by Terri Reid
“And why are you more than great?” Margaret asked with a wide smile.
“Because tomorrow is Thanksgiving,” she said. “And everyone is coming.”
“Well, that’s a good reason to be more than great,” Margaret replied, hugging Clarissa again.
Sliding her feet off the coffee table, Mary sat up. “Don’t I get a hug, too?” she asked with a smile.
Clarissa hurried over to hug Mary, and then she lightly patted Mary’s tummy. “Hi, Mikey,” she said. “I’m home.”
Mary’s stomach shifted, and Mary looked at Clarissa. “I think he knows your voice,” she said. “He always kicks when you get home.”
“He just can’t wait to meet me,” Clarissa said confidently.
Timothy chuckled. “Aye, he can’t wait to play with his big sister.”
Bradley walked across the room and gave Mary a kiss. “How was shopping?” he asked.
“Well, we left a few things on the shelves for everyone else,” Mary said, “but not much.”
“Great,” he replied. “I’m starving. What’s for dinner?”
Mary glanced at her mother, and Margaret shook her head. Then Mary looked back at Bradley. “I’m thinking pizza delivery sounds just about perfect.”
Chapter Forty-one
While Clarissa and Timothy played with Lucky on the floor in the living room, Mary, Margaret and Bradley cleaned up the remainder of the pizza and started getting things started for the next day’s dinner.
“Bradley, if you keep eating the slices of apple, there won’t be anything left for the pie,” Margaret teased as she watched her son-in-law snatch another cinnamon and sugar coated piece of apple.
“Sorry, Ma,” he said, although there was a complete lack of sincerity in his voice. “These are just so delicious.”
Mary tossed him the peeler. “And now you need to peel another apple,” she said.
“My pleasure,” he replied before snatching one more slice.
“Bradley,” both women called at the same time.
Chuckling, he picked two apples out of the bag and held them up. “Two, okay?” he teased. “And I’ll try to control myself.”
Mary looked over her mother’s shoulder and watched as she worked the lard into the pie crust. “Someday,” Mary said, “when I’m not so stressed about everything turning out perfectly, I want you to teach me how to do that.”
Margaret stopped. “I can show you now,” she offered.
Mary shook her head. “No, you concentrate on this crust, and I’ll fill the ones you already made with pumpkin,” she said.
“Don’t forget to check the oven,” Margaret warned her.
“Oh, that’s right,” Mary said. “I almost forgot.”
She hurried over to the oven and pulled out a cookie sheet. “I got them just in time,” Mary said. “Ma, do you have a built in timer in your head, too?”
Margaret laughed. “Sometimes I wonder if I do.”
Mary brought the hot cookie sheet over to the counter to cool, and the scent of cinnamon-sugar drifted throughout the house. Bradley stopped peeling and looked up. “What’s that?” he asked.
Mary turned to her mother. “What is this called?” she asked. “Officially?”
“Leftover crust with butter, sugar and cinnamon,” Margaret replied with a chuckle. “Officially.”
Bradley put the peeler down on the table and walked over to the counter. “It looks amazing,” he said, scooping up a piece of the flat, flaky crust. “Ouch, it’s hot.”
Mary grinned. “Really?” she teased. “Because I just pulled it out of the oven. I don’t know why it would be hot.”
“Smart aleck,” Bradley replied, and after tossing the hot pastry between his hands, he quickly popped it in his mouth.
“Ah…ah…ah!” he said, open mouthed as he chewed down. “I don’t know why I thought putting it in my mouth would be a good idea.”
“How does it taste?” Mary asked.
“Aside from the third degree burns,” he said, “delicious.”
Clarissa and Timothy came in from the living room. “Can I try some?” Clarissa asked.
Mary slid a piece off the cookie sheet and onto a cooling rack. “Sure, sweetheart,” she said. “But give it a minute to cool, okay?”
Timothy reached over and copied Bradley’s actions, popping the still-hot treat into his mouth. “It’s good,” he said, waving into his mouth.
Margaret shook her head. “It’s like having another child,” she teased.
Mary felt the piece on the rack, and it had cooled down. “Okay, Clarissa, you can try it now,” she said.
Clarissa bit into the flaky, cinnamon-sugar coated crust and closed her eyes in delight. “This is really good,” she said. “Are we having this for Thanksgiving?”
“No,” Mary said. “This is for tonight.”
“Really?” Clarissa and Bradley both asked.
“Yes, really,” she replied with a smile. “This is the reward for those who make the pies.”
Bradley scooped up another piece. “Good thing I did the peeling,” he said. “I qualify.”
Clarissa started to speak when a noise caught her attention. She turned to see her kitten trying to climb into the fireplace. “Look,” she laughed. “Lucky’s attacking the chimney.”
Mary turned to see the kitten standing on her hind legs pawing at the chimney. “That’s odd,” she said. “I wonder if something flew in.”
She wiped her hands on a towel and then walked toward the fireplace. She was about to kneel down next to the kitten when a fat, ghost rat fell onto the cold, empty grate. “What in the world?” she exclaimed.
She jumped back, and a moment later a rush of white rats started to stream into the living room from the chimney. “Gross,” she called out as Lucky tried to attack the phantom rodents.
“What? What’s wrong?” Bradley asked rushing to her side. She grabbed his arm and he could see the deluge of the animals.
Suddenly, the ghost rats started coming up through the cold air register on the floor. Without thinking, Bradley grabbed a cushion from the chair and slammed it over the register, but the rats drifted through the cushion and continued spilling into the room.
“Mary, what’s going on?” her mother cried.
“Mom, I…we…” she turned to look at Bradley and raised her hands in confusion.
“Ma, we’ve got a ghostly rodent issue,” Bradley called out.
Reacting swiftly, Margaret covered all of the exposed food in the kitchen. “Mary, they must be wanting something from you,” she called.
“Look, Lucky wants to go down into the basement,” Clarissa said, turning toward the basement door.
“Clarissa, no,” Mary called, but it was too late. The door was open, and another stream of rats were pouring into the house.
Mary stood up. “Ma’s right,” she said. “They want something from me.”
“Mary, these are rats, not Lassie,” Bradley said.
“I’ve read that lab rats are highly intelligent,” Timothy inserted. “And the street rats in Chicago are nearly human.”
“Ma, I’m going to go out with Bradley,” Mary said. “I think they’ll follow us.”
“You go, darling,” Margaret replied. “We’ll put Clarissa to bed.”
“But how will we know if all the rats are gone?” Clarissa asked, watching her kitten race around the room.
“Lucky will show us,” Timothy said.
Mary and Bradley grabbed their coats, and Bradley pulled his gun out of the safe.
“Do you really think we’re going to need that?” Mary asked.
Bradley shrugged. “Well, if it has anything to do with Granum, we just might.”
They hurried from the house and were relieved to see that the rats were following them, pooling around the cruiser. “This is just plain gross,” Bradley said as he helped Mary in the car.
“Could be worse,” she said when he climbed in.
“How?” he asked wh
en Mary placed her hand on his arm so he could continue to see them.
“They could have been experimenting on snakes or spiders.”
Chapter Forty-two
Bradley put the cruiser in drive and slowly started down the street, trying to avoid hitting the rats.
“Bradley, they’re dead,” Mary reminded him. “It’s okay to speed up.”
He glanced at her and then shook his head. “Never a dull moment,” he muttered, looking back at the road and accelerating.
She bit back a laugh and turned to watch the rats as they slowly moved from around the sides of the vehicle to in front of them. “I can’t believe it,” Mary said. “But it really does look like they’re leading us.”
“Pa, Timmy’s in the well,” Bradley said in a high-pitched squeaky, rodent-like voice.
Mary nearly choked as her laughter bubbled up. “Okay, you’ve had way too much sugar today,” she said. Then she shook her head to clear it. “I’ve had too much sugar today too.”
She looked far ahead to the front of the rat stampede and realized they were heading out of town. “I think they’re leading us out of town,” she said. “I bet you they’re taking us to Granum.”
“Well, that’s not going to do us a whole lot of good,” Bradley said. “Because Granum is locked up nice and tight for the holiday, and I don’t think I can get a warrant issued because dead rats showed up at my house.”
Mary nodded. “Yes,” she sighed. “They’d probably lock you up.”
She thought about it for a moment and then smiled. “Can you get hold of Alex?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yeah, give me a second,” he said. He accessed his phone, and soon Alex’ phone number was dialed and ringing.
“Boettcher,” Alex answered.
“Hey, it’s Bradley and Mary,” Bradley said.
“What’s up?”
Bradley glanced over at Mary and lifted his eyebrows. “You get to explain.”
“Hi, Alex. We got a lead, and we need to get into Granum. Tonight. Actually, like in ten minutes,” she said.
“Is it something I can get a warrant for?” he asked.
“Not unless the judge is Walt Disney,” Bradley muttered.
“What?” Alex asked.
“Nothing,” Mary said, shaking her head at Bradley. “But, no, it’s nothing that will stand up in court. But I have another way.”
“Okay. What?” Alex asked.
“Call Angela Tate and ask her to meet us and let us in,” she said.
“Mary, tomorrow is Thanksgiving, not Christmas,” Alex said. “You don’t get presents like that.”
“When you call her, just mention that you’d like her to open up Granum for us, or you’d like her to tell you about the medical approval procedure for having deviated septum surgery,” Mary replied. “I’m sure she’d rather come down tonight.”
“Is this some kind of code?” Alex asked.
“Something like that,” Mary said. “And I think it’ll work.”
“Okay, I’ll try it, and I’ll call you back.”
The phone disconnected, and Bradley pulled on to Highway 20, still following the rats. “Deviated septum surgery?” he asked her.
She shrugged. “Just girl talk in a bathroom,” she replied.
“You learn a lot of stuff in bathrooms,” he said, shaking his head in wonderment.
“I know, right?” she said with a knowing smile. “And that’s why we always go in pairs, so we have a witness.”
He grinned. “Well, I knew there had to be a logical reason.”
The phone rang, and Bradley pressed the button to link it to the hands free device. “Alden,” he said.
“I don’t know what a nose job has to do with getting us entry to Granum,” Alex said, “but she’s going to meet us there in ten minutes. No questions asked.” He paused. “Are you going to tell me more about this?”
“Not if I don’t have to,” she replied. “I think silence is a good trade for access.”
“Okay, I’m leaving the house now,” Alex said.
“We’re almost there,” Bradley replied. “But we will wait in the parking lot until you get there.”
“Thanks,” Alex replied. “And Mary, I’m glad you’re on my side.”
Mary smiled. “Thanks, Alex.”
Chapter Forty-three
The rats were swarming the building when Mary and Bradley pulled up into the parking lot. One side of the building was covered with white ghost rats as they climbed up to the third floor and then disappeared into the windows.
“Third floor,” Bradley said.
“There’s no place like home,” Mary replied. She looked around the parking lot. “But there aren’t any cars here,” she said. “I don’t understand why they brought us here.”
“Maybe they drew a map on one of the white boards, and they need to show it to us,” Bradley suggested.
Mary’s lips thinned as she looked at him. “You are not taking these rats seriously,” she said.
“Did you just hear yourself?” he asked. “These are animals. Dead animals. I don’t think they know what they’re doing.”
“They came all the way to our house to get us,” Mary said. “They must have some kind of plan in mind.”
Bradley was quiet for a moment and then finally turned to her. “Have you ever seen a horror flick where the people are consumed by trained rats?” he asked, his voice soft and ominous. Then he starting humming a song about a rat, made famous by Michael Jackson. “Ben…”
“Stop it,” Mary insisted, rubbing her arms. “You are really creeping me out.”
“Mary,” he whispered. “I don’t think we should go in there. Bad things could happen.”
She lightly slapped his arm. “Okay, get serious,” she said. “There really could be something to this.”
He nodded. “And if there’s not?” he asked.
She took a deep breath. “Do you have another pen you could lose?”
He chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, I do,” he said.
Two cars pulled into the driveway, one right after the other. “Well, here’s to the rats,” Bradley said, and then he lowered his voice. “I hope they’re not hungry.”
“Stop it, Bradley Alden,” Mary warned
They got out of their car and met Alex and Angela at the front door.
“This had better be good,” Angela said.
“Oh, it’s good alright,” Bradley said, his tone serious and professional. “And we appreciate your cooperation.”
She opened the front door and let them into the lobby. Walking over to the reception desk, she leaned over to the inside and flipped on a switch. The lobby was illuminated with lights. “So, where do you want to go?” she asked.
“The lab,” Mary said. “We need to go upstairs to the lab.”
They took the elevator up, and when the door opened, Mary saw a group of rats congregating in front of the elevator. They met her eyes and then turned and ran down the hall towards the lab, their squeaks echoing in the hall.
“What’s that noise?” Angela asked.
“I didn’t hear anything,” Alex said.
Angela shook her head and then shrugged her shoulders. “Must be my imagination,” she said.
Mary remembered when the rat had fallen on Angela in the lab and she had reacted to it. She wondered if Angela was sensitive to ghosts.
“No, I heard it, too,” Mary said. “It sounded like squeaking.”
Angela nodded. “Yes,” she said, looking around. “That’s right. I hope none of the rats have escaped.”
Angela hurried down the hall towards the lab, Alex at her side and Mary and Bradley farther behind.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Bradley whispered.
“What?” Mary asked, hoping she wouldn’t be sorry for replying.
“What if it’s a trap, and the dead rats have freed the live rats?” he said. “And they are all waiting to ambush us in the laboratory?”
She stopped walki
ng and stared at him for a moment. “You do realize that your son can hear you, right?” she asked. “Do you really want Mikey to know his daddy torments his mommy?”
Bradley placed his hands on Mary’s belly. “Shhhh, Mikey, don’t listen,” he whispered. Then he leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on Mary’s lips. “Okay, no more tormenting. Let’s go see what your rat friends want.”
Chapter Forty-four
When Mary and Bradley turned the corner in the lab towards the work stations, Angela was already coming out of the rat room. “The rats are all caged up and quiet,” she said. “I don’t know what I could have been hearing.”
But Mary knew. The workstations were covered with rats, climbing over each other and dropping off the ends of the desk as they swarmed the area.
“We need to go through the workstations,” she said. “And I think we should start with Chandler’s.”
“Angela,” Alex said. “Can you get us the password to his computer?”
She stared at him for a moment, and Mary saw him mouth the words deviated septum. Angela nodded quickly and left the room.
Alex turned to Mary. “That’s a magic phrase,” he said. “Do you think it will work on other women?”
Mary smiled. “No, I don’t think so.”
Bradley opened the drawers to the desk and found a number of hypodermic needles with a clear liquid inside of them. “What the hell is this?” he asked.
“Don’t touch that,” Angela called out. “It’s ketamine.”
“Isn’t that a date rape drug?” Mary asked.
Alex nodded. “Well, it used to be,” he said. “But it could still be found in the girl’s system up to three days later. So now a newer, less traceable drug is being used.”
“Yay for progress,” Mary replied.
“Why would Chandler have ketamine in his workstation?” Bradley asked Angela.
“It’s veterinary grade,” she explained. “It can be used when we do experiments on the rats so they’re more cooperative.”
“But why isn’t it in the rat room, instead of the drawer of his workstation?” Mary asked.
“Chandler,” she paused. “Chandler has a unique way of working with the rats and, quite frankly, to prevent any problems from places like PETA, we just let him quietly have his way.”
