by M. M. Silva
A tiny circle of light dotted the wall at the top of the stairs and then disappeared. Whoever it was had a flashlight and probably focused the beam up the steps to gauge his or her progress. If I could trip him or her up somehow, I’d scream for Doob and Jeff, and then…
Yes, then what? The boys would come down with their combined weight of three hundred pounds brandishing their hammers? And then Doob could mess his pants while Jeff fainted?
I needed to call 911.
As the thought crossed my mind, I cursed myself because I’d evidently dropped my phone in the enormous chair when I’d fallen asleep. On two good legs, I could get it in a flash. On crutches, I could possibly get it before Christmas.
But maybe I could scramble over to it on my hands and knees.
Using the crutches to steady me, I got to my knees and told myself I’d transformed into a three-foot superhero. Laying the crutches on the floor, I tried to stay as low as possible and then wondered if I had the upper body strength to lay flat and use my forearms to drag me to the chair. I instantly dismissed that as delusional.
Taking one last peek through the crack in the door before starting my trek, I saw a large form emerge and creep down the hallway toward the bedrooms, alternating the beam of light between them and the open doorway that led to the attic. I wasn’t going to make it to the phone and probably had a maximum of five seconds to figure out what to do.
When I’d sat down in the chair earlier, I hadn’t planned on falling asleep, so I still had a shoe on my working foot. Since I didn’t have time to form a good plan, I decided on a bad one. I scrambled to a sitting position and yanked the shoe off. Watching the beam of light and the dark form, I grabbed for a crutch.
Crutch versus possible gun or knife or Taser or God-knew-what. I was fucked.
When the giant form got to the bottom of the attic doorway, I knew I had one shot at this. I threw the shoe at the wall as hard as I could from a sitting position and waited for the thunk. When it came, the large form whipped around and charged toward my room.
CHAPTER 45
ADRENALINE COURSED THROUGH ME. I’d wanted his attention, and I had it. Go-time.
If I do say so myself, I positioned and timed the next move pretty well because when Big Red came into the room, I swung the crutch at his mid-section and connected squarely with his sizable gut. He doubled over and dropped the flashlight while he cursed and howled like a wounded animal. I crab-walked away from him while I yelled at the top of my lungs for Doob and Jeff to call 911.
Despite his obvious pain, Big Red flailed out and got hold of my good leg. He pulled me toward him, and I kicked at him with my casted leg, but I had no power. His two arms against my one leg were like quicksand dragging me under, and I wondered what he had for a weapon. Heck, he could just sit on me, and it would be all over. His disgusting breath would probably be the last thing I smelled as he crushed the life out of me.
It sounded like thunder as Jeff, Doob and Sampson pounded down the steps. By the time they got to the room and switched on the light, Big Red and I were sitting side-by-side on the floor, he with a handful of my hair and a gun to my temple.
“I told you I’d pay you a visit,” he sneered.
“What the hell are you doing in my house?” Jeff demanded, and I was surprised at the strength of his voice. As I would have expected, Doob looked ready to cry, but he had a firm grip on Sampson’s collar, who was growling and straining to get free.
Big Red snarled. “Same thing you’re doing. Looking for something that doesn’t belong to me.”
Jeff’s face contorted with rage. “You heard Rusty tell Charlie where to look. You killed him. And now you’re threatening us?” He then gestured to the attic. “Be my guest. There’s nothing up there.”
Big Red smirked. “I have friends on the police force around here. I heard that Charlie thing was an unfortunate accident.”
“Don’t you think two accidents and four dead bodies might just draw some attention to this place?” Jeff asked, not backing down.
Big Red ignored him. “I did get a kick out of the fact Rusty told this bimbo about the attic. The idiot doesn’t know that we see everything.”
Bimbo?
Jeff was relentless. “You won’t get away with this. We’ve already called the cops. Plus, I’m telling you, there’s nothing to find. Go dig around for yourself. Put the gun on me, and we’ll go up together. There’s nothing.”
“Yeah, like I’m gonna leave these other two down here while we go upstairs. I work around criminals all day; I know all the tricks people try to pull. Don’t think I’m going to fall for any crap from you amateurs.”
“All I’m saying is there’s nothing up there.”
Big Red jerked hard on my hair. “I heard this one tell Rusty there were some boxes of stuff. I want to see them. Obviously the old lady hid the coins somewhere. I’ve heard all the rumors about them. And they’re here; we’ve just got to keep looking. There’s a shed outside, and I know there’s a basement, too.”
“And we’ll search all those areas before the police arrive?” Jeff asked, incredulous.
“Of course not. But you three will be getting acquainted with Charlie by the time they get here, and I’ll be long gone with the boxes.”
While Jeff and Big Red had been arguing, I noticed Doob had inched back ever so slightly into the hallway. Knowing he’d never abandon me, I understood his intention. It was that telepathy thing we sometimes do.
When I’d been trapped in a similar situation with Melanie months before, I’d elected to run, with the hope she’d chase me. I’d wanted to create a target for her and force her to come after me instead of focusing on the person she’d already hurt. My plan hadn’t worked, and it was something I’d regret every day for the rest of my life.
Watching my friend, I knew he was going to try to create a diversion and make himself a target to buy me some time. The thought made me sick, but it also gave me an idea.
Doob and I locked eyes; I could see the determination through his fear. My voice came out steady, and I was proud of that. “Do it.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Doob yanked Sampson’s collar, grabbed Jeff, and the three of them darted off into the darkness.
I was gambling on the fact that a control-freak like Big Red—an authority figure, a tough prison guard—clearly expected all of us to stay put and obey his demands. He expected us to cry, stammer, beg and crap our pants. He expected to dole out commands while we remained subservient and scared. That’s what he expected.
What I expected was he’d be so flustered at my comrades brash departure that he’d have to stagger up to go after Doob and Jeff. And I knew they could outrun him and hide outside in the storm until the police arrived.
But if I was wrong…well, then I was dead.
From his sitting position on the floor, Big Red leaned his head back and roared, “Get back here, or I will kill her! Get back here—”
While his head was tilted back, I twisted and used both my arms to lunge at his left hand—the gun hand—and force it toward the ceiling. We jockeyed for leverage from a sitting position, and even though he was big, he was soft and not all that strong. Still, I was going to be no match for him. Just like it had been in the stairwell with Melanie, the invisible ticking clock boomed in my head. I didn’t have a lot of time to fight.
Quickly releasing my right hand, I kept wrangling with my left and reached over his bulk to get the flashlight a foot away. Just as he was moving the gun back toward me, I grabbed the flashlight and pounded it as hard as I could squarely into his family jewels.
He howled like a wounded animal and dropped the gun. I grabbed it and scrambled away just as Gus burst into the room with an entrance that would make Bruce Willis proud.
“Hands where I can see them!” he ordered.
But Big Red was in a fetal position on the floor, cupping his junk and whimpering like a baby.
I looked up at Gus from the floor. “I whacked him in
his business,” I said with a wavering smile before I burst out crying.
CHAPTER 46
GUS REACTED TO MY TEARS ABOUT THE SAME WAY DOOB DOES, so I pulled myself together while he handcuffed Big Red.
What in the hell was Gus doing with a gun and handcuffs? There was more to this old man than met the eye.
Sirens wailed as Gus led Big Red down the stairs, and I yelled for Doob to come up to make sure I didn’t do a second head-dive down the stairs in as many weeks. Doob bounded up the stairs two at a time and crushed me in a hug, crutches and all. Sampson was right behind him, doing his springing, happy dance all around us.
Doob hiccupped, or he might have been hyperventilating, I wasn’t sure which. “I…I didn’t mean to leave you, Meg…tell me you know, you know I’d never, ever…I’d die first…”
“Doob, you’re breaking my ribs,” I said, and he backed off instantly. I leaned forward, kissed him on the cheek, and tried not to pay attention to how puffy and red his eyes were. “You followed the plan perfectly! I know you didn’t abandon me; I needed you to leave. Big Red was so pissed when you took off he couldn’t even think straight. He was all alpha, thinking he was the big man in charge, and you completely unraveled him. You saved the day, Doob, swear to God.”
He gave me an aw shucks face straight out of the Iowa cornfields and said, “Cut it out. I didn’t do anything but run. You and Gus saved the day. What happened anyway?”
“I jammed Big Red in the nuts with a flashlight just as Gus came in like a full S.W.A.T. team.”
Doob scratched his head. “Yeah, what’s up with that anyway?”
I nudged my chin toward the stairwell. “Only one way to find out. Walk backwards and help me down these friggin’ stairs.”
Doob and I made our way slowly to the ground level, got me settled on a couch, and watched the chaos. Several patrol cars were parked haphazardly on the lawn, and Gus was deep in conversation with one pair of law enforcement types, while Jeff was engaged with another.
The minute Jeff saw me, he rushed over. “Meagan, I hope you know I didn’t want to—”
I put a finger on his mouth. “Jeff, it happened exactly like I wanted it to. You and Doob are heroes.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Leaving a girl behind with a murderer doesn’t make me feel too heroic. I’m gonna get back with these officers, but I wanted to say I’m sorry and I’m so glad you’re okay.” He enveloped me in a bear hug that also left me breathless.
“The only way you two are going to get me killed tonight is with these hugs,” I said with a smile.
We spent the next couple of hours repeating the same story and answering questions from the various law enforcement personnel who were at the house. Weariness washed over me as I watched the last police cruiser drive down the long lane, presumably off to do paperwork until the end of time.
With a quiet house, Gus, Jeff, Doob and I assembled in the main living area, where Jeff addressed the elephant in the room.
“So…Gus?”
Gus had a twinkle in his eye. “Yes.”
“I’m beyond grateful, but I’ve got to ask why in the hell you showed up brandishing a gun like John Wayne.”
Gus’s amusement seemed to grow. “After I spoke with Meagan, I made some calls about the big prison guard and didn’t like what I heard. I decided to come out and make sure you kids were all right.”
Jeff’s confusion grew. “Made some calls? To who? What does that mean?”
Gus smiled mischievously. “Did I ever mention I was a state patrolman for thirty-five years?”
Good grief.
We spent the next few hours talking about Gus’s exciting life as a state trooper, and I had a delicious thought before retiring to bed.
“Gus, with all of your connections, do you know any judges in the state of Rhode Island?”
He cocked his head. “I know several, why?”
“Do you know any of them really well? As in, they-might-do-you-a-favor-really-well?”
“I do,” he said. “I take a trip to Florida with one of them every winter.”
I beamed. Handing him Officer Hurley’s business card, I relayed all my suspicions about Malcolm Gage Johnson and the finial. It was possible Gus knew about Charlie and Malcolm’s history because his face became a deep shade of red the longer I talked.
“So, if you could call in a favor and maybe give Officer Hurley the credit in the process…”
“Consider it handled,” he said and pocketed the card. “I think there’s a pretty big reward out there for the recovery of the items. I assume you want in on that?”
“If it gets that far, I’ll take a couple of bucks, sure. But the bigger reward would be that I’d like Mr. Asshole Johnson to know who brought him down.”
Maybe the prick would even come up with a name for his jail cell.
CHAPTER 47
Sunday, November 17th
AFTER SPENDING HALF THE NIGHT TALKING WITH GUS and the boys, I was glad the Jeff-drama was over so Doob and I could get back to Boston. Even though Jeff had an amazing house, I missed my life. And I was determined to make things right with Moira if it was the last thing I ever did.
We got up early, and Doob loaded up the Mercedes with our belongings while I watched from my perch on the couch. Staring at my cast, I never thought I’d actually long for manual labor.
Once Doob had the car all packed, we went in for a final breakfast with Gus and Shelley. After promises to stay in touch through email and phone, I gave both of them the best hugs I could while on crutches, and think I saw a bit of mist in Gus’s eyes. I thought about razzing him and then realized—who was I kidding? It was all I could do to not break down over leaving these people I felt like I’d known for years instead of just a couple of weeks.
Doob and I went back to Jeff’s to pick up Sampson and were headed north by eleven o’clock. The good-bye with Jeff was somehow easier, and I found myself wondering if something could ever spark between Moira and him. Thinking of my sister, I grabbed my phone and punched the speed-dial button to call her at work. My mother had texted—like Uncle Larry, my old-fashioned mother was texting—Moira had gone back to work, and I was hoping she’d join me at the apartment for dinner tonight. Truth be told, I was actually hoping she’d stay at the apartment tonight. But I knew that was wishful thinking. Baby steps, I reminded myself.
“Moira Maloney,” announced the crisp voice over the phone.
“Hey sis!” My voice came out in such a forced cheery screech it sounded ridiculous. “Working on a Sunday?”
Her tone dropped about two octaves. “Oh. Hi, Meagan. I have a lot of catching up to do.”
My heart sank lower than her voice, but I was determined to sound upbeat, so I plowed ahead in my unnaturally perky squeal. “I just wanted to let you know Doob, Sampson, and I are on our way back to Boston.”
“Did you finish your case?” she asked with all kinds of attitude.
“I did.”
“Well, good for you.”
“It is good. The guy responsible for Charlie’s death is in custody and will hopefully be locked up for the rest of his life.”
“Like I said, good for you.”
Man, this was awkward. Stubborn as a mule, and she wasn’t giving an inch. As I was struck mute for the moment, she kept talking. “So if there isn’t anything else—”
My insides were disintegrating. I simply couldn’t take this. I couldn’t have her mad at me indefinitely. For eternity. For infinity. “There is something else. There’s a lot of something else. I won’t pretend to know what you went through, and I know you hate me right now. I hate myself. Ten times more than you could ever hate me. And if I tell you I’m sorry for every waking minute for the rest of my life, it won’t be enough. It’ll never, ever, ever be enough. Not for you, and definitely not for Ma and Pop, and not even enough for me. But I can’t change what happened. I can only change what I do moving forward.”
There was a long pause. And by some act of God,
I managed to stay quiet until she responded. I knew it could well go into January, but I was ready.
“I don’t expect you to change the past, Meagan. I’m not that foolish.”
“Of c-course not,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
“And if you’re so worried about doing the right thing in the future, I assume that means you’re in for a career change?” she asked.
Ouch. I wasn’t ready for that conversation just yet.
“Is that a no? I mean, you’re so sorry, right? You feel so terrible, right? Wouldn’t getting a real job—that doesn’t put your family in danger—make a whole lot of sense?” Her voice was cold and shrill.
“Meagan?”
My lips clamped shut. I simply couldn’t speak, because I couldn’t tell her what she wanted—what she desperately needed—to hear. Letting her down again wasn’t an option, but I was incapable of telling her I’d quit my job.
I heard a huge exhale of breath. “Your silence says it all. If you’re not changing jobs, then you’ll be changing roommates,” she said with a steely resolve in her voice.
More internal flip flops. “Moira, please just do one thing for me. Please come to the apartment after work. For an hour. For one hour, not a second more. I’ll make dinner, and Doob will pick up something for dessert.” I had to go for broke. “And I know Sampson wants to see you. It’s been a long time, and he doesn’t understand what’s going on. You can’t break his little doggie heart.” I was most certainly not above using a dog to get what I wanted.
“Really, Meg? Using the Sampson guilt trip? I’ll be keeping him when we divide up the apartment, by the way. He’s my dog.”
Tears immediately sprang to my eyes, but I wouldn’t acknowledge what she’d just said. She was trying to be hurtful, and she’d landed her mark. Still, I was going to take her venom as long as she planned on spewing it. “6:00? One hour. That’s all I’m looking for.”
“6:30, and I don’t know how long I’ll stay. Have some stuff packed for Sampson. I’ll take him to Ma and Pop’s tonight when I leave.”
