket covering the slider door to their deck. He ducked behind the kitchen island and peeked over the counter. The figure moved to the kitchen window, which was partially covered with a flimsy, semi-transparent lace curtain. As doorbell rang again, Alex wondered if he could move fast enough to blast the head peeking through the window and still catch the guy on the front porch. Probably not.

  The kitchen shadow vanished, and Alex slowly peeked up over the island. Seeing no movement on the deck, Alex quickly moved to the mudroom. He thumbed the shotgun’s safety and leaned it up against the pantry door, just inside the kitchen, feeling for the pistol behind his back. Stepping into the mudroom he examined the man persistently ringing their doorbell.

  Dressed in a worn black leather jacket, the man took a step forward when Alex appeared. His dark brown, shoulder-length hair was stringy and matted, and he wore a brown and gray camouflage patterned baseball cap. The outfit alone disturbed Alex, but not as much as the man’s face.

  He stared into the man’s lifeless, bloodshot eyes. He had seen those eyes before, but not for a long time. The man’s eyes flicked to the left, returning quickly to Alex. At that moment, Alex knew his adversary was capable of anything.

  Not needing to know anything else about the man. Staring at the man for fewer than five seconds, he knew that the best outcome for the entire neighborhood would be a bullet between the eyes—right now. Alex knew that sooner rather then later, he’d be weighing this option again.

  Alex remained silent, letting the man initiate first contact. When the guy didn’t react to Alex’s silence, he started to second-guess the strategy. Staring at the man’s face more closely didn’t help the situation. His skin was pale, almost grayish, mottled with angry acne scars; broken blood vessels tracked across his reddish-purple nose. Hollow blue eyes sat underneath thick eyebrows and a deeply wrinkled forehead.

  “Is this how it’s gonna be around here?” the man yelled loud enough to be heard through the two doors.

  “How’s what going to be?” Alex replied.

  “This,” he said with a minor hand gesture and a queer smirk, “nobody answering their fucking doors. We’re gonna need some help. It was a long trip up from Mass.”

  “Had to change cars a few times?” Alex asked.

  The man cracked a sly smile. “The Murrays didn’t exactly leave anything useful behind,” he said.

  “I don’t think they were expecting squatters,” Alex said and crossed his arms.

  “So, are you gonna help us out, or not?” the man asked, and his smile dissolved.

  “Look, you’re not going to find any help around here. Everyone’s struggling, and there’s nothing to go around,” Alex said.

  “You don’t look like you’re struggling,” he said, never taking his eyes off Alex’s.

  The man’s eyes suddenly darted to the right. A bolt of fear hit Alex, as he remembered the other guy out back. He glanced to his left, at the door to the garage, knowing that the door was locked with a deadbolt. Same with the exterior door to the garage, thereby preventing a sneak attack on him.

  “You’d be better off heading further upstate. Trust me. No one’s happy to see you here. You, or your friend back there,” Alex said, motioning with his head toward the back of the house.

  “So you’re not gonna help?” the man pressed.

  “No.”

  “I’ll remember that,” the man said, nodding his head. He pulled a folded sheet of slightly crumpled yellow legal paper and a pen out of an interior jacket pocket. Alex recognized the green and yellow TerraFlu pen. The guy must have lifted it from Greg’s house.

  He unfolded the paper and started writing.

  He’s making a list and checking it twice. Gonna find out who’s naughty or nice. Scumbag man is coming to town. He knows if you’ve been eating, he knows if you have heat…

  Alex started to smile as the tune played out in his head.

  “Something funny?” the man stopped writing to yell.

  “Nope,” he said and paused, “I don’t want to see you guys around this house again.”

  “Or what?” the man said. He folded the paper back up into his jacket pocket.

  Alex just shrugged his shoulders. He considered telling the guy to stay away from Ed’s house, but decided against it. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but his gut told him that it would be a mistake, that it could possibly have the opposite effect. The man watched Alex with dead, cold but calculating eyes for a few more seconds before he turned around and left the mudroom stoop.

  Alex watched him walk through the bushes in front of the walkway toward Ed’s yard. A s
econd man dressed in black jeans and a faded woodland patterned camouflage jacket joined him as he reached the far left edge of Alex’s house. The second man’s bright red and blue knit cap stood in stark contrast to both of their outfits.

  Alex scrambled back into the kitchen, nearly knocking over the shotgun, and grabbed the cordless phone. He dialed Ed’s number.

  “What’s up, man?” Ed answered.

  “I don’t have time to explain, but whatever you do, do not answer the door in the next couple of seconds. Don’t even go downstairs. The nutcases we saw last night just cased my house and rang my doorbell for like ten minutes. The guy I talked to at the door looks like a pure sociopath. Real scary.”

  “I’ve been watching them work their way around the block. One guy goes to the front door, and the other guy snoops around the back. I don’t think anyone’s answered their door,” Ed said.

  “We need to start calling around the block to make sure no one does. I’m telling you, man, the guy at the front door looked scary. I’ve seen his look before and it scares me to see it again. This is not the kind of guy you want setting foot inside your house. Trust me,” Alex said.

  “I didn’t plan on letting him in—”

  “I wouldn’t even show your face. A guy like this feeds on fear. If he senses hesitation, a lack of confidence, any weakness at all, he’ll act on it immediately. At the minimum, he’ll exploit it later, when he’s truly desperate, which might not be too far away. I don’t think they brought any food with them.”

  “Geez, he’s already ringing the doorbell. Alex, I’ll call you in a little bit. I need to make sure no one answers the door.”

  “Gotcha. I’m gonna let them know you’re not going to answer. That nobody will answer their doors. Start making calls to everyone on the outside of the loop. I’ll take the inside,” Alex said.

  “Okay, will do. Later.” Ed hung up.

  Alex returned to the mudroom and contemplated what he had just told Ed, wondering if going outside was a smart idea.

  He had two main concerns. His first consideration was the third male adult that Charlie had seen in the car. If a third guy was following a few houses behind the first pair, he could be taken by surprise from behind. Ed had only seen two guys, but Ed probably wasn’t looking for a third.

  He reached behind his lower back and adjusted the sweatshirt to cover the pistol, just in case the third man was watching.

  The other concern was less immediate, but no less troubling. He was fairly confident that he’d already made this man’s shit list, but by drawing even more attention to himself, he was likely to end up at the very top of the list.

  He slipped on his sandals, unlocked the mudroom door’s deadbolt, and stepped through both doors onto the mudroom stoop. A frigid wind whipped into the semi-enclosed stoop, biting into his hands and stinging his face.

  Alex stepped down onto the walkway and faced the Walkers’ house. The Walkers’ mudroom stoop was blocked from his view by their garage, forcing Alex to move several feet into his own front yard. He could see the backside of one man standing at the Walkers’ mudroom door, the man’s outfit confirming that he was the same man that had rung Alex’s doorbell. His accomplice was busy peering into the windows.

  “Hey, Manson!” he yelled over the wind.

  The man turned around slowly and took a few steps toward Alex. He wasn’t exactly sure how he’d react if the man continued to move toward him. The man didn’t answer, only nodded his head upward once, and stared at Alex.

  “The word’s out, and nobody’s gonna answer. You’d be better off moving on to a happier hunting ground,” he yelled at the man.

  “And I have you to thank for this hospitality?” he asked, reaching quickly into his coat pocket.

  Alex stiffened and fought every impulse to grab his pistol. In a fraction of a second, Alex’s logical side overrode the irrational. His hand only managed to move a few inches back along his right leg during the mental battle. If the man drew a gun, he could negate the man’s advantage by darting to either side and pulling his own weapon. At that point, it would be an even shooting match…or maybe not. The man could be an excellent shot, or he could have no experience at all. Alex figured it more likely that the man knew his way around firearms. Either way, his instinct was to actively avoid a pistol duel at twenty meters with anyone, especially out in the open.

  A flash memory of the man’s yellow legal paper, located on the same side of the jacket settled the struggle, and his hand stayed alongside his leg. The man pulled the notepad and pen out of a pocket inside his jacket, and Alex felt his body start to relax.

  He started to write in the notepad again.

  “You gonna give me a ticket for my lack of hospitality?” Alex asked with the start of a grin.

  “Just keeping track,” Manson said and put the notepad back inside his jacket.

  Alex watched the man’s movements closely and decided to head back toward his house.

  “Not much left here to go around. You might have better luck up north. Less people, less problems…”

  “We ain’t goin’ nowhere. Not with a storm coming in,” the man interrupted, looking up at the thick gray sky.

  Alex’s eyes followed skyward as another gust of frigid northern air washed over the neighborhood, bathing him in arctic air. He fought the urge to shiver and thought about the impending storm, a low pressure burst of warm, tropical air, soon to collide with this stationary high-pressure system. A storm of this size could be a disaster for anyone already living on the edge.

  He shrugged and started to back up toward his mudroom door, never turning his back on the man. Just as he reached his mudroom, the second man came into view from around the far side of Ed’s house. He walked up to Manson, and they started talking. They both glared at Alex with intense hatred for several seconds before walking across Ed’s yard to the Andersons’ house.

  Alex stepped inside the mudroom and locked both doors, quickly entering the garage to verify that the doors were still locked and dead bolted. He tested the three windows to make sure they were secure.

  Satisfied with the garage, he walked back into the mudroom and locked the door behind him, doorknob and deadbolt. Then he walked back over to the mudroom entrance door and checked the locks again, despite the fact that he locked them less than two minutes before. He glanced at the garage door again and shook his head, before kicking off his sandals and heading upstairs to check in with Kate. After that, he’d start making some calls to the neighbors on the inner loop. Alex rounded the bedroom corner and saw Kate and the kids burrowed under the covers.

  “What was going on out there?” murmured Kate.

  “Just the new neighbors. The Manson family replaced the Murrays,” he said.

  “That bad?” she asked, poking her head out of the covers.

  “Maybe worse. Their front man looks extremely dangerous. I haven’t seen a wild look like that in a long time. We’ll need to have a serious talk about nighttime security around here. I gotta make some calls. Ed and I are warning the neighbors not to open their doors to these guys,” he said and walked out of the bedroom.

  ***

  Alex peeked out of the family room window scanning down the street and peering between houses. He tried settling his eyes on stationary objects to activate his peripheral vision. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary besides an increasingly menacing dark gray sky. The neighborhood was once again quiet after the surprisingly brief influx of refugees from the south.

  He had convinced himself early on Friday that they would be forced to deal with slow-moving vehicle traffic for days and was now pretty sure that the weather forecast had something to do with the absence of travelers. Ryan’s footfalls on the staircase behind him interrupted his thoughts.

  “Grab a seat, buddy,” he said to Ryan.

  Ryan rolled over the back of the couch onto Emily.

  “Ouuuch. Cut it out, jerk!” she cried, kicking out both legs simultaneously.

  Ryan
caught both feet directly in the chest while upside down and was propelled off the couch, landing on his back. He sprung back up to retaliate, but was brought right back down to the ground by Kate, who had jumped up from her cozy leather chair a few feet away from Ryan. Alex watched Kate take Ryan off balance and gently ease him back down to the floor.

  “That’s enough for now,” she said calmly.

  Ryan didn’t physically protest and instead verbally lashed out at Emily. “That’s not fair! She had no right to kick me for real. I was just playing, and she could have paralyzed me!”

  “Quit being a baby!” Emily taunted.

  “Take it easy both of you!” Alex said.

  “But, Dad, she’s such a little—”

  “That’s it! I’m not kidding. If she doesn’t want you crashing into her ten times a day, then lay off. And you need to be more careful, pointing at Emily. This isn’t an ultimate fighting arena.”

  “But, Dad, someone needs to beat him down,” Emily said.

  “Nobody’s beating anyone down except for me,” Kate proclaimed, still holding Ryan to the ground. “If I let you go, do you promise not to attack your sister?” she asked.

  “Yes, Mom,” he answered unconvincingly.

  “I think you should just sit on him for the next few minutes,” Alex said, eliciting a shrill laugh from Emily.

  “Dad, you told her to knock it off, and now she’s laughing in my face!” Ryan cried.

  “Promise your mother you won’t retaliate, and mean it,” Alex said forcefully.

  “All right, I won’t bother her anymore. Sorry,” he muttered.

  “Thank you.” Kate released Ryan’s sweatshirt. “Now grab a seat away from your sister. We just need to go over a couple of new rules for the house. Something has changed, and we need to be more cautious.”

  “Is it those skuzzy people that moved into the Murrays’?” Ryan asked as he walked over to the other leather chair.

  “Yeah. Your mom and I are a little concerned.”

  “What’s wrong with them?” Ryan asked.

  “Are there any kids?” Emily added.

  “Uh, I’m not completely sure…about the kids. There might be some, but the problem is that one or more of the adults look dangerous. Not the kind of people we’re used to having around here at all.”