Direct sunlight poured into the kitchen through the uncovered windows over the sink, fading beyond the kitchen and making it difficult to see into the family room, where all of the shades were closed. He noticed that the dust was thicker in the kitchen and covered every horizontal surface. Max was quiet, with his tail between his legs. He looked up at Alex and yawned.
I’m nervous too, buddy.
Alex edged forward, careful to navigate Max around any broken glass, wanting to get a closer look at the shotgun damage. The half-wall was capped with a glossy white trim shelf and extended from the back of the house to a point two-thirds of the way across the family room. A white, decorative pillar connected the top of the half-wall with the ceiling. The shotgun blasts were concentrated on the corner near the opening to the family room, punching holes clear through the wall and shredding the wooden trim cap. Surprisingly, the pillar was mostly intact, with only superficial damage around the base. He was perplexed by the multiple blasts focused on the corner of the wall. The intensity of the gunfire was at odds with what he’d seen in the Coopers’ bedroom, where each shot appeared to have had its own deadly purpose.
Wait a minute, I know what happened.
He stopped at the end of the kitchen island and turned around, immediately confirming his suspicions. He saw a bullet hole in the white trim around the doorway leading into the mudroom, and three more holes were visible in the light blue mudroom wall just beyond the kitchen entrance.
Alex’s eyes wandered the kitchen to the left of the doorway. He saw another bullet hole in the refrigerator and one more in the cherry wood cabinet above the stove.
Small caliber. Probably the pistol shots Charlie heard before the shotgun blasts.
He shook his head and turned back around to face the half-wall. The shotgun blasts and bullet holes told him everything he really needed to know about what had happened to the Hayes’. He crept forward, mentally fortifying himself for the scene beyond the half-wall.
The smell intensified and became excruciating as he approached the family room, so he breathed shallowly; a trick he’d learned in Iraq. He caught a quick glimpse of the carnage through one of the holes in the wall, but couldn’t really determine what he saw. He fought the urge to turn around, knowing what he’d find there.
Same as the Coopers’.
He pressed forward, keeping Max on an extremely short lead. The entire family room came into view and Alex stood frozen. An intense anger and hatred arose in him as he stared at the twisted sight in the family room.
The entire room was blanketed in the same dust he’d found throughout the house, but it appeared thicker. He assumed that the fine dust had come from the blasted drywall. Having cut the drywall for his own attic conversion, he knew firsthand the mess it could leave behind.
A light blue slipcovered couch sat against the half-wall a few feet down from the blasted corner, and a rectangular oak coffee table sat a few feet in front of the couch. Paper plates and cups littered the table along with chunks of drywall. He saw that one of the plates held several pieces of thick tubular pasta, partially buried under white powder. Several small caliber shell casings lay covered with powder on the floor near the obliterated corner.
Without actually stepping into the room, Alex leaned in and saw that the back of the corner wall had been vaporized by the blasts, confirming his theory about the layer of drywall dust. Two oversized tan chairs were up against the interior wall of the house, with a large oak table between them. He couldn’t see any damage to the chairs, or the pictures of the Hayes’ that adorned the walls behind the twin chairs.
A large flat-screen TV sat atop a three-foot-high black entertainment center in the corner of the room to the right of a fireplace, appearing undamaged. A small stack of wood sat in a black wrought iron wood carrier on the other side of the fireplace, and a giant family portrait, taken at one of the local beaches, dominated the wall above the fireplace mantel. He saw three rolled up sleeping bags stuffed behind the chair closest to the fireplace.
Now for the body.
Kenneth Hayes was not right behind the wall where Alex had expected to find him. A wide reddish-brown stain, thick and pasty from the drywall powder, extended from the hardwood floor near the corner of the wall to his body lying in front of the coffee table several feet away. A thicker pool of dried blood extended from his torso toward a window-height bookcase underneath the rear picture window which, like everything else, was sheathed in fine powder.
Kenneth lay on his stomach, a gaping hole in the middle of his upper back, squarely hit by at least one blast at close range.
Shot in the back, crawling away.
He glanced again at the bloody trail in front of him and assumed that Ken was also hit somewhere in the chest or stomach as he crouched to fire at his attackers.
All right…that’s one of them. What about the others?
He was pretty sure that Michelle Hayes hadn’t been in the house, having been taken to a triage center by Ken a few weeks before, along with the children. He had heard that Ken had returned with the kids, but not Michelle.
His attention was drawn to the two-tiered bookcase, filled with a mix of children’s and adult books, that extended the entire length of the back picture window. Several board games were stored on the bottom shelf closest to the couch. The end of the bookcase almost reached the corner of the coach, creating an open space in the corner of the room where the half-wall met the back wall of the house. He saw something on the corner walls and walked a few more feet into the room.
The smell of decomposition and feces immediately overwhelmed his shallow breathing trick, and he raised his left arm to his nose to breathe into his Gore-Tex jacket sleeve, which did little to help. Max did not seem to be having any problems with the horrifying odor and was straining on the end of the leash. Alex was convinced that the dog would try to lick the blood-paste mixture on the floor, so he kept a constant tension on the leash to prevent Max’s muzzle from reaching the floor.
That’ll make us both puke.
He stepped toward the fireplace to put a little more space between Max and the body. As he moved forward, he caught sight of a small foot protruding from the small gap between the bookcase and the corner of the couch. His chest tightened, and he started grinding his teeth, immediately fighting back tears.
No, no, no…this…is not happening. This did not happen. NO.
Holding Max’s leash tightly, he edged forward with the knowledge that what he was about to see would stay with him forever. He stopped and stared at the wall behind the corner.
I don’t need to do this to myself.
He tried to rationalize leaving, but finally concluded that he had to be sure. He switched the leash to his left hand and took a few more steps. He continued to edge forward until small quarter-sized splotches began to materialize on the wall just below the arm of the couch. A few more steps and he pulled back when he thought he could see the top of a head appear against the exterior wall of the house.
He backed up a few more feet and almost tripped over Max, staring again at the little foot protruding from the small gap between the couch and bookcase. It lay in a separate pool of blood that extended from the bookcase and reached the coffee table, stopping short of joining the pool of blood spilled from Ken’s body.
I will kill every single one of them for this.
Alex stopped to process the scene.
I can’t leave until I know what happened to all of them. What if one of the kids is hiding in the house?
His shoulders slumped, and he swallowed hard. He carefully stepped back and tied Max to the leg of the oak table between the oversized chairs on the other side of the room before he walked angrily past Ken’s body toward the dark corner of the room.
Several minutes later, he stood with Max in the mudroom, physically ready to leave the grisly scene behind. Mentally, he knew that what he saw in the corner of that room would never leave him.
He spit a few more small chucks of v
omit onto the gray tile floor and wiped the remaining tears from his eyes. The rest of the vomit was sprayed on the couch and coffee table in the family room, some of it ending up on Ken’s body. Strangely, Alex felt terrible about that.
“You ready, buddy?” he asked Max in a normal tone.
Max looked up at him and yawned again.
“I don’t blame you, Max. Well, let’s get out of here. I know some people who can’t wait to see you.”
He opened the door and stepped into the darkened garage. The smell of rotting garbage was a welcome relief to both Alex and Max, who immediately started pulling to get at the trash. Alex fought his way through the debris, pulling Max along the whole way. He got to the door and opened it, nearly tripping on the dog as they simultaneously exited the garage door.
Dammit, Max.
Max started barking and straining against the leash.
What is it now?
“Oh shit,” he mumbled, quickly reaching for the pistol behind his back.
A man stood close to the border of the Murrays’ property, still several yards on the Hayes’ side. Alex’s hand remained behind his back, gripping the pistol and trembling slightly.
Jesus, if I had opened that door one minute earlier.
The man’s body was pointed toward the Murrays’ yard, but his head was turned toward Alex. He was wearing faded jeans and a brown leather jacket, and a black winter cap stretched tightly over his head. Matted, shoulder-length brown hair protruded from the sides of the hat, splayed on the shoulders of the jacket. A goatee unmistakably identified him as Daryll. He held an oversized load of firewood in front of him and stared at Alex, clearly contemplating his options. Keep walking or go for it? A hunting shotgun was slung over his right shoulder.
Alex calculated the range between them to be about forty yards, which was too far for him to guarantee a hit with his pistol; forty yards for a shotgun was also less than optimal. The shotgun blasts in the house indicated that these guys were using “double ought” buckshot, which could certainly reach Alex at forty yards, but would require a proficient shooter.
He hoped that the man kept walking. As much as Alex would like a chance to kill the man in his tracks, he knew that the gun battle’s outcome couldn’t be guaranteed, especially with Max in the middle of the fight.
He wondered if Charlie had a shot, but doubted it. He was pretty sure the man’s position was still obscured from Charlie by the Hayes’ blue colonial, plus Charlie had never called to warn him, which led Alex to believe that Charlie never saw him cross the gap in the first place. Still, he envisioned Daryll’s head exploding from a high-caliber hollow-point bullet.
He nodded at the man and moved his hand around the front of his jacket, making it clear to the man that this was not the chosen time or place for a shootout.
I have a better idea for you.
The man turned his head, walking hurriedly in the direction of the Murrays’.
Alex turned and started running through the snow with Max, who sprinted ahead of him in delight, oblivious to the human drama playing out around him. He kept checking behind him as Max strained at the end of the leash. Alex had a lot of distance to cover, and he was worried that one of the Mansons might try to snipe him with one of their hunting rifles. As he passed the Coopers’ house, he thought about the bag of dog food.
Sorry, my friend. I’ll get that for you later.
He faintly heard Kate’s voice on the radio as he lumbered through the snow and reached into his pocket and removed the walkie.
“Kate? Hey, I can’t talk. I ran into one of them…I need to keep moving,” he huffed into the radio.
“What? Who did you run into? The Hayes? Honey, what’s wrong?” she asked frantically.
“No, not the Hayes. They’re dead. I ran into one of the Mansons stealing wood. Hon, I can’t talk and run here. I don’t want them to take a shot at me. Open the back door,” he yelled.
“Okay…okay, I’m headed down now. Where are you?”
“Just past the Coopers’. Gotta go!”
He stuffed the walkie in his jacket pocket and pulled his pistol out of the back of his pants, then tucked it into the other jacket pocket, making sure the velcro caught on the pocket.
Don’t want to lose this.
He continuously glanced over his shoulder, staying close to the houses, sprinting through the snow when he reached a gap between homes. He was physically wiped out when he reached his own back garage door. He stopped a few feet from the door and knelt, laboring to breathe and feeling slightly nauseous from the combination of sustained exertion and adrenaline. Max moved in and started licking his face. Alex pushed him away and continued to take deep breaths. The door opened, and Kate appeared, still dressed in her pink flannel pajamas. Max immediately ran over to Kate, who bent down to hug him. Alex looked up at her.
“Good thing I didn’t need a rescue,” he said.
She looked down at her outfit. “What? I was on lookout duty.”
“Yeah, you missed one. He was carrying a stack of wood back to their little headquarters at the Murrays’,” he said, still panting.
“Why didn’t you shoot him?” she asked seriously.
“Why didn’t I shoot him? Trust me, I thought about it, but he was too far away and had a shotgun. I did the math, pistol against shotgun. No, thanks. I have a plan to get them all at once,” he said and stood up.
He walked into the garage and kissed Kate. She opened the door to the mudroom to let Max in, and Alex could hear Max’s claws repeatedly scrape the mudroom tile as he tried to build up momentum for a run through the house. Alex locked the door behind him and engaged the deadbolt.
Neither of them had a deadbolt. I wonder if it would have made a difference?
They both stepped into the mudroom, which felt like the Caribbean compared to the air outside.
“I’m sorry I missed that guy…I went to get more coffee. Really, I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”
“Don’t worry about it, honey. Charlie missed him, too. I’m just a little disturbed that he got by both of you in broad daylight,” he reassured, stroking her hair.
“What happened over there?” she asked softly, searching his eyes.
Alex avoided her glance. “You really don’t want to know.”
“The kids?” she asked, embracing him.
Alex stayed silent.
“It’s all right, honey. I love you so much,” she whispered in his ear.
“I know. I love you more,” he replied and held the embrace a few more seconds before freeing himself.
“We should definitely call the police,” Kate said.
“What’s the point? This’ll all be over long before the police show up. They’ll move against us pretty quickly. Probably tonight. I’m gonna use that to our advantage and spring a little trap.” He walked toward the kitchen, leaving puddles of melted snow on the tile floor.
“We’re getting slammed by another Nor’easter tonight. This might have to wait.”
“These guys aren’t going to wait. They’ve killed two nights in a row…that we know of. I have no doubt they’ll be paying us a visit tonight. Storm or no storm, we have to be ready for them,” he said, as he opened the basement door.
“What’s your plan?”
“First, I’m going to talk to Charlie and see if he’s willing to help me take them down. I don’t imagine that will be much of a problem, since he wanted to storm their house last night.” He dropped his head in thought and continued, thinking out loud. “I figure they’ll leave the Murrays’ after dark and make their way behind the houses to get here. I’m going to hit them along the way. Catch them in a crossfire; catch them by surprise. The storm’s timing couldn’t be better actually. They’ll never expect it,” he said and took a few steps into the basement.
“You sound like you’re enjoying this again,” Kate said.
Alex leaned his head back into the kitchen to face Kate. “After what I just saw…you’re probably right to some de
gree. I’d enjoy it even more if I could kill them up close. Slowly.” He vanished into the basement.
Chapter Forty-One
Friday, December 13, 2013
Alex kissed Kate and held her tightly. They were standing several feet inside the darkened garage clutching each other, neither one ready to let go. A frigid wind blew through the back door of the garage, bathing them in arctic air and dusting them with fresh snowflakes. Kate shivered, and Alex broke the embrace, still holding her hand.
“I’ll be fine. Cold, but I’ll be fine. You can talk to me all night,” he said, staring into her teary blue eyes.
“I still don’t understand why you can’t take care of this from the house,” she said, squeezing his hand harder.
“They’ll be expecting some form of resistance at the house. We need to catch them off guard and put an end to this on our terms, not theirs. I don’t want them anywhere near our house. Who knows what kind of firepower they have? Don’t worry, once it starts, it’ll be over quickly. Just keep the kids in Ryan’s room tonight. That’ll put the most house between you and whatever happens out there…”
“I’ll be sitting in a chair, keeping watch on that house. If I see anything, I’ll buzz you on the walkie.”
“I don’t think you’ll be able to see anything, but that’s fine. Just make sure you don’t have any lights on behind you, and when I tell you to get into Ryan’s room, you have to promise me you’ll do it. Promise me.”
“I promise,” she said.
I don’t believe her for a minute.
“No matter what you hear outside, stay with the kids, and keep the Sig Sauer with you at all times. Remember, there’s no safety on that gun. You just pull the trigger and boom. Remind the kids of that again, especially Ryan. All right, it’s getting darker, and I want to be in position when the light is gone,” he said, kissing her one more time. “I love you.”
“I love you more. Be careful. Those people are…” she trailed off, letting go of his hand.
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