“I still don’t follow.”
“Forget it. Bad joke. Either way, what I was trying to say is there are a couple of egg salad sandwiches in the bag, and you’ve got coffee. Should hold you for a while.”
Constance reached over and snatched up the thermos bottle by its handle then held it out to him. “I appreciate the thought, but you’d better just go ahead and take the coffee with you.”
“You don’t want it?”
“Want it, yes, but it’s probably not a good idea,” she told him. “Like you said, it’s going to be a long night, and contrary to your metaphorical observations about me when we first met, I’m not really capable of writing my name in the snow.”
CHAPTER 24
12:04 A.M. – December 25, 2010
632 Evergreen Lane
Hulis Township – Northern Missouri
“CHECKING in,” Constance whispered. “All clear.”
She was holding the two-way close, with the microphone pickup just inches from her mouth. She knew she was probably being overly cautious, but so be it. There was an old saying about discretion, and while valor might not necessarily play a part in her current situation, in her mind stealth most certainly did.
She released the talk button and heard a quiet chirp, followed by a quick hiss of muted static. She had the volume on the device tweaked barely into the audible range, so she pushed it up closer to her ear and just listened since she was number one on this Hit Parade.
The ordered cascade for the hourly check-in began, and the reports burped from the speaker, just as they had three times before. Status was announced starting with her, then Deputy Johnson, then Deputy Broderick, and ending finally with Sheriff Carmichael. Each of the men outside relayed a message that echoed hers: “All clear.”
Although it was horribly dark, it wasn’t completely pitch-black on the main floor of the house. Not like it seemed in the basement. There were several now noticeable gaps in the boards covering the windows, so a small amount of light was seeping in here and there, coming from the not-too-distant streetlamps positioned along the lane outside. It wasn’t much light at all, but once her eyes had adjusted, it was enough that it allowed Constance to make out shadows and shapes. That was all she really needed to see for the moment. Of course, a pair of night vision goggles would have been nice under the circumstances, but you made do with what you had.
She gently settled the radio onto the counter next to her, close enough that she didn’t have to fumble for it. Then she folded her arms across her chest and cupped her hands around her elbows. Twisting slowly at the waist, first right, then left, she proceeded to tense her muscles then relax them through several slow repetitions as a way of stretching with an economy of movement. The last thing she needed was to stiffen up and get a muscle cramp.
Not quite four hours had passed since Skip had reluctantly left her alone here in the house. She still wasn’t exactly sure why he had seemed so nonplussed about the arrangement, but at least he had finally dropped the subject without too many objections. His pushing had certainly been enough to make her suspicious of his motive at the time, but the more she thought about it, the less she felt it was enough to elevate him to suspect status.
Especially after enduring those first two hours alone.
They had been the worst so far, at least where her nerves were concerned. Sitting by herself in the cold and dark wasn’t a completely new experience. She had worked surveillance under disagreeable conditions before, but the history behind this house wasn’t exactly your garden variety unpleasant. She knew her own imagination was responsible for the majority of the uneasiness, but she couldn’t help the feeling that Merrie had never really left this place. Maybe that was why Skip had wanted her to have company. He had to know those feelings and thoughts himself. After all, he had been dealing with this for far longer than she.
Constance felt a sudden involuntary contraction in the muscles of her jaw and knew immediately what was coming. She reached up with her hand and stifled the wide yawn as it began. While that first two hours might have been the worst on her nerves, each subsequent minute since then had been a bolus of pure boredom injected straight into her veins. Unfortunately, the tedium was building in her system, and that could easily allow her exhaustion to take over. She knew from all-too-recent experience where that could lead.
Shoving her hand into her coat pocket she dug around then pulled out a small plastic bottle of caffeine pills she had tucked in there earlier. She had forgotten about having them until she had set about digging her flashlight from out of the glove compartment of her car and come across the container. Although she kept the stimulant on hand for emergencies, she tended to put it out of her mind because she actually hated using it. Unfortunately, sometimes it was the only option available, and right now seemed to qualify as one of those “sometimes.” She carefully popped the cap on the bottle and held her palm over the opening as she tilted it. If she remembered the directions correctly, one of the caplets should be approximately the same as a strong cup of coffee. Considering how little sleep she’d had, that probably wasn’t enough. By feel, she used her thumb to work two of them into her hand, then went ahead and swallowed both of them just to be safe.
After recapping and stowing the bottle, she pulled out her cell phone. Christmas Eve had come and gone in a town where the holiday was avoided like the plague. That was just one more thing about all of this that didn’t feel right to her, even though she knew it was just her emotions talking. Still, she didn’t have to allow their disdain for the day to stop her from at least acknowledging it.
Cupping one hand over the display, she thumbed the keypad, sparking it to life. It seemed incredibly bright to her under the circumstances, so for a second she found herself almost squinting. She selected Text Message, and then Ben’s cell number. She was keeping her right hand ungloved, just in case she needed to draw her weapon, so with practiced dexterity, by the glow of the display, she rapidly keyed in, “MERRY CHRISTMAS. LOVE YOU, C.”
She chewed on her lip for a moment, staring down at the seemingly brilliant screen while still keeping an ear out for any noises other than the occasional moan of the wind outside, which had been prevalent all along. Her thumb hovered over the send button, gently caressing it then drawing back hesitantly before brushing against it again. After a moment, she shifted the digit over and tapped the back button to erase the words of affection, effectively reducing the message to a simple Christmas greeting with no expectations or strings. Only then did she finally hit SEND.
Constance watched as the display flashed “1 MESSAGE SENT,” then she shoved the cell back into her coat pocket. It was set to silent mode, so she resolved to check it later for a reply. Surely he was still up. He was like a big kid when it came to Christmas.
She noticed a dim afterimage brought on by the relative brightness of the LCD. It remained floating in her sightline no matter where she pointed her gaze. She blinked and then stared off into space, waiting for it to disappear as her eyes readjusted to the negligible illumination making it to the interior of the house. After thirty seconds or so, she was back to seeing blue-black shadows and shapes.
The caffeine pills she had downed would probably be kicking in soon. After all, she had taken them on an empty stomach, which was probably not the best of ideas, but it was sure to get them into her system quickly. She felt a gurgle flutter through her gut as her body made an attempt to inform her of its displeasure with the aforementioned emptiness.
Annoying as it was, Ben had been dead on the mark with his admonishment earlier in the day. She was pushing herself way too hard and ignoring her body when it told her as much. However, there were times when taking yourself beyond the limit was all part of the job. If she could make it through the next several hours, then she would finally be able to give in and let go. Until that time, however, she needed to stay focused on the task at hand, so since she was doing nothing other than playing the waiting game at the moment, heeding her stomach’s call might we
ll be a good choice.
With a quiet sigh, Constance slowly reached over and found the paper bag of sandwiches. Plucking it off the counter she began to carefully unfold the top. Egg salad for Christmas dinner, not exactly her first choice.
Still, she had to admit, at least a sandwich should be easy to eat in the dark, and better yet, it wasn’t that MRE.
CHAPTER 25
4:47 A.M. – December 25, 2010
632 Evergreen Lane
Hulis Township – Northern Missouri
SHERIFF Carmichael was correct. His wife did make a good egg salad sandwich. In fact, it was excellent. Constance wasn’t sure if she had reached that conclusion because it really was that superb or because she was starving. She supposed it could be a little of both.
Unfortunately, as good as it was, and even though she had eaten it almost five hours ago, the sandwich was still sitting heavy on her stomach. She knew it wasn’t the sandwich’s fault, of course. Most of the blame had to fall squarely on her growing anxiety. She had been waiting all night, and she knew that contrary to what a horror movie might depict, killing and dismembering someone with an axe wasn’t a trivial process. It wasn’t something that could be accomplished quickly. It required a little time and dedication to the task. Since there were only a few hours of darkness left to go before daybreak, she felt sure something should have happened by now.
What was left of the guilty burden for creating the brick in her stomach surely belonged to the half dozen caffeine pills she’d taken over a better than eight hour span. Of course, the lack of sleep they were working to combat certainly wasn’t helping her situation either, so she was caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place.
More than one, when she really thought about it.
She was still sitting in the dark, perched on the kitchen counter just as she had been since Skip had left her here. After a while, the close-in stretching exercises had ceased to help much. She could almost feel her muscles seizing up, so she had switched tactics. Now, every fifteen minutes or so, she would slowly flex her knees and rotate her ankles, then stretch her arms to her sides and rotate her shoulders in shallow orbits while arching her back. The latter was the hardest part, given the constrictions of her Kevlar vest. At the very least the limited movement was keeping the circulation going. What she desperately wanted to do was stand up, really stretch, bend, twist, and walk around. She had been sitting still for far too long and she needed to loosen up. She was sure a bit of movement would do wonders for her stomach brick as well.
It would warm her up too.
While the house had started out like a deep-freeze, it seemed as though it only became worse as the night wore on. She could feel the prickly fingers of the coldness clawing at her joints with each passing hour. She was chilled all the way to the core, and she imagined that at this point the only things standing between her and hypothermia were the insulated undergarments beneath her layered clothing and coat, the Kevlar vest, and the thick wool socks on her feet.
Yes, moving around would definitely help.
But she had to stop thinking about it. Moving wasn’t an option right now, so dwelling on it just added to the torture. It was almost like having a really bad itch in a place you couldn’t reach.
Definitely, she had to focus her mind elsewhere. No matter what the sheriff had said, she was sticking to the stealth approach, and that meant sit here and moving as little as possible until it became necessary.
Focus, Constance, she thought. Stay on task.
She sent her eyes searching through the blue, black, and gray shadows, reassessing the status for the thousandth time. The back door was still secure; it hadn’t budged. The shadows in the hallway hadn’t changed, which told her the basement door was still closed, just as it had been all night. While the front door was well out of her view even if she had light, she hadn’t heard the hinges even creak, and all reports from the outside indicated the house was still secure. However, it couldn’t stay that way if this murder happened.
And, if and when the killer somehow managed to sneak past the eyes outside without being seen, and he was bold enough to come through the front, back, or even a window, he would still need to pass through the corridor in front of her to get downstairs. She had no intention of being duped, as had apparently been the case in the past. This was ending here, on her watch.
Constance still had the volume on her radio tweaked to just barely above a whisper, but that shouldn’t present an issue. It was still audible as long as it was next to her, and besides, for the most part it was so quiet in the house she could hear her own heart beating in her chest. She doubted she would miss a call if something went down outside.
She slowly lifted her arm, rolled it in close to her stomach, then slid her other hand over and pushed up her coat sleeve. Cupping her hand around her watch, she pressed a finger along the side. The dial instantly illuminated and glowed back at her. There were still a little over ten minutes left before the next radio check. Also, according to the calendar she’d referenced before leaving Skip’s office, sunrise was at 7:17. That meant only about two and one-half hours until it would start getting light out. Not much time. If something was going to happen, it would have to be very soon.
This whole operation was starting to look like a total bust. Of course, to hear Carmichael tell the story it was as if the body parts simply appeared out of nowhere, so for all she knew they were already down there in the basement, arranged and waiting to be found.
No, she thought. I don’t buy that. We must have spooked the killer this time…
She was still staring at the digits on her watch face as they clicked from 4:47 to 4:48.
That was when she heard the whimper.
At first, she wasn’t certain that she’d really heard anything at all. The wind had been making a habit of sighing and moaning whenever it blew through the trees outside. Now and then the radio had quietly popped or chirped from random interference or someone inadvertently keying up outside. She would always listen intently, but so far the events had amounted to nothing.
That’s probably what this was too. Nothing.
When she thought about it, what she had imagined to be a whimper had really been just a single thin peep, barely perceptible in an audible range at all. It could have easily been the tip of a blowing tree branch briefly scratching against the siding of the house. However, she had to admit that it sounded as if it was coming from somewhere inside, not outside. Of course, that was explained easily enough as well. It could have been a complaint coming from the countertop after having to support her weight in one spot for so long.
Still, Constance held her breath and even tried willing her heart to pause so that no other noise could interfere, then she cocked her head and waited to see if she could hear the sound again.
Nothing.
She continued to wait, listening intently to the silence.
When she could no longer hold her breath, she let it out in a slow, quiet stream, then shifted as carefully as she could. The countertop let out a single thin peep as she moved, and she softly sighed a measure of relief. There it was, and there was the source. No reason for alarm.
She settled back into her motionless state and tried to relax. However, that unreachable itch was back, and she was once again feeling a desperate need to move. With the way things seemed to be playing out, she was now starting to consider throwing caution to the wind and going for a complete change of position. Maybe even standing up for a while. Her right butt cheek was actually starting to go numb from the cold, or maybe from the lack of movement. In truth, it was probably a combination of the two.
Her heart was starting to settle from its sudden flutter brought on by the nothing noise. At least something good had come of it. The rush was leaving her feeling momentarily energized, and that wasn’t a bad thing. She drew in a deep breath, and thought about the sound, but more than that, her reaction to it.
“You’re imagining things...” She mutely chast
ised herself. “You’re sleep deprived... You’re hopped up on caffeine pills… You’re...”
The rest of the thought was unceremoniously truncated by an obviously male-sounding voice. However, it spoke no words. Its muted cry entered her ears as nothing more, and nothing less, than a surprised and pained yelp, coming up through the floor from the basement.
The adrenalin dump was instantaneous. Constance felt a hot flush come over her as every muscle in her body tensed. She immediately launched herself from the counter, her feet thudding hard against the floor. Stealth had now ceased to be important.
Her right hand went immediately to her Sig, thumb fluidly catching the quick release on the FLETCH holster as her fingers slipped firmly into position and she filled her hand with the weapon. She brought it up and reached back with her free hand, fumbling for a second before snatching the two-way from the counter.
Keying the radio, she yelled, “Backup! Backup NOW! There’s someone in the house!”
She didn’t wait for a reply. She dropped the radio, and it bounced from the edge of the countertop, then clattered across the floor. She was already in motion while pulling a small flashlight from her coat pocket. With a flick of her thumb it was on. Although her eyes had been adjusted to the dark, the powerful blue-white LED beam was now welcome as it bloomed to life.
Holding it upside down with the business end at the heel of her fist, she brought her left forearm up in front of her chest, projecting the swath of light outward. She rested her right wrist atop the other in a stable firing position, cocking her elbows in close as she aimed her eyes down the sights of her weapon. Advancing out of the kitchen she paused at the archway, glancing right to check the front door, fully expecting Sheriff Carmichael or one of his deputies to come bursting through.
No one did. Not from the front, nor from the back.
In The Bleak Midwinter: A Special Agent Constance Mandalay Novel Page 24
