by Sam Cheever
“You deal.” His voice was hard, unbending, and my gaze shot to his. He held it, not wavering or giving me an inch of wiggle room.
“Easy for you to say,” I told him. I didn’t like the petulant tone in my voice but I couldn’t seem to control it. It was either that or tears. And I couldn’t give in to tears because the last time I had I hadn’t surfaced from the gut wrenching pain for weeks.
He shrugged. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re the only one who’s had pain, Joey.”
He was right. I’d been wrapped up in my own emotions for so long I’d stopped considering what other people were going through in their lives. In that moment I made myself a promise to find out what pain Hal had suffered. His expression was stern, his gaze unrelenting and his body had gone rigid.
He’d suffered a terrible loss of his own.
We sat in silence for several very long moments and then I started to talk. My voice was rusty with heartache at first, unshed tears clogged my throat, but as I trundled down that long-buried path of unexplored memories, it slowly became easier to find the words that made them real again.
“He’s been my Uncle Dev for as long as I can remember. We have pictures of him holding me moments after I was born. Pictures of me riding on his shoulders at the zoo.” I cleared my throat. “He was my father’s closest friend and when I was born they made him my god parent.”
Hal settled back against the cushions and fixed his intense, dark-green gaze on me, his expectant posture urging me onward.
“Dev worked with my father.”
“Doing what?”
I shrugged. “The few times I came outside my teenage self to ask, he was vague. But he drove a truck so I assume he had something to do with acquiring items for the auction side of the business.”
“Tell me about that.”
I reached out and ran a hand over Caphy’s velvet ears, smiling as she gave a dramatic groan and rolled belly up, all four stocky sticks poking straight up in the air. “I didn’t know all that much about it, really. They brought a lot of farm equipment in and sold it on a consignment basis. They’d hold once-a-month auctions and people would come from all over the state.”
“It must have been something to see.”
I swung my gaze to his and found him smiling. I allowed myself to smile too. “Massive, actually. Acres and acres of...stuff. They were known for the quality of the equipment they sold.”
“And lucrative,” he added.
“Yes.” I scanned a look around my home, seeing it as he must be seeing it. It wasn’t hard to do because I’d felt like an intruder in the place ever since the will was read and it was awarded to me. “Dad bought only the best and he made sure he got top dollar for every item. Sellers from around the country came to him, wanting to auction off their goods through Fulle-Proof Auctions.”
“I’m guessing he had to turn a lot of people down?”
My hand stilled on Caphy’s belly and she whacked me with a paw to get it moving again. I would have grinned, but another memory had surfaced that ripped the smile right off my face. “He did.”
“And was that ever a problem?”
“Not for my dad. He was unmovable once he’d made up his mind. But my mother used to go to him and beg him to help a friend. He rarely gave in to her.”
And they’d had horrible fights about it. I shuddered under the memory.
“You told Cox the Feds had bothered your parents a lot over their last couple of years. What was that about?”
My fingers clenched around Caphy’s heavy leg and I went very still. I wasn’t sure I could talk about that. But I had no choice. So, I opened my mouth and forced the words through stiff lips. “They were accused of smuggling.”
Hal blinked in surprise. “Smuggling? Of what, exactly?”
“My parents wouldn’t talk to me about it so I don’t really know. All I know is that they were really worried about something. And Uncle Dev disappeared for a few weeks. I never found out where he went.”
Hal nodded. “I’m assuming the feds believed your parents were passing goods in the equipment they were auctioning off.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “It would have been easy to do. Which was why I’ve always wondered if it was true.” My voice had dropped so low I barely heard the words myself. After a moment of silence fraught with tension, I forced myself to look up.
Hal was frowning, his gaze locked on Caphy’s soft belly. He didn’t speak for a long moment.
Finally, he sighed. “I hate to say it but we’re going to have to talk to the feds.”
“Oh no.” I shoved upright on the couch, my knee bumping Caphy and making her yelp in surprise. She surged to her feet and stood looking around for an enemy. “I’m not giving that jerk what he wants. I’d rather die.”
“That’s exactly the point, Joey. You might die.”
I snorted. “You’re being overly dramatic.”
“I don’t think so. The murder on your property. Devon Little’s disappearance. And now Cox showing up on your doorstep. These are not coincidences, Joey. Something’s happening and I’m afraid you’re right smack in the center of it. The only way to protect you is to know what we’re up against. And, unfortunately, the feds are the only ones who can help us with that.”
I set my jaw and shook my head. “No Cox. I’m not budging on that.”
“Maybe we won’t need him.”
I skimmed him a narrow-eyed look. “I’m listening.”
“I know someone...”
I waited but he didn’t elaborate. “Someone?” I lifted my hands to indicate he should go on but it was his turn to look stubborn.
“I can’t share a name with you until I get permission. But I might be able to get us what we need.”
“Okay. I can live with that.”
“In the meantime, you and I are glued together.”
Before I could stop them, my lips curved up into a wide grin. “If you insist.”
He shook his head, looking amused. “So, how about some dinner? We can talk about next steps while we eat.”
“Um, I dial up a mean pizza.”
He gave me a look. “I don’t think so. My body’s a temple.”
I frowned. My body was really more of a pig wallow than a temple. I generally filled it with pretty much anything edible, and even some stuff that was suspect.
“Do you have food in the refrigerator?”
Hearing the “F” word, Caphy jumped off the couch and started bouncing around, barking with excitement.
“I think I might have some hummus. Maybe eggs. And, just FYI, never say the ‘F’ word around the dog.”
He frowned. “I never say the ‘F’ word.”
“Not that ‘F’ word,” I explained as the cacophony increased to painful proportions. Caphy added running back and forth from the kitchen to the living room to her repertoire, her nails clicking a frantic tune on my hardwood floors. “We spell the ‘F’ word out here.”
He grinned, moving past me and following a bouncing pibl toward the kitchen. “What? Miss Caphy doesn’t spell?”
“Not yet,” I murmured. “But give her time. If there’s food involved she’s highly motivated.”
A mournful howl joined the litany of barking and dancing and I quickly realized my mistake. “Dangit! Now look what you made me do.”
I followed his chuckle and my dog’s noisy antics into the kitchen and headed right for the bin where I kept her food. There was no point trying to have adult conversation until the pitty was fed.
Kibble for the pibl was a priority.
CHAPTER NINE
I repositioned the cushions in the small of my back and settled more comfortably into the window seat. The massive oak tree huddling near the house reached for me, the limbs at the end of the tree’s biggest branch looking like spindly fingers. I’d used the tree a hundred times growing up to sneak out of the house at night.
If my parents guessed what I was about they never said anything. I’d had
my friends wait out of sight on our long drive and I’d hoofed it across the lawn to meet them there.
I smiled, realizing my childhood hadn’t been filled only with bad memories. It would do me good to remember that as Hal and I plodded painfully through my past.
The grass beyond my window was painted in shapes created by a high, bright moon. The clouds that had skittered across the sky earlier, as Hal and I ate a delicious meal of hummus and fried egg wraps on the veranda, had skimmed away without bringing the rain they’d threatened.
A soft breeze, infused with the sweet scent of the roses reaching out to climb warm brick walls far below my perch, caressed my shoulders. Sighing softly, I rested my head against the window frame, letting the night wash over me.
A bullfrog belched its strange song alongside the pond. Crickets thrummed energetically. And, in the distance, an owl hooted a warning to its friends.
My eyes burned with weariness, but if I laid back down I’d just toss and turn. I’d tried to sleep. But Hal’s careful questioning about my parents’ lives and crimes had yanked big, hastily-applied stitches off the memories I’d tried to hide away.
I couldn’t pretend anymore that the bad stuff hadn’t happened.
I could no longer feign cluelessness.
Something had stepped into my world. Something ugly and feral. And my only hope of surviving it unscathed was to look it right in the eyes.
A soft thump had me turning to find my dog padding toward me. She’d been sound asleep when I’d climbed out of bed. Apparently, she’d finally realized I was gone. “Hey, pretty girl.”
Caphy’s tail dragged from side to side in lazy recognition of my greeting. She laid her squishy head on my lap and her tongue swept out to create a warm, wet patch on my boxers. “Am I interrupting your beauty sleep?”
She sighed dramatically and I chuckled. “Sorry, girl.” I patted the cushion of the window seat and she bunched herself, launching effortlessly onto the seat. But rather than circling several times and coiling herself back into her favorite sleeping position, Caphy pressed her wide, wet nose against the screen and snuffled loudly.
“Lots of critters out there, huh, girl?”
Her tail twitched but she didn’t look away. She dropped to her haunches and scanned a searching look over the yard. She was most likely scenting the big buck I’d seen gambol past only moments earlier. “You missed him, I’m afraid,” I told her softly, reaching out to give her soft chin a scratch.
We sat in companionable silence for a long moment, both of us staring, transfixed, through the open window. A comfortable kind of calm crept over me. My eyes grew heavy, and I thought I might finally be able to sleep.
I was on the verge of dosing off, in fact, when I heard the low rumble of Caphy’s growl. My eyes shot open. She hadn’t moved. Her dense form was still framed by moonlight on the cushion near my feet, but she was vibrating with excitement.
I turned my gaze in the direction she was looking, thinking the buck must have returned. The grass around the pond was long and lush, like candy to the grazing animal population living around my house.
But the buck wasn’t grazing by the pond.
Caphy’s growl deepened, the sound thrumming through her body and vibrating against my foot. “What is it, girl?”
Her tail drifted sideways but it was only a half-hearted wag. Her startling green gaze was locked on the window, and the hair in front of her tail was standing on end.
I tugged the frilly curtain at the side of the window back and peered more carefully at the area beneath me. At first, I saw only shadows created by the trees and bushes.
But my instincts told me something lurked below. Maybe someone was looking at me that very moment. Someone trespassing in my life.
Something cold oozed through me at the thought, making gooseflesh pop on my arms and legs.
I eased back from the window, letting the curtain drop to give me cover as I kept my terrified gaze on the yard below.
The shadows danced as another breeze sifted past.
An owl screeched from a tree at the edge of the woods. I jumped at the sound. A painful tightness spread in my chest and I forced myself to breathe. I glanced toward the nightstand, my gaze searching out my phone.
If someone was there...
The shadows danced again and something disengaged from the base of the giant oak tree.
Caphy surged to her feet and her growl exploded into a warning bark. She lunged at the window, hitting the screen and nearly pulling it loose from the frame.
If she hit it again she would rip right through, falling to the ground below.
I shoved past a desire to run and get Hal, and instead wrenched free of the safe space behind the curtain and wrapped my arms around my dog, earning myself a painful scratch on the thigh as she tried to lunge at the window again.
The door in my room slammed open. “What is it?” Hal’s deep voice called out.
It was all I could do to hold onto my dog and he wouldn’t have heard my response anyway, over the din of her frantic barking.
The figure below stood for a moment, his face invisible in the shadows that clung to him, and then he slowly lifted an arm and pointed at me, before turning and taking off across the lawn.
Hal wrapped an arm around Caphy and dragged her backward, off the seat. “Close the window.”
I did as he asked, my gaze finally turning to his. “Someone was down there. He was looking up at me.” As I said the words my body was suddenly encased in ice. I shuddered at the memory of that featureless face focused in my direction.
“Where?” Hal demanded.
I pointed toward the woods. “He took off that way.”
Hal spun on his heel and ran toward the door. “Stay here. Caphy, come!”
My dog didn’t hesitate. She would have gone even without Hal’s command. Unlike me, they were apparently both eager to face the intruder.
In that moment, I just wanted to climb back into bed and cover my head with blankets.
Like I’d done when I was a kid.
But I fought that instinct and forced myself to move. I couldn’t let my dog and a near stranger carry my water for me. Whatever was going on, I was starting to understand that it was most certainly something to do with my family.
It was my battle and, if I was half the man I always pretended to be, I needed to deal with it.
I followed the sound of Hal’s footsteps through the house and then, after the crashing of the storm door, the throaty sound of Caphy’s barking as she bounded across the yard.
There was a shout and my dog gave a high-pitched yelp, and I suddenly found myself plunging through the storm door, running across the porch and flying down the steps as I screamed her name.
Caphy’s yelps had turned frantic, delivered in rapid-fire succession and getting softer as she apparently ran away. I searched the darkness for Hal’s telltale form but didn’t see him. I hoped he was dealing with whatever was hurting my dog.
Tears streamed down my face and panic flared. My feet thudded more quickly across the grass as fear extinguished any hesitation I might have nurtured to that point. The harsh rustle of dry needles stopped me in my tracks and I turned to see a long, low form shoot out of a large evergreen, not ten feet away from me.
The big coyote barely offered me a glance as it took off toward the pond and the woods beyond.
A coyote? My fear turned to panic as I recognized what Caphy’s cries had meant. “Caphy?!” I shrieked into the night. “Hal?!”
Nothing.
I sucked in a deep breath and tensed, preparing to run, just as a hard hand clamped around my arm, and jerked me off my feet.
I stumbled backward, hitting a large form that smelled like smoke and garlic. A rock-hard arm snaked around my throat and tightened enough to make it difficult to breathe.
“Where is it?” a gruff voice demanded in my ear.
My fingers clawed at the heavy arm, feeling the coarse brush of hair against my skin. My nail
s dug into flesh and the taut band of the arm tightened around my throat. He dragged me off the ground and I felt my eyes bulging as I fought to breathe.
“Tell me or you’ll die.”
I tried to shake my head but it wouldn’t move. My lips opened and the arm loosened slightly. “I don’t...” the words caught in my throat and choked me.
“I know they told you where it is. If you tell me I’ll let the dog live.”
Tears slid hotly down my cheeks and I gave a little whimper. “I don’t know what you want. I swear...”
The arm tightened around my throat and stars flashed in front of my eyes. I struggled against the impossible hold, feet kicking and hands digging into the unyielding flesh binding my throat. But nothing softened the hold. And I felt my limbs losing strength. The night grew even darker as my body started to fail me from the loss of air.
Something rumbled in the distance. My oxygen-starved brain tried to identify the sound but couldn’t. And as I fell into the blackness, I felt my captor jerk, the heartbeats beneath my ear accelerating.
Suddenly the band of hard flesh was gone and I was falling, the ground coming up to smack me on the side of the head. I curled into the fetal position, coughing so hard I retched.
The distant grumbling had turned to snarls and the sharp click of snapping teeth. After the coughing I struggled to pull enough air into my lungs, my stomach roiling with the bright tang of nausea.
A husky voice called my name and something heavy and soft curled itself into my body. A warm, wet tongue swiped over my face and Caphy whimpered softly. My arms went around her, holding tight, even as she tensed beneath my arms.
“Joey!” Hal bent over me, his hands skimming hair from my face as I finally cranked my eyes open. Caphy licked the trail of tears from my face. Hal hit his knees on the grass beside me. “Are you hurt?”
I shook my head, struggling to push myself upright. “Just...” My voice was rusty. I cleared it and coughed again as Hal helped me sit. “My throat hurts.”
He ran a fingertip over the tender area, frowning. “You’ll have a bruise.” His frown deepened. “He’s lucky we didn’t catch him.”
