“She was sixteen,” said Andrew.
“We didn’t know that!” Matt shouted. Frustration made him bold. “It’s not like we check chicks’ licenses when they want to party with us. She looked twenty-something.”
“What happened next?” Andrew knew the answer, but he still wanted to know what Matt would say about it.
“I left to get another drink,” Matt said sullenly. “When I returned, she was screaming her head off and clutching her shirt closed. Jake was trying to calm her down. I figured they were having a spat, so I gave them some privacy.”
“You left the girl alone with him.” Andrew’s flat tone made his disapproval clear.
“He’s my friend. What was I supposed to do?”
“Help her.”
“You weren’t there, man,” Matt snapped. “So don’t lecture me on right and wrong. How about you? Kidnapping’s gotta be ten times worse than anything we did.” When Andrew failed to respond, the kid continued in a firm tone. “I didn’t touch her. I don’t deserve this. If you have a problem with Jake, take it up with him. Leave me out of it.”
Andrew gave the young man a hard stare, then put the gag back into place.
“I believe you,” he said.
Drawing his gun, he smashed it into Matt’s head, knocking the kid over. Next, Andrew grabbed the blanket and threw it over him. Finally, he stood, wrapped the gun in a towel, and shot the boy three times through the blanket. Even with the makeshift silencer, the gunshots sounded loud in his ears. Jake started screaming obscenities into the gag, but Andrew ignored him. Even if people heard the shots, nobody would do anything yet. When Jake started to stand, Andrew picked up the baton and gave his shins another solid smack. Tears of pain fell down Jake’s face. His features looked ghostly in the flashlight beam.
“Your time will come,” Andrew promised, “but you don’t get to exit so easily.” He cast a glance over to the backpack holding the fireworks he’d brought for the occasion. “Shall I start with the Black Cats or the Roman Candles?”
Jake’s eyes bulged.
“Would you like to say any last words?” Andrew wasn’t sure why he was giving the kid one more chance to talk civilly.
The boy nodded like a bobble head.
“Too bad,” said Andrew. “But I have something to do first. Enjoy your last few minutes of life.”
Remembering his ritual, Andrew settled on the ground and scratched off the three lottery tickets he’d brought with him. He’d pulled them from his stash earlier in the week. Even if he won, he probably couldn’t turn them in as it had been over a year since they were issued, but they fit the occasion. The Four Star Fifties ticket had been a July 4th special from a few years ago.
The rules were simple. In Game One, if the player’s area had four star symbols, the player won $50 automatically. In Game Two, the player needed to match an amount three times to win that prize. A star there would mean an automatic win for the amount shown, a double-star symbol would mean double the prize, a three-star symbol translated to triple winnings, and a four-star symbol resulted in quadrupled prize winnings.
“If you win, I set off the entire stash at once and you go up in a glorious blaze that will likely kill you quickly,” Andrew explained. “If I lose, I divide them differently to drag the process out.”
Jake’s breaths huffed out in labored gasps.
“I’m rooting for a win,” said Andrew. “You have three chances, one for each of the tickets. Since your friends are dead, I figured you deserve the three chances. I’ll even do you one better. If we win on two tickets, I give you more GHB before we begin. You might not feel a thing.”
Sweat broke out on Jake’s brow.
As he started scratching the Game One player’s area, Andrew stopped and tilted his head.
“Would you like to watch?” he asked Jake.
The boy shrugged like he didn’t care, but his eyes were desperate for information.
In another moment, Andrew sat next to Jake and angled the ticket so he could watch as the player’s area was slowly revealed.
They lost in Game One.
They lost in Game Two.
“That happens,” Andrew commented. “Can’t win them all, but you still have two more chances.”
Both games on the second ticket lost too.
Jake started mumbling against the gag.
“Do you want to go through with the last one?” Andrew inquired.
Jake’s muffled affirmative answer didn’t take much interpretation.
Andrew drew the dime down the Game One area in a cross pattern, dragging out the process. Then, he stopped and switched over to Game Two. Slowly, he drew the dime over the scratch off area. The first amount revealed was $2.00. The second amount revealed was $20.00. Andrew paused. That wasn’t a good sign for Jake. The lottery game makers liked to give prizes that sort of looked like each other on losing tickets. Wanting the sense of anticipation to last longer, he switched back to Game One. The first two symbols were a firework and a star. The next two were also fireworks. Game over. They’d never get four star symbols on Game One now. Andrew dutifully scratched off the other two symbols, revealing stars.
So close, but still a loss.
Jake groaned.
Returning to Game Two, Andrew swiftly swiped his dime over the next two money amounts, revealing $10.00 and $100.00. He stopped and stared, feeling in his gut this ticket would win. Eager to find out, he furiously removed the last of the stuff hiding the numbers.
Both amounts said $2.00.
Andrew met Jake’s eyes.
“This is going to be awesome,” he promised.
Without further ado, Andrew dug into the backpack until he pulled out ten Roman Candles and five strings of 100 firecrackers. Casting his eyes upon Jake, Andrew tried to think which would be better: setting the firecrackers off with the Roman Candles or vice versa. Coming to a decision, he propped Jake up with the backpack containing the empty fireworks containers.
Donning surgical gloves and a ski mask, Andrew draped a string of firecrackers across Jake’s lap, over each shoulder, and down each leg. He used zip ties to hold the strings in place as much as possible. Not quite satisfied with the handiwork, Andrew fixed some of the Roman Candles so they pointed into the boy’s center mass.
The flashlight was moved to Matt’s body so Andrew could put the food backpack outside. He had seven Roman Candles left. Taking out a small vial of hand sanitizer, Andrew emptied the contents onto Jake’s head.
Knowing this part would be dangerous, he pulled on thick work gloves and arranged the long, easy-strike match box on the ground next to him. Striking a match, Andrew watched the flame a moment, mesmerized by the fire’s beauty. He held the flame up in a pseudo-salute and farewell to Jake. Then, he lit the first Roman Candle in his hand and took aim.
Chapter 22:
Ten Bucks and a Dream
Melissa Novak’s Private Residence
Hillsborough, New Jersey
Sam arrived at Mel’s place around ten in the morning. Since he wouldn’t make it to a gym today, he’d settled for a quick two-mile run on the city streets of Philadelphia. The March weather so far followed logic nobody else could understand, but today had dawned 65°F and looked like it might break 70°F before noon. The previous week had featured a mixture of rain, ice, and snow. If the weather stayed nice today, maybe he could convince Mel to take him on a running tour through her neighborhood later. Thoughts of the possibility occupied him while he waited for her to answer the doorbell.
“You look chipper,” Mel noted as she swung the door open for him. She frowned at his nice jeans and preppy polo shirt. “I thought we were painting today.” It had become a tradition for them as often as they could arrange mutual time off, which admittedly was quite rare.
“We are,” Sam assured her. He gave an exaggerated sigh that drew both shoulders up in a semi-helpless gesture. “But my sister is still staying with me, and I was informed that I can’t go meet a lady wearing pain
ting crap.” Sam let his shoulders drop to a normal level and held up the gym bag he’d dropped to the ground while he rang the doorbell. “I have everything needed in here, and a spare suit in a different bag in case I can steal you away for a nice dinner this evening.”
Mel’s laughter lifted Sam’s mood to the clouds.
“I’ve got to meet your sister,” she said, stepping back and waving him inside. “I like her already.”
“You can keep her,” Sam offered helpfully. “You said you wanted a sister.”
“I wanted one when I was nine, so I could braid her hair,” Mel explained. She gave him a quick hug as he swept in. “I’m guessing she’s a little old for that.”
“She still sleeps in Hello Kitty pajamas, so you never know,” Sam said. He headed for the bathroom to change but stopped a step into the kitchen when a tiny figure dressed as Spiderman materialized before him.
“Who are you?” demanded the miniature Spiderman. Hands on hips, chest puffed out, and head held high, Spiderman regarded Sam with wide eyes.
“Eddie, mind your manners,” said a woman’s voice from the direction of the refrigerator. “Sorry, Sam,” called the voice. Josie appeared behind Spiderman and nudged the boy aside. “You can ignore us. This isn’t a weekend we were scheduled to be here, but Josh wanted to fish with some buddies. Can I offer you some of Mel’s eggs or blueberry pancakes?”
The wonderful smell of coffee wrapped around Sam.
“Do you have some extra coffee?” he asked.
“Of course,” Josie confirmed. “How do you take it?”
“Who are—” Eddie’s question cut off abruptly as his mother’s hand clamped over his mouth.
“Any way it comes,” Sam answered honestly. “Between the Marines and the FBI, I’m pretty sure I can drink anything called coffee.”
“I’ll take one too if you’re making it,” said Mel. “You know how I like my coffee, and somehow you always make it better than I do.”
“Yes, I can press that Keurig button so much better than you can,” said Josie. “Here, while I make your wimpy coffee—extra cream and a pound of sugar—you’re on Spiderman duty.” She picked Eddie up from behind and plopped him in her friend’s arms.
“I’m Spiderman!” Eddie declared.
Sam felt there was no other sane answer except to agree, so he nodded.
“You’re a mess,” said Mel. She carried Eddie over to the sink and picked up a damp washcloth. “Sam, you can go change if you want. As soon as I get this near him, he’s going to scream bloody murder.” Her eyes twinkled at him. “Run while you can.”
“Good idea.” Taking the out, Sam fled to the bathroom.
Eddie’s screams could be heard through the thin walls, but it was nice not to have to face the toddler’s wrath in person. In less than a minute, Sam changed into painting-appropriate clothes. The faded, hole-filled gym shorts had followed him since freshman year of college, and the T-shirt had been a fair freebie from back when time actually allowed him to take in such things. The bright yellow shirt bore two dots for eyes, a squiggle for a nose, and a slash for a mouth. According to Jenn, it made him look like a grumpy version of the sun. Other paint jobs had given the face some added character. He idly wondered what color would decorate it today.
After running a comb through his short hair, Sam ran his hands under cold water and rinsed his face. The face staring back at him looked ridiculously happy for someone who’d given up half their weekend to paint walls. It would be great. Mel’s attire and haphazard hair bun declared she would be right beside him. If the day proceeded as planned, this would be the most consecutive time ever spent in each other’s presence as the previous two painting dates had ended about midday.
By the time Sam returned to the kitchen for his coffee, the cleansing ordeal had passed, and Eddie sat in the family room in front of the TV.
“I’m going to take him for a walk soon, but Sal deserves his own walk first,” explained Josie, handing Sam a cup of coffee. “I put a little sugar and milk in it, but you can always add more.” She waved to the table where a container of milk and another of sugar waited to be useful.
Sam’s brows jumped slightly.
Noticing the reaction, Mel picked up and expanded on the explanation.
“Since the start of the renovations—”
“Otherwise known as forever,” Josie interjected.
Mel shot her friend a dirty look but shrugged agreement.
“It’s been a while,” she admitted. “Poor Sal’s been experiencing more of the basement and backyard exiles than he’s used to. Josie wants to walk him alone for once.” Peeking into the family room to check on Spiderman, Mel added, “The show should keep his attention while we work. Carley had a long night and should sleep a while yet. We’ll just have to break often to make sure Spiderman doesn’t find trouble.”
“He’s very good at that,” said Josie.
The morning painting session went well, despite the distraction of Eddie-watching duty. Mel’s prediction of the show holding the boy’s attention turned out to be false. As soon as he realized what they were doing, Eddie wanted to help paint. Mel dug up some clothes Eddie had sort of outgrown and changed him into them before consenting to let him near the walls. Sam knew they’d probably have to redo any section Eddie touched, but the sight of the boy’s delight made the extra work a small price to pay.
Eddie never got his morning walk, but he had a blast “helping” with the painting. He almost got Sal into the game, but Mel intercepted him as he approached the dog with paint-covered hands. The calming green color looked great on the walls, but Sam doubted the dog would appreciate a new color. Josie and Sal retreated to the family room to stay out of the way.
Lunch consisted of homemade pizza. Everybody had a fine time making a mess.
Afterwards, Eddie and Sal were gated into the family room while Josie cleaned up and Mel and Sam got back to work.
“We’re going to the park,” Josie announced, upon finishing the cleanup chore. “Just me, the boys, and my baby. Be very jealous. You two will be here completely alone. Can you handle that?”
“Yes, Josie. We’re big kids now,” Mel replied with a half-smile.
“You sure you don’t need a chaperone?” Josie wondered. She looked to Sam. “That face is dangerous.”
Predictably, he felt hot blood rush to his face.
“Go away,” Mel ordered her friend. She tried to avoid looking at Sam, but couldn’t help it.
They both sighed when silence stole over the house.
“Does she … always have that much energy?” Sam asked carefully. He dipped his paint roller into the pan to begin covering the tiny Eddie handprints dominating the lower quarter of the wall they were working on.
“Just about,” said Mel. “I think this might be a medium energy day. Full energy and she’d be vacuuming, dusting, or spraying every visible surface with disinfectant. I try to snag her on full-energy days. Saves me the trouble of hiring a maid.” Mel grinned to let him know she was kidding.
“How did you two meet?” Sam inquired.
“She grew up three houses down from us,” said Mel. She paused her painting to deliver the rest of the story. “Her parents divorced around the time a heart attack took my father, so we sort of clung to each other for support. She’s three years younger than me and two years older than my brothers, so she fit right in.”
“Thanks for sharing.” Sam’s phone emitted an old-fashioned ring before he could say more. Frowning, he made sure his right hand was currently paint-free before checking the caller’s identity. The phone read: Hatcher. Sam involuntarily straightened his shoulders and quickly stooped to put the paint roller down.
“What’s wrong?” Mel asked.
Sam shrugged to indicate that he didn’t know yet. He hesitated only a second more, knowing the call would change his afternoon plans drastically.
He had a job to do. Accepting that fact, Sam took the call.
“Agent Kerma
n,” he said crisply.
“Drop whatever you’re doing and get on the road,” Hatcher ordered, not bothering with pleasantries. “We’ve got three bodies at two drop sites today. Dr. Stratham and Jennifer will head to Red Rock Mountain to inspect that scene. I need you to meet the secondary team at World’s End State Park. I’ll text you the address.”
“Yes, sir.” Sam wasn’t sure his boss heard the acknowledgment before the call disconnected.
“There’s another body,” Mel stated. Paint from her neglected roller started to drip onto her left hand. Dropping the roller into the pan, she hastily wiped her hands on her shirt.
“More than one,” Sam said, still trying to absorb the fact.
Mel tried to mask her disappointment, but Sam could see it in her lovely blue eyes.
“Guess you’re leaving then,” she said. “Better go change into that suit you brought. I’ll fix you a coffee for the road.”
Finding no fault with the plan, Sam dashed out to his Camry and grabbed his other bag. Since this one always held a suit and rarely left his car, it wouldn’t be the freshest thing he ever wore, but it would be more appropriate than his painting gear. He changed quickly. As he knotted the tie, a gentle knock sounded on the bathroom door.
“Come in,” he called.
Mel entered and slipped something into his right jacket pocket.
“Thanks for coming by today. This is just a small thank you. I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while but kept forgetting.”
Their eyes met in the mirror.
“My father used to say you can do anything with ten bucks and a dream. He used to give us lottery tickets for special occasions. Guess it sort of rubbed off on me.” Mel encircled Sam’s waist with her arms and rested her head on his back for a moment. “Be safe out there, agent. I’m just getting used to having you around.”
Sam turned and gave her a quick kiss. The soft words sank into his soul and infused him with a new protective instinct. He needed to catch the bad guy because people like Mel shouldn’t have to share the free world with murdering wackos.
Scratched Off Page 15
