by Mark Stewart
THE BREEZE blew at speed across the surface of Aura Lake, causing the temperature to drop three degrees. Young constable Roy Adams noted the rising full moon as he sat shivering in his police car. He still felt angry at not having his objections heard hours earlier over the phone to his Sergeant. For hours, he inwardly chewed over his conversation hoping to learn how he could make certain this sort of stakeout would never happen again.
“Why should I do a stake out, especially when a two-bit city cop did the ordering?” he moaned.
He stepped down from the car. Seeing a clump of gravel, he kicked it into the darkness. Roy hitched up his pants and surveyed the area for the umpteenth time. Adams rolled a cigarette, extracted his lighter and lit the end. He stood, leaning against the side of the car, inhaling the smoke. He exhaled and watched the smoke rise into the charcoal coloured sky. After consuming half the cigarette, he walked to the nearest tree, unzipped his fly and watched the steaming flood travel down the tree trunk and onto a small clump of weeds.
“You, possum in the tree, it’s not fair. First, I was dragged away from my barbeque and on my day, off. Now I’ve been informed I’m stuck here all night because Jack has taken a sickie. There’s nothing up here except you, me, the trees and the lake. I’m going to use this stake out to net me big bucks and a possible promotion. I’ll make sure the boss thinks I’ve done a great job. The hardest thing will be to stop dying from boredom. Nothing’s getting past me or come in COOEEE of the house.”
“Excuse me, Sir.”
Adams jumped. Turning his head to face the voice, his cigarette fell to the ground.
“Sorry. I’m a little embarrassed. I haven’t had a piss for hours.” He smiled, zipped his fly, straightened his gun belt and ran his long thin fingers through his tight curly red hair. “Can I help you, Miss?”
“I hope so; I am lost.”
Adams raised his eyebrows at the young woman staring at him.
“It’ll be my pleasure to help,” he announced. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“I am Doctor Ashlee Clarke.”
Adams raised his eyebrows for the second time. He studied her from head to feet.
“I’m real pleased to meet you, Miss or Mrs?”
“I am un-hitched. You are?”
“I’m Constable Roy Adams.”
“A police Constable; how fortunate. You must have a very exciting job.”
“It can be.”
“I am trying to find the Armanti residence.”
“Why?”
“Someone called for a doctor.”
“I can’t let you pass beyond this point alone. However, I can escort you. The house you are looking for is at the end of this driveway.”
“It sounds to me you are pushing for a promotion. You must be a top police officer. Stakeouts are dangerous. You have to be ready for the unexpected,” warned Dr. Clarke, looking sideways at the Constable.
“I didn’t realize I was so transparent? How did you know I’m on a stakeout?”
“Why else would you be standing all alone in the dark? Do you have a spare cigarette? I seem to have lost mine.”
Roy pulled his opened packet out of his shirt pocket.
“Call me Ashlee. Can I call you Roy?”
“Sure,” he replied.
“The name Roy sounds so manly. I’d love to have your phone number.”
“I’m not certain if I should.”
“We can swap numbers,” suggested Ashlee. She slowly exhaled cigarette smoke into Roy’s face. “Maybe if you ring me we could go out for dinner one night. In case you need more details for your report on your stake out.”
“Your voice is very easy to listen to. I sure am tempted.”
Stepping closer, Ashlee reached out, fingering one of his shirt buttons.
“You have lovely blue eyes,” stammered Roy.
“You say the nicest things. I love this dark, isolated place.” Ashlee kissed him on the cheek. Fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, she began to undo each one starting at the top. “I feel like making love in your police car.”
“I like a woman who knows what she wants.”
“I see an opportunity and go straight for it.”
Adams threw his shirt to the breeze. Stepping over to the car, he opened the door.
Ashlee stared at the rear seat. Doubt was etched on her face.
“The space looks a little cramped for the three of us.”
“The three of us?” questioned Roy.
“You, me and your gun,” explained Ashlee. She puckered her lips and blew him a kiss.
Adams grinned. Unbuckling his gun belt, he dropped the weapon and his pants onto the front seat.
“Roy, you dive onto the back seat, I’ll join you in a moment.”
“If you hurry you’ll get a big surprise.”
“Did you hear footsteps?” whispered Ashlee.
“No, it’s the wind blowing through the leaves.”
“Listen, there it is again. The noise doesn’t sound like leaves moving.”
Adams sat straigh-backed on the seat. H e grabbed hold of the woman’s hand.
“I hear nothing except my thumping heart.”
“Ashlee Clarke.”
Her pupils enlarged at hearing the deep voice. Looking over her shoulder, she stared into the darkness.
“I’m scared.”
Roy started to climb out of the car.
“Ashlee, what have I told you about men touching you?”
“What’s going on here? Show yourself.” Adams stepped down from the car.
Ashlee pushed him back onto the seat. “You should listen. I know the voice. I’ll smooth things over.”
A balaclava-clad face peered through the open door. “Stay in the car and don’t move.”
Adams heard a hand hitting Ashlee’s face. He leaned over the front seat, swiping up his pants.
“Hey punk, I told you not to move,” growled the balaclava-clad man.
“What’s going on?”
“Questions questions always questions. You’re a smart cop, work it out.”
“Who are you?”
“Name’s Patrick,” he jeered. “I’m Ashlee’s bodyguard.”
“I’m speechless,” mumbled Adams.
“No, you’re not. Be advise;, you soon will be.”
“Explain?”
“You were going to touch Ashlee. You’ve been very naughty. I fix problem. Do you understand?”
Adams slowly nodded when he saw a gun pointing at him. Before he could make another move his body flopped sideways across the rear seat. A moment ticked off before Roy exhaled for the last time.
“Hey Ashlee, let’s go see who lives in the house at the end of this driveway.”
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
