Disengaged (Terms of Engagement Book 3)

by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  Loud whirring, banging, and rattling. The rat was on the move, spinning its wheel, going nowhere. Much like they were. Or weren’t. It was making more noise than they possibly could, anyway.

  Amber gripped the iPad, stepped over the basket, and slid behind the clothes hanging from the rod. Erik felt her coming, and caught the shoulder of her coat to keep her from tripping, as she stepped over the conglomeration of items under which the floor was buried, and joined him on his side of the closet. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, determined to take up as little space as possible.

  “I thought I said to stay put,” he whispered against her ear in reproof, feeling her tears on his cheek as he did so. He was instantly chagrined, and hugged her even closer. She buried her face against his neck, and took several deep breaths, in what must be a brave attempt to compose herself.

  Amber breathed in deeply, once more. Erik’s cologne almost made up for Randall Jerome’s dirty laundry. Correction, it did make up for it. So did having Erik’s arms around her. She’d be perfectly happy, if the person with the laptop would just leave!

  “It’ll be alright,” Erik whispered softly.

  “It will, if you don’t try doing something heroic, like turn yourself in,” she whispered back tartly.

  “I can’t. Not without taking you with me,” he replied.

  “I know. That’s why I’m here,” she retorted. That, and the air quality. And, they had work to do that might or might not be time-sensitive.

  Amber turned just enough to see the iPad, and pressed the wake button.

  The sudden infusion of light into the small, dark space, was blinding. They both squinted.

  “What are you doing?” Erik whispered, glancing toward the door.

  “Saving time,” she softly replied. “Get out your phone.”

  Erik understood her intent, and did. As she flew through email, he photographed each screen. With a shock, Erik realized the emails were deleting faster than they could get to them. He and Amber swiped screens and tapped to photograph, with renewed fervor.

  On the other side of the door, the rat continued to run. There was an occasional pause, in which they sometimes heard more typing, and the creak of a spring.

  They reached the end of the disappearing emails. Amber rapidly moved on to Randall Jerome’s texts, then his contacts list.

  The springs creaked hard, and they heard a sharp snap. Amber feverishly airdropped the entire contents of Randall Jerome’s album to Erik’s phone. He accepted, rapidly returned his phone to his pocket, and Amber pressed the iPad’s sleep button.

  Footsteps outside the door. Coming closer. A hand on the knob, and it turned.

  Erik clutched Amber to his chest, turned his back to the door, and ducked his head.

  The door opened, and light poured in.

  Silence.

  Erik and Amber waited, motionless. Other than the change in lighting, their eyes told them nothing. Neither did their ears, for several very long seconds.

  The carpet crunched beneath the feet of the hunter, as he or she took another step forward. Behind Erik, and above his head, was a metallic clank, and the sound of something heavy being dragged along the shelf. With a soft grunt and another clank and a rattle, the hunter caught it, then set it on the floor.

  A hinge screeched faintly, and there was a soft clunk. Rummaging, rattling, searching the contents of the metal box. Silence, other than the soft, rustling movements of the hunter.

  A click and a slide.

  Erik’s muscles tensed. He wondered if Amber had any idea that sounded like a magazine being ejected from a handgun. Amber did, and her eyes narrowed as she waited, listening…

  For the sound of a bullet being loaded into a magazine. Two bullets. And the ominous slide and click of a magazine inserted back in place. There was no cycling of the slide. That didn’t mean a bullet wasn’t already in the chamber.

  The sound of wiping, scrubbing, gathering, something heavy placed in the box with a dull thud, the screech of the hinge, and metallic clank of the lid connecting.

  The box lifting, carpet crunching underfoot. The box scraping along the shelf. A moment of silence, and then the light faded and the door closed.

  Erik sighed quietly in relief, and thanked God for keeping them undetected, and unshot.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered softly against Amber’s curls, and she nodded.

  “You?” she whispered back. This had to be harder on him, than it was her. He wasn’t carrying a purse with a pistol in it.

  Erik nodded, and they listened to the metallic clangs coming from the next room. If he had to guess, he’d say the rat’s cage was getting moved.

  The clinks and clanks came closer, like a set of mismatched jingle bells with the occasional cowbell thrown in. Then the noise faded, the front doorknob turned, and the door swung open. A moment later, it closed. The key inserted into the lock with a rasp, and the bolt slid in place.

  A rhythmic vibration traveled through the floor, and slowly faded.

  Amber sprang into action as swiftly as she could, considering Erik’s arms encircled her snuggly, a wall of clothing barred the way, and a mountain of shoes and who knows what else, booby trapped the floor.

  “Come on!” she exclaimed. Erik let go of her, and she clambered over the debris and through the clothing to the door. Erik followed her out, lighting the floor with his penlight, as she flew to the front window.

  “Anything?” he asked cautiously.

  “A car. I have no idea what it is, it’s backing out,” she replied, and he glanced over her shoulder.

  At the walkway’s edge, the tail end of a dark car and part of its roof, was visible. It arced slightly, then changed gears and drove away.

  “Time to go,” Erik said, catching her gloved hand in his. She knelt briefly and slid the iPad underneath the entertainment center, as he made a beeline out the door, taking her with him.

  “Do we have everything we came with?” she checked.

  “I do,” he replied.

  “So do I. Hold on, this will only take a minute…”

  Erik kept watch, as she used the lock pick set to return the deadbolt to its locked position. She dropped the tools in her purse, he put his arm around her, and as quietly and as naturally as possible, they followed the stairs back to the parking lot.

  They hurried in silence along the sidewalk, past the park, and back to Erik’s SUV. He saw her safely into the passenger’s seat, then joined her. He started the vehicle, and was surprised to find the vents still producing warm air. It felt they’d been inside for much longer than they actually were.

  “That was way too close,” he broke the silence, as Amber removed her gloves and warmed her hands. She heard the residual stress in his voice, and saw it in his eyes.

  “It was close, but we’re out of there. We’re fine. No one knows, no one will. Let’s go to my place, and we’ll go over what we found. Because it’s a lot!”

  “Alright,” Erik nodded. He let out another deep breath, and pulled out of the parking lot. “I can’t believe how calm you are.”

  “I can’t believe how stressed, you are,” she countered. “You weren’t at all, last night, when those guys in the bar tried to take you on.”

  “This is different. This was my fault. I never should’ve taken you in there. Or myself.”

  “Well… it was my idea, too. I went willingly,” she pointed out.

  “If you were hurt—I could never forgive myself,” he said, feeling sick at the thought. Amber was touched.

  “I felt the same way about you, last night. So I guess I understand. But… we’re both fine. And we got all sorts of information!” she reminded him.

  “You’re right, we did. Maybe we can figure out who’s behind this, and spare ourselves being sitting ducks in the future,” he said, the thought cheering him.

  “We will, we’ll figure it out. So… how long can you stay awake, before you’re too tired to drive back to your place?”

 
; “Are you kidding?” Erik laughed a little. “There’s no way I can sleep, now. Especially if you make coffee.”

  “I do,” Amber smiled. “And I will.”

  “Then you’ve got me for as long as you can stand me,” he smiled back.

  “There’s a vacancy down the hall,” she promptly replied, and his laugh was genuine.

  “It’s good to know I’m wanted. If my brother and your sister work things out, I may need to take you up on that. Or, they will.”

  Yet another incentive to pray for their siblings’ restored marriage. Either way, if Rob relocated to Ocotillo… so would Erik.

  They reached Amber’s building, and retreated to her apartment. Soon the tantalizing aroma of fresh brewed coffee enveloped the modest space. She and Erik added their choice of cream and sugar to their steaming mugs, then carried the drinks and a plate of spice cookies to the living room, and had a seat on the couch.

  “Before we go over the information from the iPad, we need to talk about who was in the apartment, while our memories are still fresh,” Amber began.

  “It’s hard to imagine forgetting, but go ahead. We’ll start there,” Erik agreed.

  “We’ll start at the beginning. First off, N came in the middle of the night.”

  “N?” Erik wondered.

  “We’re solving for N,” Amber replied. “N came in the middle of the night, quietly, which indicates they didn’t want to draw attention.”

  “N also has a key,” Erik pointed out. “When N left, the rat went with him or her.”

  “We’ll use him, it’s easier. It’s safe to say he has a close association with Randall Jerome. It’s safe to conclude N has something to hide, since he came to the apartment to delete emails from Randall Jerome’s laptop. And then, there’s the gun. I don’t think it’s coincidence that N added exactly two bullets to the magazine in the gun he brought with him.”

  “The same number used to kill Amos Burns. I agree,” Erik replied. “If we’re right, then N is the one who killed Burns.”

  “With Randall Jerome’s handgun,” Amber concurred. “That makes more sense than it would for N to go to the apartment, go straight to the closet shelf, find matching bullets, and then leave it to implicate Randall Jerome of Burns’ murder. Why replace the bullets, if that was the case?”

  “Why replace the bullets, and why use that particular gun, unless N knows for certain that Randall Jerome won’t be suspected of Burns’ murder,” Erik added.

  “N knows Randall Jerome well enough to have a key, and he knows where Randall keeps his handgun,” Amber mused.

  “He knows Randall won’t be coming back for a while, since he took the rat with him.”

  “He does…” Amber’s eyebrows knit. “Does N know Randall isn’t coming back, at all?”

  “If he does, then… how? The only ones who know, are you, me, Rob, and Samantha,” Erik reminded her.

  “Yes. But. N knows Randall is gone, and if N is involved, chances are good N knows where Randall went.”

  “Okay, so you’re saying N is assuming Randall is dead? It’s a pretty safe assumption, if he has any idea how bad the storm is, or that he and Stilton were stuck in their vehicle.”

  “I’m not willing to assume it’s an assumption,” Amber asserted.

  “Then what are you willing to assume?”

  “I’m willing to consider that this afternoon, we told Conner Stevens that Rob found two guys, frozen in their SUV,” she replied.

  “Conner didn’t do this,” Erik said with certainty.

  “Burns told Joe, the guy in Conner’s office, to let him know if they needed another team. Why would Burns do that, unless he expected Conner Construction to land a big project, soon?” Amber countered.

  “I don’t know, but I do know Conner isn’t involved in discrediting me and Rob,” Erik declared with conviction.

  Amber pondered that, then shrugged.

  “Alright, fine. You know the man, I don’t. There were three other people in that office yesterday. Joe, Franklin, and Sheila. It could be one of them.”

  “Maybe,” Erik acknowledged reluctantly. “It’s hard to believe Conner would hire anyone who would pull a stunt like this, to begin with. Much less commit murder.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Amber conceded. “Either way, all of them have mouths, and that’s a pretty sensational story. If N heard it, he’d know Jerome and Stilton were the two unnamed guys.”

  “You’re right. He would. So either someone in Conner’s office is N… or the story spread from someone in the office, to N,” Erik yielded.

  “It would explain why N took the rat. He knows Randall Jerome isn’t coming back. And the gun, too. Borrowing a dead man’s gun and then returning it, is a great way to conceal a murder weapon.”

  “Maybe, but N is associated with Jerome,” Erik reasoned. “If the sheriff takes seriously what Rob and I have to say about the problems we’ve had on Pine Mountain, then the investigation into Burns’ murder will include his association with Jerome and Stilton, and what they were up to. That’ll potentially lead to N.”

  “It’s less likely to, if Burns was the only other person involved. N is covering his tracks. That’s why he killed Burns, and it’s why he went to Randall Jerome’s apartment, and deleted email, and who knows what else, from his laptop.”

  “Let’s hope the iPad gives us something to go on. But what about the authorities? The photos I took are hardly admissible,” Erik reminded her.

  “Of course not. But, unless the laptop’s hard drive was written over, those emails are still there. A good forensics detective will be able to retrieve them,” Amber said with confidence.

  “N doesn’t know that,” Erik considered.

  “There’s a lot N doesn’t know, and eventually it’s going to lead to him getting caught. In the meantime, we need to figure out who N is. If we know that, we’ll know to stay away from him. We may find evidence to implicate him, too, or a way to point the detectives in the right direction.”

  “Then let’s begin,” Erik agreed. Amber scooted closer, and he took his phone out of his pocket, and scrolled to the first photo.

  “Good, I didn’t know you got that,” Amber said, her excitement rising, as she saw the subject lines and email addresses of the emails received.

  “The ones that get erased, are the ones belonging to N,” Erik agreed. “Either that, or they implicate him.”

  “We’ll for sure get an email address. Maybe the contents of some of the emails.”

  “Moving forward, then,” Erik said. He scrolled to the next inbox photo, then switched back and forth.

  “There, that one’s missing,” Amber said abruptly, and she pointed. “Avenger11597.”

  “Avenger,” Erik repeated, frowning a little. “If either Rob or I have enemies, it’s news to me.”

  “Reggie’s not exactly a fan of yours,” Amber replied, as she wrote the email address on the notepad on her lap. Her lip twitched as she remembered their run-in at dinner.

  “Unless Reggie has a time machine, and other equally impressive resources, the avenging isn’t his. So whose is it? And what is it that’s being avenged? Or maybe N just likes how it sounds.”

  “N could be avenging the loss of the Pine Mountain contract,” she suggested, then her forehead furrowed in thought. “If Burns expected another contractor, like Whitman, to take over Pine Mountain… he wouldn’t tell Joe he was available, if they needed another crew.”

  “He could be trying to throw off suspicion, should any arise, but… that’s kind of an obscure way to do it,” Erik considered.

  “If Burns didn’t tell Joe that, then what motive would Joe have for saying he did?” Amber questioned.

  Erik shook his head slowly, as he thought that over.

  “I can’t think of one. Unless Burns isn’t involved.”

  “But then why murder him?” Amber pointed out.

  “Exactly. I have no idea, and I do think he was involved. Joe might claim Burns said that,
in an effort to distance himself. That’s all I’ve got.”

  “Then back to the email. Did we manage to photograph any from Avenger, before they were all deleted?”

  Erik scrolled through the images one by one.

  “No. But, wait,” he said, as she grimaced in disappointment. “All the emails sent by Avenger were deleted. But, check this out. Jerome forwarded this one on to someone else; Bandit69693. And it, was not deleted.”

  Amber’s eyes lit with renewed enthusiasm, and she leaned closer.

  “Ooh, we’ve got replies, too,” she said, with a thrill of excitement.

  “In chronological order, then. The first is from Avenger, to Randall Jerome,” Erik prefaced, and Amber read aloud.

  “Avenger writes, Thanks for doing this. I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

  Erik took Jerome’s part.

  “If we can pull this off. You should have called me and Jess in the first place.”

  “I have no idea how DC is still on track,” Amber read. “Any question who DC is?”

  “None,” Erik replied. “Avenger is referring to Davison Construction. Jerome answers, They’re connected, but so are we.”

  “Avenger replies, “A little too connected.”

  “There’s no way me and Jess can handle this without help, and Burns is alright,” Erik read. “Now we know for certain that Amos Burns was involved.”

  “And Avenger wasn’t happy about it,” Amber noted. “The response is, When are you going? Opening isn’t far off.”

  “Tomorrow,” Erik read.

  “Make it convincing, Avenger says.”

  “By the time we’re done, the developer will beg us to take over.”

  “It has to look like negligence, not an accident or intentional.”

  “It will,” Erik finished. “This tells us a lot.”

  “And it’ll tell the detective a lot, if he, or we, come up with a reason why he should investigate,” Amber agreed.

  “Yes, if we can come up with a reason that doesn’t involve trespassing and going through Randall Jerome’s email,” Erik said dryly. “But, having done so, we know that Burns is involved, and Avenger isn’t happy about it. This also confirms what we already knew, that Randall Jerome and Jess Stilton were on Pine Mountain that day, intending to discredit me and Rob.”