by Helen Conrad
Kate caught her breath, then forced herself to relax. It was surely nothing - with the house so close to the woods, a man out there probably had just lost his way. Once he saw the road and could reorient himself, he'd be able to head back to where he was going.
But wait. He seemed to be coming this way. Suddenly, he dashed across the clearing towards the house, but just before Kate could see who it was, the flame he carried was doused. The world was so dark out there - Kate could barely make out shapes and movements. For just a moment, the cacophony of nature was holding its breath to see what would happen next.
Her heart was beating like a drum. Was this real? Or was she still half asleep and dreaming?
"It's nothing, you big crybaby," Kate said, her breath coming fast. And then she heard the subtle scraping down the stairs, and the unmistakable creak of a door. Footsteps tromped down beneath her. Someone was in the house.
Paralysis hit. Kate was so frightened she couldn't move. She wanted to pretend she was somewhere else. But she wasn't, and she knew that. She also knew she couldn't very well wait in her bed for the intruder—obviously an axe murderer after all. Carefully, trying to hold back the scream that wanted to climb up her throat, Kate stepped down on the carpeted floor. The bedroom she'd had as a child did not seem to have changed since she was gone except for the dust, and she could still find her way around the place in the dark without banging up her shins.
She tiptoed to her purse. Downstairs, she heard heavy boots and the sound of metal clanging. She opened her purse and spilled its contents onto the floor, where it would land quieter. A panoply of junk fell out, including a small taser gun she'd purchased and never used, and her cell phone. She grabbed them both. One roll of lipstick tumbled down along the ground and rolled underneath the small dresser, tapping against the wall as it landed.
Kate bit her lip at the tiny noise. The sounds of the outside seemed to have drowned away. The only things that stuck were the cold that clung to her like a child and the intruder downstairs, moving as carelessly and noisily as a pig in slop—as though he had no idea anyone might be there. Another terrifying sound--like a high-pitched gibbering or squeal. Then a loud SMASH, and the squealing stopped.
Kate opened her cell phone and powered it on. It came to life with a loud beep which stopped her heart for an instant. She was sure the man downstairs had heard it. He was quiet too - there was no noise in the house at all. Then she heard metal clang, and something heavy was whumped down on the ground.
Kate dialed 911 and cupped her hand around the speaker, directing all the sound into her ear. The other end was picked up, and a drowsy voice came on the line. "Hello?"
Great, I'm going to get killed and this cop just woke up. "There’s somebody in my house, I can hear them from upstairs."
"Alright, ma'am, stay calm. Don't do anything to draw attention to yourself, and do not attempt to apprehend the intruder yourself. Can I have your address?"
She gave it to him and waited, heart beating a mile a minute. After a few seconds of silence on the other line, there came a sigh.
"Kate, is this a joke?"
Of course, Kate thought, almost collapsing. Blake.
"A joke? What are you talking about? There's someone in my house!" Kate whisper-shouted into her phone. She heard some noise from the downstairs, and footsteps. Another door was opened, and the low hum of the refrigerator. Kate stood stock still, her heart a painful flutter of fear.
"Kate? Kate, are you there? Look, don't do anything, I'll be there in a couple of minutes." The other end went dead.
If it had been Sheriff Duffy, Kate would know that help was on the way. But it was Blake, and he probably thought she was trying to pull one over on him. Oh no! He wouldn't be ready when he came because of his damned certainty that she wasn't much more than the girl he knew in high school. What if he never came at all?
Just thinking about it got Kate so steamed she was determined not to give in. She flipped the switch on the taser, held it out in front of her, and crept down the stairs.
A yellow light was streaming in from the kitchen, and the refrigerator was humming along. I wasn't sure that thing worked, Kate thought incongruously. She moved down the stairs with a quiet that surprised even her - they were a squeaky lot, but she knew them well. She remembered times when she'd known that playtime was over upon hearing her aunt make the stairs groan and squeal under her weight, coming to demand some service right away.
Kate reached the ground floor and stepped on loose mail and bits of carpeting every chance she got. The light was shifting and shadows stretched from the kitchen to the back wall of the living room. There was an animal squeaking sound, like the squeal she'd heard earlier but softer and more pitiful. She took a quick step and peered into the kitchen.
It was a large man, covered in a hooded plastic raincoat with a wide-brim hat sticking out from under that. She couldn't see his face, but tied on a rope just behind him was a string of dead rats and squirrels. One of them was still moving about on its line, trying to gnaw free but without the strength.
Leaving that poor animal alive and in pain was enough for Kate. She bounded into the room with a snarl, stomping loudly on patched linoleum flooring. The taser was shot off the instant the intruder turned around, and the rush stopped all at once as she saw the face of Joe Bob Mortimer, giving her a smile just before the little electrodes got him.
***
Even I'm not made of stone, Blake thought as he looked at Kate. It was his job to lecture her now on how she'd not only endangered her own life, but could have seriously hurt old Joe Bob, but that lesson was already written in her face by her reddened eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.
And maybe the oppressive feeling of the house helped keep him quiet, too. He hadn't been up here since he'd helped the coroner cart away old Aunt Gladys, and the place had fallen into deep disrepair since then. It must have been more than Kate had anticipated.
"So, I suppose you think you were right about me all along, eh?" Kate said, her voice scratchy from crying.
"I don't follow you," Blake said. He was standing over Joe Bob, holding his flashlight to the man's eyes. He was moving about and murmuring, so it was a good guess that Kate hadn’t killed him like she thought.
"You think I think I had to do this myself just to prove something to you. That's just what you're thinking."
"Not even close," Blake lied with a rough sigh. It was definitely close, or at least in the ballpark. She was afraid to have some man come in and save her day, especially since she was so sure she could do it better. Looked at in context, the whole thing was typical Kate Becker.
"Well, good, 'cause that's not why I did it. I did it to help you."
"Because you could do my job better than I can," Blake said. He knew it.
"No, because you were so sure I was just being a hysterical woman that you were going to come in here unprepared. You knocked on the door, for Pete's sake."
Blake didn't answer, because she got him there. He didn't take it seriously. Of course, since it was Joe Bob he could be considered vindicated, but he knew that wasn't the point. If it had been some sort of monster, Blake would have been in danger and he would have put Kate in danger.
"We both could have been in real danger," Kate said, echoing Blake's thoughts.
She was working up a head of steam, getting ready to not only absolve herself totally of guilt, Blake figured, but to place it all squarely on his shoulders.
"Yeah, Ole' Joe Bob here might have made his sheep nuzzle us to death, or he might have made us try some of his squirrel stew," Blake said, pointing back towards the line of dead animals. Kate looked at them too, obvious disgust registering on her face.
"Gives me the creeps. I just feel awful, Blake. Maybe he got confused, or maybe he thought he was coming to take care of Old Gladys. Who knows what goes on in his mind," Kate said.
"Yeah," Blake replied. "You know, he isn't a baby.” He frowned, vaguely bothered by something and not sure what.
“Just look at him - truth is, he could be dangerous. If he wanted to cause trouble he could be like a... well..."
"Bull in a china shop?"
"I was hoping to find a more original saying, but yeah."
"No way. Not Mr. Mortimer. He's way too gentle. The worst he'd act out would be like... a manatee at a sushi place."
Blake let out a laugh. Of course she'd be better at words than he was. She was a bloody lawyer, after all. Made plenty of money at it too, he wagered. He'd seen her car all packed up as he came into the house. She must be here for a long vacation.
"Anyway, he'd nuzzle us to death with Mr. Sticha's sheep."
"Not anymore. Mr. Sticha's been dead for four years. Left his place and his sheep to Joe Bob here. That's why he likes to be called Mr. Mortimer."
"Oh, wow. I guess more has changed than I thought. You folks should print a bulletin. Once every five years oughta cover it."
Blake was ready to be annoyed by her tone, but once again a strange feeling made him do a double-take. She sounded caustic, but looking into her pretty face, he saw the truth. This had shaken her badly. She felt awful about what she’d done. Or maybe she just felt awful about having to stay in this old rotten place and waking up to find a creepy guy like Joe Bob washing rodents in her kitchen sink. That would stand to reason. That would be enough for most people.
Would it be enough to get her to pack up her car and head back to San Francisco? He could only hope.
But the man was stirring.
"He's coming to," Blake said.
Joe Bob had opened his eyes a couple of times, but this time they were staying open, and he was now working his mouth. He looked around the room and made eye contact with Blake for an instant. It was a shock - his eyes looked strange and different. There was malice there, malice and a sharp intelligence no one would have connected to the man. Blake frowned, wondering if what he’d seen was real or all in his mind. Then all that disappeared and Joe Bob's face crinkled up like it was about to cry.
"What'd I do?" he said. His eyes squeezed tight, and he let out a big sob. "I'm so sorry, Miss Becker. I am. I didn't even think you'd be here. Miss Gladys, she would let me come in after I done my hunting at night and store some stuff here sometimes. She'd sleep right through. I'm just so sorry."
"Oh, there there," Kate said, and she was holding Joe Bob up.
"Don't do this again, Joe Bob," Blake said. Joe Bob looked at him, his eyes still squeezed tight, and he nodded.
"Yes, sir. I won’t never do it again. I'm so sorry."
"Blake, don't scold him. He's had enough to go through. How are you feeling?"
"My head hurts, Miss Becker, and I'm awful thirsty. Think I could have something to drink?"
"Sure," she said, and gently let him down before going to the sink. The pipes sounded like the legions of the damned were shouting to be let free when it first turned on, and then water spouted out.
Blake kept his attention on Joe Bob. There was something strange about seeing the man there, blubbering and moaning like a child. Joe Bob looked at Blake again, and smiled. All the childishness was there that Blake could expect, but that one glance into Joe Bob's eyes still stuck with him. It was like looking at somebody else for a split second.
"Mr. Officer Spanner, do you think that once I've had my glass of water you could give me a ride back to my house? I don't feel up to walking."
"Sure," Blake and Kate said at the same time.
Kate didn't bother looking at Blake. She was rinsing a glass out a few times, and then filling it to give to Joe Bob. A little moonlight was streaming in through the window above the kitchen sink. For a moment, Blake angled his high-power flashlight away from Kate, leaving her in darkness. The light from the moon seemed to caress her as it came in.
She was wearing an over-sized t-shirt, which Blake guessed she slept in. It was baggy but didn't de-sex her. Rather, the folds seemed to press against her with an intelligent prescience, like the shirt itself knew just where a man might like to look and curved there in ways to reveal nothing and suggest mighty intriguing worlds.
"Would you please put the light back here, Officer Spanner?" Kate said in a mock-officious voice. Blake did as she asked. "And I'm not sure what you were thinking, sir, but I could still see you in that light, and I'm not sure I liked where your eyes were headed."
Blake's eyes widened with surprise, and his jaw clenched to keep from saying what he would have liked to. She sure cheered up fast. How Kate could turn this situation into some bizarre pick-up scene was beyond him. It was apparently beyond Joe Bob, too, who was looking between the two of them with a very confused expression between sips of his glass of water.
"Finish that up, Joe Bob,” Blake said through near-to clenched teeth. “I'd like to quit bothering Miss Becker as soon as possible.”
"I still feel so terrible, Mr. Mortimer," Kate said, and she shot Blake a quick dirty look that he couldn't figure. "The minute I get this kitchen up to snuff, I'm going to treat you to a great big steak dinner."
"Aww, that'd be swell, Miss Becker. I could catch some squirrels and.... oh, I bet you rather have cow-steak." His face fell, and he started to look even sadder.
"Well, we'll see," Kate said.
Joe Bob looked up at her and nodded sagely, then he downed the rest of his glass of water in one gulp. "Ready to go, Mr. Office Spanner. Miss Becker, could you grab hold of my things? I think I'm gonna need help walking to the car."
"Oh," Kate said, and her face looked like a new wave of guilt had crashed upon its shore. Seeing that made Blake a bit more cheerful. So the woman was actually capable of remorse. He’d never have guessed. If they could just stop this constant snarking between them, maybe…
No. He grimaced. Don’t even think it. The first order of business around here had to be to get her to head back out of town, pronto. Talk about a magnet for trouble—she just naturally seemed to draw disasters around her. It would be better if she went to have her next crisis somewhere else.
But Blake wasn't feeling quite so bad anymore. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was his innate dislike of poor Joe Bob, but Blake was quite ready to call it a night.
With a bit of assistance from Kate, he was able to prop Joe Bob on his shoulder and walk him to the front door. The big galoot pressed all of his weight down on Blake's shoulder, making him stoop as he walked. Blake wondered if Joe Bob was really feeling all that bad, or if he was just milking it.
Kate walked ahead of both of them, carrying the string of dead animals at arms length like it was a... well, string of dead and stinky animals. At least that was worth a chuckle, Blake thought, but he didn't laugh. All of this was the exact sort of thing he didn't need.
Complications led to thinking and decision-making, and even in as innocuous a situation as this a wrong decision would have consequences, and those consequences would lead to others. That was exactly what he was trying to stay away from.
Kate leaped down the porch and draped the string of dead things along the hood of the squad car. She then hugged herself against the cold, making the curves that her t-shirt suggested all the more explicit. That was another distraction that Blake didn't need.
Oh well, eyes forward, he should be fine.
"Watch out!" Kate shouted, her hand shooting out in front of her as if she could catch the pair of men as they suddenly found themselves hurtling towards the ground. The front boards of the porch were particularly rotten, and with the full weight of the two men being brought right down on one of the worst of them, that section of the porch decided to go.
Joe Bob was lucky, since he had Blake to break his fall. After an instant of pain as Blake both hit the ground then was doubly struck by over two hundred pounds of man on top of him, Kate supplied the appropriate denouement with her snorts of laughter. Blake didn't even think she heard him say goodbye, but just before he left she gave him an appropriate farewell:
"So, when are you going to come back and fix my porch?"
Chap
ter Four
"Come back and fix my porch, can you believe that woman?" Blake said, starting the car and pulling out of the driveway.
"Gosh, Mr. Officer Spanner, I like Miss Becker. She's sure nice to me."
Blake grunted. "Only man I ever met who thinks the person who hits them with a taser gun is nice."
"She didn't mean nothing by it," Joe Bob said.
Blake glanced at him, wincing at the string of dead things in his hands, hoping he wouldn’t leave any behind. His car wasn’t much, but it could do without that. But Joe Bob looked like his old self again.
Still, he couldn’t wipe away the memory of what those eyes had looked like for a moment when he’d first come to. It made him curious. He’d never thought much about the man. Did anyone?
"Well, Joe Bob, I guess you're just more understanding than I am," Blake said.
Joe Bob grinned stupidly. "What d'ya mean, understanding?" he said.
"Just that I wouldn't be so quick to forgive some woman that shocked the life out of me. Say, do you do most of your hunting at night?"
Joe Bob just laughed and nodded.
“And you use Kate’s place to clean your kill?”
“Ms. Gladys, she always told me…”
“I know. But she’s been gone and now Kate’s there.”
“I guess I forgot.”
“Forgot? How could you forget? Her car was right there in front of the house.”
“I go in through the back.”
Blake grunted. “Well, remember next time. Okay? Find someplace else to clean your kill.”
“Sure. I didn’t mean no harm.”
Blake grunted again and headed down the highway. "Come back and fix my porch,” he muttered again. “For Pete's sake.”
***
Kate watched the red tail lights disappear down the driveway and suddenly felt very much alone. She pulled in her arms tightly, hugging herself, then went around to check all the doors and windows. Finally she turned on one of the lanterns that Blake had brought in for her and sat on the couch and stared at the shadows. What the crap was she doing here?
