by CeeCee James
It was empty.
“I think it held some kind of thumb drive. Calvin was saying something about insurance,” I said. Was that what Justin Smith had been looking for when he was killed?
“Georgie! Where are you?” Stella called.
I flinched, hearing the panic in her voice. I ran to the doorway. “Up here! Are you okay?”
“Yes. No. Can you come downstairs?”
I jogged down. Officer Parker followed behind me. When he saw Georgie crying, but safe, he stepped back to give us space.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, shocked at the tears coursing down her face. This wasn’t from fear, this was something else.
“Oscar was just taken to the hospital. They think he had a heart attack.”
“Oh, no! Oh, Stella!”
Officer Parker stepped forward then. “I realize you need to go. Let me take a quick statement from you and then you can be on your way.”
She nodded. Quickly, she detailed what had happened between deep breaths and wavering words. While she spoke the door opened and a crew of forensic officers filled the room. It was noisy and chaotic for the last few minutes. Finally, Officer Parker released us, saying he’d be in contact if he needed more.
We hurried outside. Stella’s car was blocked in by two police officers and a detective’s SUV.
“Come on, we’ll take my car,” I said.
We hopped in. I drove her to the hospital in silence. It was a long drive. Stella mostly kept her eyes shut, after an occasional frantic search for new text messages. This was one of those times where I knew that comforting words wouldn’t be helpful. I was worried as well. Oscar had grown to be a good friend.
I found a parking spot in the garage. “Give me your keys. I’ll take a Uber back and get your car. You can have mine.”
She fumbled for her keys from her purse and handed them over.
“Can I come up with you?” I asked.
She shook her head. “They said only family at the moment. Uncle Chris said he would meet me at the elevators.” Even as she was speaking, she frantically typed on her phone. “He knows I’m here.” With that she lunged over and gave me a hug. “Thank you so much. I don’t think I could have actually driven, to be honest. I’m so shaken up.”
“Go take care of your Grandpa. It’s going to be okay.”
She headed out, and I got on the Uber app and ordered a car. Sighing, I shoved the phone in my pocket. I opened the door and hit the inside lock button before shutting it firmly.
A car drove by slowly. It was looking for a parking space, but it made me think about Calvin. I was a little spooked to be standing out here in the open, to be honest. Could he still be around? What if he saw me?
I’m safe, I reminded myself. I didn’t feel that safe. What was that he said about Mikey? I knew Mikey McCoy, the owner of Midnight Trucking. Or I knew of him. A horrible mob boss who ran the smuggling company.
It was the same company Derek had been working at a few months before he died. At the time, I thought they were a legitimate business that moved art safely. But now I knew any art they’d handled had been stolen. As evidenced by the painting in Calvin’s house, The Lover Spurned.
Calvin hadn’t seemed that interested in the painting, even laughed when I suggested that was what he was back searching for. Which told me the item he was looking for was infinitely more valuable than the painting. Was it just security secrets? And they were worth that much?
I bounced on my heels and covered my arms, a bit chilled. Where was that Uber? I wasn’t wearing anything but my nice blouse, the one I trotted out when I felt like I needed to look professional.
Back to the painting. Derek was supposed to haul it. But he’d died the day before the shipment took place. What did that mean?
I briefly considered if there was any possibility that Derek had been a thief. Could he have pulled the wool over my eyes to that extreme? I shook my head. I just couldn’t believe it. So, how did he get mixed up with Mikey?
And why was Calvin mixed up with him, as well?
Chapter 21
The wait for the Uber stretched to almost an hour. I chucked around the idea of texting Frank more than a few times. I really needed him, I needed to vent. Plus, on top of everything else, I was really upset about Oscar, too. However, I still had to get Stella’s car, so it wasn’t like I could let go and relax yet. I might have a complete melt-down. I’m sure he would freak out as well, and I wasn’t sure if I could handle his reaction through the phone. Last but not least, he was still at work. Who knows how he would take it. No, it would be a better to have face-to-face conversation.
Finally, the car arrived, with no apologies, and I was whisked away.
He dropped me off at Calvin’s house, after subjecting me to some really bad talk radio. The police had left and only Stella’s car remained in the driveway.
Immediately, the creepy feeling returned as the Uber drove away. The neighborhood seemed quieter than normal, as if even the birds were listening for trouble. I paused to listen myself. Where was everyone?
I shook off the thought and hurried toward Stella’s car.
Underneath the windshield wiper was a piece of paper. Something from the police? I lifted the wiper to discover it was a flyer for the house. I saw a note scribbled across the bottom.
I flattened it to read, “Don’t trust the bank manager.”
Who was that? Jonathan Twist? He had mentioned the bank was without a manager at the moment, and he was in charge. Did it have something to do with that crazy pen that Mr. Twist had been holding? Black Cat LLC. Also known as one of the companies that Calvin had worked for.
I turned the paper over. Who had left this here? Had it been Calvin? I looked around street and at the suburban homes, but saw nothing in the fading light.
I folded it up and got into the car. I was just about to start it when I saw my flower pot on the porch. It felt like ages since I’d left it there. Well, I wasn’t going to leave it now, not after all of this.
I walked toward the porch. Maybe after this I should visit the bank. I’d love to get some answers from Mr. Twist. But what could I really ask him? I could ask about the pen, but that would seem weird and obvious. I didn’t need to put myself in the crosshairs any more than I already was.
I briefly thought about calling the police. The note was confusing, though. Were they referring to the old bank manager or the acting one?
Honestly, all I wanted now was to go home and kick off these low heels, get a glass of lemonade and a book, and my rear into a comfy chair.
My phone buzzed as I took the steps. It was a text message from Frank. —How did today go?
I shook my head. What a loaded question. He had no idea the tsunami that was coming in form of the answer. I let him off easy for now. —I’ll call and tell you all about it later. Better yet, dinner?
—Sounds good.
I smiled as I tucked the phone away. I was so ready for tonight. The conversation tonight with Frank might be bumpy at first, but I knew he always had my back and would be sympathetic. Maybe I’d get another foot rub out of it.
As I stooped to get the pot, a shadow caught my peripheral vision. It disappeared around the side of the house as soon as I looked.
What was that? A cat? The shadow from a tree branch?
Cautiously, I walked to the end of the porch and peered around the side of the house.
Nothing was there.
Strange. I guess I’m jumpier than a two hares during spring time. I shook my head and bent to pick up the pot.
Then I heard a clatter in the back yard..
My hand froze, holding the sides of the planter. I strained my ears, trying to hear anything. Slowly, I stood, staring intently.
Nothing. Just creepy silence.
What do I do? Check it out? Call the police? What if it was a cat?
Don’t get involved. Walk away. My inner voice was insistent. “Right,” I muttered and carried the planter down the steps.
/>
I walked with determined steps to the car. Whatever was going on, I wasn’t going to get involved. If someone was breaking into the house, have at it. I was done with this place.
A child cried out.
At least I thought so. I held my breath to listen. A little girl…. maybe a boy. Soft whimpers from the backyard, barely louder than a rustling tree leaves.
Was someone’s child lost? I thought about the basement doors. When I’d last seen them, they were wide open. We’d never purchased a new lock for them. Had some kid tried to explore it and fallen down the stairs?
I placed the planter on the hood of the car. The sound had stopped.
Was I just imagining it?
No, wait. There it was again. Soft keening.
I tip-toed to the side of the house. Cautiously, I peered around the corner.
One side of the basement door was open.
The sound stopped. My heart hammered in my chest.
“Anyone back here?” I called.
No response.
“Are you hurt? Where are you?”
Still no answer.
Pulling my cell phone out of my pocket, I stood, uncertain. My hand hovered over the display of the keypad.
“Help!” the voice called. Definitely a little girl. I heard it loud and clear. And it was coming from the basement.
I took a deep breath and walked over to the entrance. “Where are you?”
I flipped the beam on and tried to flash it down the stairs. The pitch-black absorbed the light like London fog.
“Are you down here?” I called again.
Soft whimpers answered me. “I’m hurt. Please help me.”
That was it. I started down the gritty cement steps. “I’m coming. Hang on.”
I carefully went down the stairs, feeling the wall as I went. I knew there was a light switch at the bottom. “Are you okay?”
Soft snuffling sounds came from where I remembered the abandoned washing machine being.
I finally found the switch and flipped it on.
Nothing.
I tried it a few more times, but it only gave a few useless clicks. The lightbulb had burned out.
Swallowing, I directed the beam toward the appliances.
Something was over there, hunched on the floor.
Chapter 22
“Hey. You okay?” I ask, trying to see.
The shape shifted with muffled sobs.
I walked over, trying to watch my step around the empty boxes and piles of paper.
“Did you get hurt?”
I heard the soft sound of a foot scraping the ground.
Instantly, I froze. Something didn’t feel right. Why wasn’t she answering?
I backed up slowly, lifting my phone. I pressed 911.
“911 what is your emergency?”
The voice came through, sounding much louder than it probably was. I realized if I said anything, whoever was in the basement would hear me. My pulse thudded loudly. I tried to breathe slowly and moved back to the stairs.
“My name is Georgie Tanner.” I gave the address of the house. “Someone broke into the basement. I think a child. They may be hurt.”
I reached the stairs. Still staring at the dark corner, I felt with my foot for the bottom tread.
A hand grabbed my wrist, knocking the cellphone to the ground. I screamed as I was yanked forward to face a strange man.
He was dressed in black, but his face was uncovered. Ice-blue eyes and a toothy snarl which was only inches from my face.
“I knew you’d come back. Where is it?” he asked.
“I’m no one….the police are coming!” I shouted. “Let me go!”
I pulled, but he held me solid.
“Have you seen Calvin?”
“Who?” I feigned ignorance.
“Don’t play dumb with me! Have you found anything in here? Papers or thumb drives?”
“I don’t know..I...”
He held out a gun and pointed it at my head. “I said don’t play dumb.” He began pulling me under the stairs. “You know about this spot right here? I’m sure you do. Where are the other hidden cubby holes, huh?”
“I don’t know what you mean!”
“Shut up!” He shouted. “I've already found two more, one upstairs in the closet and one in the kitchen.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
He swung the gun around as he talked. “Are there more? Did you find anything? I know he’s been here. I know!”
I tugged on my arm and the gun swung back around. Cold chills ran down my spine. My mind raced, knowing the police would be on their way. I realized that down here in the basement we were like fish in a barrel, and it would very much become a hostage situation. He didn’t look like he’d care if he lived or not, let alone me. I had to get out of here, get him somewhere that would be easier for me to escape.
The garage.
I knew the garage had one of those boxes, the automated openers, and it had a button on the wall to open the door. If I could convince him to search there, I could open the door and use it as a distraction. I had to try.
“I think I know of one,” I breathed. “In the garage. Calvin said he needed access to the garage when I wouldn’t let him in the house.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re playing with me, I’ll shoot you. You won’t be the first.”
I suddenly realized where I recognized him from. The photo on the bank wall. The one calling him the manager. The one Jonathan Twist had said had disappeared, leaving him in charge.
“Move,” he said, pushing my shoulder.
I turned and headed up the stairs. I hoped this would work. Otherwise I was just moving the fish from one barrel into another.
He followed behind with the gun shoved into my spine. At the top, he hooked his finger under the collar of my shirt. The gun was still pointing at me, I could almost feel the dark hole of the barrel staring at me like an empty eye. He guided me to the back door that led into the kitchen.
I almost wept when I saw the laundry room door. I couldn’t believe I was back in here. I just couldn’t believe it.
He pushed me again I hadn’t realized my steps had stalled. We headed to the door that led out to the garage.
“Turn on the light and then put your hands back up where I can see them,” he said.
I did as he told me to. When we stepped into the empty room, my eyes scanned the walls quickly. I saw a panel in the corner where the water heater would be and pointed.
“Over there, maybe. I’m not sure, exactly.”
I wondered if the police would use sirens when they arrived. I knew they didn’t sometimes when they wanted to sneak up on the bad guys. However, today they were expecting a hurt child.
I swallowed and dared to ask, “Where was the little girl?”
He leaned close with a smirk. “You liked that, did you? It was a recording. I saw you pull up and knew you’d come running once you heard that. I just kept playing it over and over.”
He was so close the heat from his breath hit my cheek. I tried not to flinch.
“Are...are you the bank manager?” I asked.
His eyes swiveled back around to look at me. “Was. I was the bank manager. How did you know?”
“Your picture is on the wall.”
He grabbed my shirt and yanked me over to the panel. “Go ahead. Check inside.” He stood back and pointed the gun at me.
I know where the saying comes from of being so scared your knees knocked. My legs were as wobbly as newborn fawns. I could barely support myself.
Trying to force my hand to stop trembling, I reached up and opened the panel. Even I knew there’d be nothing behind it. Keeping the gun on me with one hand, he dipped his hand in, feeling around it.
“There’s nothing here. You’re wasting my time.” He turned back to me, his eyes darting from my face to different corners of the garage. “I think you’re lying.”
I heard something outside of the garage. Please be
the police. I needed to keep him talking to distract him. Maybe the name Calvin wanted his son to watch out for.
“Mikey McCoy,” I blurted out.
The change in him was instantaneous. I couldn’t have been more shocked.
Chapter 23
“So you know who I am,” he said.
I gasped. No, actually I didn’t. Was he saying what I thought he was?
“How did you know?” he asked.
Gulping, I bluffed. My brain was still trying to catch up to the conversation. “Midnight Trucking. Spurned Lovers.”
He actually lowered the gun at this point. A low chuckle rumbled him out of him. “I wondered when you figured it out. I’ve been watching you for years.”
“Watching… me?”
“Sure. Wondering what that fiancé said to you. He told you things, didn’t he?” He leaned close and stared into my eyes. “Tell me what you know. It’s no accident you’re here now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we always knew Derek Sommers was DEA.”
My blood froze. Derek… DEA? He never told me! Yet it explained so much.
“You knew that? Of course you knew that. What I can’t believe is that he had the nerve to think he could actually infiltrate our group, come waltzing in undercover by acting like some hokey truck driver, and we won’t notice. That could have been quite a problem- no? But he’s not such a problem now, is he?”
Anger filled my chest. But it wasn’t a hot anger. This time it was cold as steel. It drove all the fear away. I wanted to hurt him. And I knew the best way I could was to get evidence. I had to lure him into sharing information. He was so cocky, he was practically begging to tell me.
“I thought you were working with Calvin Dunham.”
His face flushed. “We have a deal. I gave him that painting as collateral.”
“Lovers Spurned?”
“A good faith present between friends.”
