Disengaged (Terms of Engagement Book 3)

by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  “Good. And so, my cousin taught the rest of us how,” Amber concluded, then her forehead furrowed slightly. “What if Randall Jerome has a pet? Barring a sudden-onset live-in girlfriend, it’s been on its own since Monday. So… making certain one way or the other, is humanitarian. Or animaltarian, or something.”

  “There’s a thought,” Erik rubbed his chin. “Here’s another. What if Randall Jerome has a big dog? One that isn’t all that friendly to begin with, and hasn’t been fed for the past three days?”

  “Little dogs are a source to be reckoned with, too. And either one will bark when we knock, if there is one at all.”

  “Unless it’s smart enough not to, or has barked itself hoarse. We could do this all night, and that’s tempting, but it won’t determine who’s behind the attempted destruction of the model homes.”

  “So we’re going?” she perked up.

  “Yes… we’re going.”

  “I’ll grab my lock-pick set, and be right back,” Amber flew out of her seat.

  Erik prayed he wasn’t making a huge mistake.

  Amber rushed back into the room, a small case in her hand.

  “Come on, let’s go,” she said, stuffing it in her purse, then reaching for her coat.

  “Wait, you’re going like that? Shouldn’t you wear black, or a dark color, at least?” Erik questioned.

  “Sure, Erik,” she said tolerantly, as she handed him his coat. “I’ll go dress in black, then we’ll go to your place and you’ll do the same. We’ll pick up a couple of ski masks, while we’re at it.”

  “And make ourselves as conspicuous as possible,” he understood.

  “Look at us, we don’t look like we’re up to no good, and we’re not,” Amber pointed out. “We’re on a mission of mercy to rescue a stranded pet.”

  “Which may or may not exist,” Erik finished for her. “I really hope this doesn’t end in us having to post bail.”

  “If we do, Dad’ll take care of it,” she said blithely. “Yours, anyway. Believe me, he won’t blame you.”

  Erik didn’t know whether to laugh or groan, so he did both, and followed her out the door.

  Chapter 19

  AMBER scanned the parking lot of Randall Jerome’s apartment complex, as Erik guided his vehicle through the maze of buildings to number three.

  Beyond the glow of the SUV’s headlights, the parking lot relied on the light of the crescent moon more than it did the widely spaced streetlights that flickered anemically. Half-frozen puddles reflected the stars that glittered in the cold night sky, and patches of snow lent a ghostly aura to the north side of the buildings. A few sparsely placed outdoor bulbs faintly illuminated building numbers and the occasional wall space between apartment doors.

  “It’s not very well-lit,” Amber commented.

  “Ever tried picking a lock in the dark?” Erik asked, keeping an eye on the shadows brought to life by the vehicle’s headlights.

  “Yes,” she promptly replied, and Erik managed not to laugh.

  “I’m not even going to ask,” he teased her.

  “I’m telling you anyway,” she informed him, with a tilt of her chin. “You never know when you might need to unlock a door in the dark. It pays to be prepared. So my cousin taught us that, too. It’s not much different, really. It isn’t as though you can see inside a lock, anyway. Not without specialized equipment.”

  “I’ll bet your parents really appreciated him bestowing this knowledge on the rest of you,” Erik smiled, as he imagined the many possible reactions.

  “You’d think so, but some of the aunts and uncles weren’t very happy about it. If they had any idea what else…There it is, number three. Don’t park right in front. See that? The apartments are larger in this building, and some of the lights are on. Park beside those two cars, and we won’t be conspicuous.”

  “Yes dear,” he said tolerantly, and did. He also wondered if a time would come when he found her bossiness annoying, rather than adorable. Not that it mattered, unless…

  Erik reigned in his thoughts.

  Frigid air met them as they opened the doors, and stepped outside. The icy cold numbed Amber’s cheeks and nose, and burned her lungs. She adjusted her scarf, then reached for the hand Erik offered. He assisted her in hopping over the dingy, snow-heaped curb, and onto the sidewalk. She was tempted to pull up her hood, but decided that would look suspicious. Then she decided it would be worth it, to spare herself frostbite!

  “Aren’t you freezing?” she whispered softly, unapologetically wrapping her shivering arms around his very muscular one.

  “You forget, I’m not from around here. I’m used to a lot colder climate than this,” he said quietly.

  Amber shivered some more. She spared her teeth from chattering, and didn’t answer.

  “But you’re right, it is kind of cold,” he reasoned, and put his arm around her. Amber decided freezing nearly to death had its benefits, after all.

  They followed the sidewalk past the park-like area separating the two buildings.

  Meager trees reached toward the starry heavens with their spindly branches, their remaining leaves rustling faintly in the breath of frosty air that passed by. If it carried their spicy scent along with it, Amber’s nose was too numb to tell. Several more leaves fell, joining the others that haphazardly blanketed the ground.

  The jarring creak of an empty swing in the play area marred the silence, and Erik and Amber hurried their steps. They reached building three, and continued around to the front.

  “Second floor,” Amber said quietly, and Erik nodded. As they approached the single set of stairs, their chipped concrete steps, and painted metal supports and rail, she grimaced. “What were they going for, the color of flesh?”

  “It does look disgusting, but no,” Erik answered, glancing at the handrail, and the walkway above. He assumed she was attempting to sound as natural as they were attempting to look, and played along. “This side of the building faces south, and gets the brunt of the sun. Its rays have washed a lot of the color out of it.”

  “I wouldn’t mind being in the brunt of the sun myself, right now,” Amber shivered.

  “We’ll have you inside soon, and you can warm up,” Erik said sympathetically. If anyone inside the dark apartments was listening, they’d have no reason to be suspicious.

  Their footsteps reverberated as they climbed the stairs, echoing up the handrail, and all along the railing that lined both sides of the second-floor walkway.

  “It’s a good thing we’re not trying to be stealthy,” Amber commented.

  “Nice security feature they have,” Erik replied. “A little primitive, but no one could go up these stairs without alerting the entire building.”

  Amber laughed quietly, for good measure.

  They reached the top, and followed the concrete walkway to the left.

  The doors were the same faded flesh tone as the railing, and almost as scarred. Strips of peeling paint exposed the bare wood of the doorframes. Fragments of cobwebs hung sporadically from the corners of the unwashed windows. A doormat, its letters long since worn away, occupied the space in front of one door.

  “It’s terrible how businesses leave these doorhangers behind,” Amber tsked quietly. “That’s a great way to make a robber think no one’s home.”

  Erik gave the advertisement hanging from the knob beside him a glance, then looked ahead to door number three. It, too, was encircled by a card.

  “This was here before it snowed,” Erik commented softly, noting the blistered surface and blurred ink, as they came to a stop in front of Randall Jerome’s apartment.

  Amber held in the enthusiasm brought on by this discovery, and slipped off her gloves. She looked ready to get to work, so Erik wasted no time in knocking.

  The loud rap caused Amber to jump. To her it seemed an excessive use of force, but, if there was anyone inside, they’d be sure to hear it.

  She paused a moment, and they both waited.

  The miniblinds
in the window beside the door, were still. On the other side they heard no footsteps, no clatter of claws, or barking.

  Amber removed the lock pick set from her purse, and got to work.

  Erik leaned casually against the doorframe. He listened for any hint of a sound inside the apartment, and kept an eye on the blinds while scanning the parking lot for movement.

  He heard the unmistakable slide of a deadbolt, and prepared to go along with whatever reason Amber came up with for being here at eleven-thirty at night. Before he could wonder what that might possibly be, Amber gave him a satisfied glance, and got to work on the knob.

  “I’m impressed, and a little afraid now,” Erik said quietly. “If I had a journal, I’d be tempted to hide it, rather than lock it up.”

  Amber giggled in response, and opened the door. They swiftly stepped inside, and closed it behind them.

  They stood motionless for a full minute, as they gauged the silence, and allowed their eyes to acclimate. Gradually the blue light of the microwave’s digital display, and the red of the coffeemaker’s, hinted at the contents of the room they were in.

  A kitchenette and eating area on the left, and a small living room shrouded in shadow, on the right. Facing them, an open doorway into complete darkness.

  Amber pulled on her gloves, and switched on the small flashlight she carried in her purse. Erik remembered the penlight on his keyring, and made use of it. He motioned for her to take the living area, or keep watch, or stay put, she wasn’t sure which. He turned to the kitchen and she locked the door, then focused her light on the living room.

  The fan cast eerie shadows on the cracked plaster ceiling, as the flashlight beam made its way methodically around the small space. Stark-white textured walls, and scruffy nylon carpet that was either as faded as the railing outside, or the flesh tone was intentional. Amber grimaced at the unappealing color, and the even less appealing stains that dotted it.

  Beside her, Erik’s light reflected off the small glass table and four chairs, as he moved methodically through the kitchen, searching the other side of the cabinets, and probing the small closet.

  Amber ran her light over the dark-blue, plaid couch. The arms were worn, and the middle sagged. If Randall Jerome came into money recently, he didn’t spend it here. The big screen TV, though, and the gaming system, maybe. A small entertainment center held an assortment of disks, video game controllers, and electronics.

  She moved forward and looked behind the scarred, imitation leather recliner, then joined Erik by the front door. He motioned toward the pitch-black opening on the other side of the room, and she nodded.

  As they neared the doorway, the beam of their flashlights touched a rumpled bed, cluttered nightstand, and… the room began to glow faintly. Amber swallowed a gasp.

  “The side wall, it’s mirrored,” Erik whispered, perhaps hoping to loosen the vice-like grip she had on his arm. Amber let out a deep breath, and did. Then she wrinkled her nose. Something smelled…

  A loud whirring, rattling, banging noise, erupted from the room. Amber jumped, clenched her jaw, and gripped Erik’s arm. He flinched.

  “It’s okay,” he quickly and quietly assured her.

  “How do you know?” she hissed, her hands shaking.

  “I smell a rat. Literally.”

  Erik panned his penlight to the side. A pair of shiny eyes glittered from out of the darkness, then a wire cage came into the light. The black and white rat inside it, paused and sniffed the air curiously. As its wheel ceased to turn, the noise stopped. Amber released Erik’s arm, and pressed it to her heart, instead.

  “I’ll check the closet, you check under the bed,” Erik said softly. As she glared at him indignantly, she caught the teasing gleam in his eyes. She rolled hers. He smiled, and searched both, as well as the small attached bathroom. “Alright. That’s done. We’re alone.”

  “Except for the rat,” she retorted. “And I might mean you! ‘Check under the bed...’ and after I almost had a heart attack!”

  “Sorry,” he smiled, squeezing her shoulders as he squeezed past on his way to check out the rat.

  “I can tell,” she grumbled. “What are you doing, anyway?”

  “This guy needs fed. Who knows how long it’ll be before someone else comes and finds him,” Erik replied.

  “If that doesn’t happen soon, he may die of asphyxiation before he does starvation,” she wrinkled her nose again.

  “Yeah… that’s not good,” Erik frowned a little. While he considered that, and filled the rat’s dish with the pellets in the bag beside the cage, Amber looked around.

  The rat and its implements were the sole occupants of the desktop. Amber looked briefly inside the drawers, then moved to the nightstand.

  A desk lamp occupied its surface, along with an assortment of alcohol, water, and soda bottles. A conglomeration of plates and bowls were stacked precariously near the edge, their contents stale and shriveled. Amber gave the items a cursory glance, then rapidly sorted through the single drawer. Here, too, there was nothing of use in determining who was involved in the attempt to sabotage the Pine Mountain development.

  Amber turned her gaze to the rumpled bed. She gingerly looked underneath the pillows, then ran her hands along the lumpy comforter, searching for anything that…

  Her eyes lit with excitement, as she swiftly flipped aside the bedding, and seized the iPad underneath.

  “Bingo,” she said in triumph. Erik latched the cage door, and looked to see what she held in her hand.

  “Excellent,” he smiled. “Is it charged?”

  A faint, rhythmic vibration traveled through the floor, causing both to freeze. Erik’s scalp prickled.

  “Is that…” Amber wondered, her words cut off by the unmistakable rasp of a key forced into the front lock.

  Erik unceremoniously grabbed her by the arm as he yanked the closet door open, she gripped the iPad tightly to her chest, and he shoved her inside, following right on her heels, as the lock turned, and the bolt slid back. She managed to stay on her feet as he pulled the door shut, sandwiching them between it, and the clothes that hung from the rod. He pushed her to one side of the closet, as the person on the walkway outside the apartment fumbled with the doorknob.

  “Don’t move!” Erik ordered urgently, then slid half the hangered clothing to her side, and shoved the loaded laundry basket against her legs. Erik tripped over boots, and who knew what else, as he waded to the opposite side of the door. He pressed against the wall and prayed the clothes that hung from the rod would be enough to conceal him, and extinguished his light. He focused on breathing evenly, slowing his pounding heart, and on listening for sound outside the pitch-black space in which they were now enclosed.

  The key scratched against the doorknob as it searched for the keyhole, then slid in place with a thunk. The knob rattled, then turned.

  The front door swung open with a creak.

  Footsteps clomped heavily on the tile entry.

  The door closed with a dull thud, and the bolt slid back in place.

  Rustling… as the person removed their coat, and lay it aside. ‘For how long’ now joined the questions ‘who’ and ‘why’.

  Footsteps, in no hurry, circled the living room, coming closer. Faint, wavering light filled the space underneath the closet door. A click, and the light grew bright.

  Amber held the iPad against her chest with one arm, and covered her nose and mouth with the other. Erik thought he was doing her a favor, hiding her behind Randall Jerome’s dirty laundry. Maybe it was the thought that counted, but her eyes were stinging! Oh great, and now her nose was running. She took a shallow breath, and used her glove to stem the tide.

  The faint sniffle flooded Erik with alarm. What if the person on the other side of the door heard? He also felt compassion, and guilt. Amber must be terrified, and it was his fault. He should’ve known better than to trust her sociopathic cousin, not that he was comfortable with the sitting-duck scenario, but now, that’s exactly w
hat they were.

  They weren’t being hunted, there was some consolation in that. Although the sliding of drawers as they opened and closed, and the rustling of the contents inside, was a good indication something was.

  Amber blinked away the moisture brought on by Randall Jerome’s unwashed clothing. One thing she could say for the man, he was a hard worker. Also very destructive, and what was the person in the next room looking for?

  The sounds of rummaging, tossing, dragging, and sliding, followed the perimeter of the small bedroom, coming closer.

  Erik resigned himself. Hunted or not, unless the hunter chose not to search the closet, they were going to be found. And then what?

  Amber’s eyebrows knit in concentration as she strained to decipher each sound. Who was this person? Why were they here, searching, in the middle of the night? Their movements were stealthy, but not hurried. Either they didn’t expect to be discovered, or weren’t afraid to be.

  Erik prepared to take the blame. Amber left it up to him, and he was the one who made this incredibly dumb decision. If she ever again made the mistake of thinking he was perfect, he’d remind her of this. Once he was out of jail.

  Amber hoped Erik wasn’t contemplating sacrificing himself to save her. Because whoever was out there, wasn’t a sudden-onset live-in girlfriend, or anything like it. She was more certain of that with each passing second.

  A soft whir on the other side…

  The bedsprings creaked. A moment later, there was the tapping of a keyboard, and a tune welcomed the user to Windows.

  More typing, then silence, then typing, then silence…

  The hunter was after the laptop, and now they had it. Erik wasn’t disappointed it was found without searching the closet. Amber was disappointed she didn’t find it first. But, now that the searcher had it, the searcher would go.

  Or, not. The sound of the bedsprings, indicated they were settling in, instead.

  This person who came to the apartment in the middle of the night, who searched with such stealth, wasn’t desperate to borrow the computer to check their Facebook account, or the location of their recent Amazon Prime order. So why did they want it? Was it to…