Steal

by Jeff Elkins

  “Agreed,” Stacie said, sipping her coffee.

  “So, what is Proximity Surveillance?” Moe asked.

  “That is where my team keeps eyes on you, and I have an associate within engagement distance at all times,” Francine said.

  “We don’t see them. Other people don’t see them. But they are there, lurking in the shadows,” Stacie said.

  Moe leaned back again and said, “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

  “You’ll never know we’re there, until we need you to know,” Francine said with a nod.

  Moe looked at Stacie and nodded.

  Francine looked at Stacie.

  “Let’s do it,” Stacie said.

  “Excellent,” Francine said, as she pulled two keys and a small black clicker from the inner pocket of her coat and put them on the table. “As before, the clicker is a panic alarm. If you feel threatened at any time, click it and we will be there in seconds. The keys are for your new office. It is located at 122B Rekab Street. We need to get you into a more secure location. Additionally, in the future, that will keep potential assailants, who are looking for information on your cases, out of your home by giving them a juicier target to go after. There are two beds at the location and the landlord is an old friend. You’ll be staying there until this threat has passed. My team is currently at your houses packing bags for you.”

  “Wait. What? You’re at my house?” Moe asked with surprise.

  Francine leaned forward and looked Moe in the eye, “I understand these changes are sudden and unrequested. My job is to keep Ms. Howe safe. If you wish to continue working with Ms. Howe, you will need to allow me to do my job.”

  Stacie jumped in. “I know Francine can be aggressive, but that’s what I pay her for. This is the right thing. Last night was a warning. You know what these guys can do. They aren’t afraid to make it personal,”

  Moe bit her lip. What Stacie said made sense, but she didn’t like decisions being made for her.

  Stacie turned on the charm. “Please. Pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top? Pretty, pretty please with a cherry, ice cream, and chocolate syrup on top? Pretty, pretty, pretty please with a cherry, ice cream, and chocolate syrup, and marshmallow on top?”

  Moe’s irritation began to fade. She couldn’t stay mad at Stacie. Moe shook her head and asked, “What are you, four?”

  “Will it get me what I want?” Stacie asked with a sly grin.

  Moe laughed. “Fine. But only until the case is over.” Then remembering about Bosley, she turned to Francine and said, “You may want to warn your team that I have a guard dog. That’s probably why they didn’t break into my house last night.”

  “Bosely will show his belly to anyone that feeds him. We’ve already moved him to the new location,” Francine said.

  “Bosley! You traitor,” Moe mumbled to herself as she returned to her pancakes, suddenly very hungry.

  Francine stood. “Ladies. Good and happy hunting. And Ms. Howe, during today’s predictable therapy session, please remember that while hippy modernism and large layers are trending, classic silhouettes are much more flattering on you.” She nodded goodbye and marched out of the restaurant.

  Stacie smiled at Moe. “She loves me. And for a woman who only wears black pants suits, she knows a thing or two about fashion.”

  “You should have told me about all this before you called anyone,” Moe said.

  “It’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission,” Stacie said.

  “Besides, if we are going to be the A-Team, we needed a bad-ass Mr. T,” Stacie said.

  Moe pointed at her and said, “No more A-Team talk.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Moe and Stacie stood on the quiet tree-lined street in front of a modest two-story house. With most of the adults at work and the kids at school, the neighborhood was quiet. It seemed like a nice place to raise a family. The lawns were cut, the flowerbeds were weeded, and the rain gutters clean. The Hamilton neighborhood was once a suburb on the northeast side of the city, but it was slowly being consumed by the city. The stand-alone houses with modest front yards, large back yards, and welcoming front porches, still called back to a time when people moved here to get out to the suburbs and escape urban life.

  “What do you know about her parents?” Stacie asked, as she looked up and down the street.

  “Her dad was a high school math teacher. Her mom taught preschool. They met in high school and started dating in college. They bought this house shortly after getting married. Sarah was born here. There’s no scandal. No big secret. The most controversial thing about them is that Sarah’s dad was republican who became a democrat.”

  “An all-American family,” Stacie said.

  “Seems that way,” Moe said.

  “So why would a math teacher with a mortgage and a kid kill his high school sweetheart?” Stacie asked.

  “That’s the question,” Moe said.

  As Moe crossed the yard, she remembered how her cape fluttering behind her as she ran on Halloween. She remembered Sarah’s dad lifting her off the ground and protecting her from the skeleton. She could feel his warm arms around her. He felt safe.

  Moe climbed the front steps and peered through the window next to the door. The house was a mess. Furniture was overturned. Glass from a broken picture frame was scattered across the entryway floor. It appeared no one had been inside since the night Sarah’s mother was killed. Moe could feel the pain of sorrow in her gut.

  “You think we can get in?” Stacie asked, joining Moe on the porch. She jiggled the door handle, but it was locked.

  “I don’t know that we would find anything even if we could. I mean, I don’t know about you, but I don’t know the first thing about crime scene investigating,” Moe said. She turned away from the window and scanned the street. She looked at the white house next door. “Mr. David,” she said to herself.

  “Who’s that?” Stacie asked, trying to follow Moe’s line of sight.

  “The neighbor. Let’s see if he’s home,” Moe said, as she bounded down the steps and across the yard. It took her a lot less time to get there than it had taken her in Sarah’s memory of Halloween. She pulled open the screen door and knocked. There was rustling inside. She knocked again.

  To Moe’s shock, the door was not answered by the kindly elderly man with a mustache. Instead, a young woman opened the door. Her hair was braided, and she wore overalls and a purple crystal around her neck. “Can I help you?” the young woman asked.

  Taking a step back, Moe said, “I’m looking for David.”

  “And what is this regarding?” the woman asked.

  Moe didn’t have an answer. How would she be able to explain what she was doing here? She was thankful when Stacie jumped in.

  “Were looking into the murder that happened next door,” Stacie said with a smile.

  “Such a horrible thing,” the woman said, shaking her head.

  “It was,” Moe said.

  “The police have already come by,” the woman said.

  “We’re not with the police,” Stacie said.

  “Who are you with then?” the woman said.

  “We work for the child. For Sarah,” Moe said.

  The woman cocked her head in confusion.

  “My name is Moe Watkins. This is Stacie Howe. We’ve been hired by the family’s estate to look into what happened. We’re private…,” Looking down at the woman’s crystal, Moe decided to change her approach and quickly recovered, “Privately funded Psychic Investigators.”

  “You’re psychics? Really?” the woman asked. Moe could see the spark of excitement in the woman’s eyes. She’d hit pay dirt.

  “She’s a psychic. I’m just her assistant,” Stacie clarified.

  “We were talking with Sarah, the little girl who lived next door, and she thought David might know something. Maybe he saw something?” Moe said.

  “I’ve never talked to a real psychic investigator before. I mean, I’ve had my cards read,
and I go to Madam Bellfrey on Harford Road for my regular reading. She’s up by Anita’s Dance Studio. Do you know her? Her insights into my energies are amazing. And she told me that this month I’ll be part of something really important, so maybe this is it?”

  “It must be,” Stacie said.

  “Well, shoot. I’m really sorry to tell you this, but my dad, David, he can’t really talk. I mean, the doctors are hopeful. He’s in physical therapy, but right now, he’s not really getting much out right now,” the woman said.

  “What happened?” Moe asked.

  “He had a stroke. It’s really tragic. He’s always been as healthy as a horse, but then all of a sudden, BAM! Blood clot in the brain,” the woman explained.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” Moe said.

  “Do you think we could still see him? Maybe Moe here could work some of her psychic mojo with him and get a read from him,” Stacie said.

  “Oh. Absolutely! How silly of me. Come in. Come in. I’m Darlene by the way,” the woman said, motioning them inside.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Darlene,” Moe said, as she followed the woman through the entryway and up the stairs.

  Darlene led Moe and Stacie to a dimly lit bedroom. The drapes were drawn and the lamps on the end tables were both off. The only light in the room came from the hallway behind them. In the middle of the room, laying on a queen-sized bed was the man Moe had seen in Sarah’s memory. He was thinner, his hair was uncombed, and the left side of his face drooped, but Moe was sure it was him. She walked to the side of the bed and said, “David. My name is Moe. I’m a friend of Sarah’s.”

  “She’s a psychic,” Darlene said.

  David began to moan and push at Moe with his good arm, but he wasn’t strong enough to actually move her.

  Darlene moved across the room to the other side of the bed. Picking up a Styrofoam cup next to the bed, she put the straw to her father’s lips. He tried to protest, but Darlene ignored him. “I’ve had to move in here to take care of him because he’s so weak. We’re not sure when this happened to him. The cops found him in the garden out back when they were canvasing the neighborhood. He was pressed up against the back fence. The cops said maybe he ran outside during the commotion next door and had a stroke before he could make it over there.”

  David finally gave up and took a sip from the straw.

  “So what will you need? Do you need candles? Or I have some crystals that are pretty powerful. I got them from a shaman in Arizona when I went to visit the Sedona Vortexes, which were amazing. Have you ever been out there? The energies running through that place are… indescribable,” Darlene said, as she put the cup back on the end table.

  “I don’t need anything. Thank you,” Moe said. Turning to David, she said, “I’m sorry to do this. I hate just jumping in, but this is important. I promise it won’t hurt. I need you to think about what happened next door.”

  David tried to push off her with his arm, again. Moe grabbed his arm, held it tight, closed her eyes, and searched for Sarah.

  Her hands were covered in dirt. The sun was warm on her face. Her knees ached from kneeling in the soil, but it was a good ache. She looked up into it and let it heat her skin. She was in the garden in the backyard. Her fingers found the worm she’d been looking for. She gently pulled it from the ground. There was laughter to her right. She held out the worm and said with David’s voice, “This is a good bug. We don’t kill them because they help the ground.”

  Sarah laughed and pointed at the worm. “It’s wiggly.” She touched it. Moe adored the joy on her face.

  The memory faded as Moe pushed it away. It was unhelpful. She reached back into David’s mind, this time looking for Sarah and the feeling of fear.

  It was cold. Fall. The wind brushed her cheek. There was a kind voice talking to her. Her vision became clearer. It was Matt. Sarah’s father. Moe heard that beautiful laugh and glanced to the right to see Sarah fly down the sidewalk on her bike. She was going too fast, but David didn’t want to say anything. Sarah wasn’t his kid after all.

  “So, do you have plans for Thanksgiving?” Matt asked, as he pulled bags of groceries from David’s trunk.

  “We’re all going over to Darlene’s house,” Moe said in David’s voice.

  “That sounds nice,” Matt said, as he lifted four bags from the trunk.

  “We’ll see. She said something about doing fish instead of turkey,” Moe grumbled.

  “Mmm. I’m sorry. We’re eating at five if you can get away. Plenty of room at our table,” Matt said.

  David loved that idea. “Ask Mandy to keep a place warm for me?” Moe said and smiled.

  Sarah flew by again. She really was riding too fast. It made David’s stomach hurt. What if she fell? She didn’t even have a helmet on.

  Moe grunted in frustration as she pulled out of the memory. She needed something else. Diving back into David’s mind, she passed by fear and went looking for terror instead.

  There was a crash. Moe sprang up. She was in bed. She listened to the darkness, trying to hear the source of the noise. She looked at the clock on her end table. It read 3:45. She wondered what could be happening at this hour.

  She reached over to the lamp and clicked it on. There was more rustling. It sounded like it was coming from outside. She put her legs over the side of the bed and put her slippers on. She could hear male voices. They were trying to be soft, but she could still make out their voices. Her heart pounded in her chest. She put on her robe and moved toward the stairs.

  She heard Matt’s voice. He yelled. He sounded angry. Moe ran through the kitchen. Her old hands fought with the lock. She heard more yelling. She was desperate to get it open, but the chain was difficult to slide. It finally gave way. She yanked the door open and dashed into the night.

  She looked at the house. It was dark, but she could see the shadows of people moving in the living room. She pulled her robe around her and walked cautiously toward the gate. There were angry voices, but Moe couldn’t make out what they were saying. She stared at the house, trying to see more in the darkness. The front door was open. That was strange. Why would the front door be open?

  She thought back to the fights she’d had with her wife. The yelling and breaking plates. There was that time she’d thrown a lamp. A wave of regret washed over Moe. She hesitated at the gate. What if this was just Matt and Mandy fighting about something. Moe thought maybe she shouldn’t get involved. She waited at the gate, listening.

  Matt yelled again, and Moe’s heart stopped. It wasn’t the sound of anger. It was the sound of fear. He was begging. Moe could hear Mandy crying. She flipped the latch of the gate and pulled it open. It scraped the ground. She’d been meaning to fix it. She lifted it and pulled with all her might.

  As she stepped through into the front yard, she froze again at the sound of two earth shattering cracks. She remembered the sound. Once you heard it, it was a sound you’d never mistake. She’d heard it for the first time hunting with her father. She heard it over and over during boot camp. She’d heard it in Korea. It was the crack of a gun.

  Moe’s heart pounded. She ran across the driveway and up the front porch. The air was filled with Matt’s screams of agony. She burst through the front door. Mandy lay on the floor. Her blood pooling around her from two holes in her chest. Her face frozen in a moment of horrific realization. Matt was on his knees. He wailed at his wife while raging against two large men, who were holding him down.

  A third man pointed the revolver at Moe. “God damn it,” he said. Moe studied his face. He was lean and in his forties. He had green eyes and his nose hooked at the end. She locked eyes with him, daring him to shoot her.

  “I’ve got this, Damon,” a fourth man said. He was standing to Moe’s right. He moved toward Moe. David’s reflexes kicked in and she threw a punch at the man. Moe tried to push aside the fear in David’s mind and focus on the fourth man. He was heavier than the other man, but not overweight. He had a goatee and wore glasses. T
here was a small scar above his right eye, another cut through the left side of his lip, and a third crossed the right side of his neck.

  The three-scarred man slid under Moe’s punch with ease and touched his hand to Moe’s face. A surge of electric current ran through the man’s hand. David’s body spasmed and went stiff. It felt as though Moe had plunged a fork into an electrical socket. The three-scarred man caught Moe as she fell. She tried to move, but she was frozen. She could still hear Matt screaming. She darted her eyes to him. The two large men were pulling a black bag over his head. The third man put the gun in Matt’s hand and then laid it on the ground.

  Moe began to move. She couldn’t feel her legs, but her perspective was changing. She was being dragged out the front door. She watched Mandy’s lifeless body disappear from view. Tears streamed from her eyes. As her feet slid down the steps, her mind went to Sarah. Oh, God. Where was Sarah? Did they have her, too? Oh, Jesus.

  As the three-scarred man dragged her through the yard, Moe spotted a black van hidden in the shadows. The two large men were forcing Matt into it. Moe hit the ground as the three-scarred man turned her and pressed her up against the fence. “Nothing personal, old-timer. Just the wrong place at the wrong time.” She listened, as the man walked away and closed the gate.

  Moe tried to move, but she was stuck. Her face was pushed against the wood of the fence. Tears continued to roll from her eyes and into the mud. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. She heard the van pull away. She tried to scream again, but there was still nothing. Her mind raced. Where was Sarah? Did they take Sarah? Was she okay? There were sirens. She could hear them in the distance. “Thank, God,” she thought. Someone else had called the police. Her heart filled with hope. Maybe they would find her. She ran the faces of the men in her head, over and over. She didn’t want to forget anything. She etched them into her mind.

  Moe let go of David’s arm and opened her eyes. He moved his arm away from her. He was weeping. He turned away from her. “Mmmm. Orrr. Mmmm Orrr. Mmmm Ooo Orrr,” he moaned through closed lips.