Nick of Time (A Bug Man Novel)

by Tim Downs

  “That way,” Malone said, waving her to the right.

  They walked around to the open side of the excavation and stopped. The hole looked massive from this perspective—the house that would eventually sit on top of it would be every bit as big as Malone’s. The moon, still rising in the distance, threw half the excavation in deep shadow, but in the foreground Alena could see gravel-filled trenches and white PVC plumbing stubs poking up from the ground.

  “Inside,” Malone said. “Over there, right in the middle.”

  When they reached the center of the excavation, Malone pointed to the dirt. “Dig.”

  “What for?”

  “So I don’t shoot you right now.”

  “You expect me to dig my own grave? Forget it—shoot me now.”

  “If I do, I’ll make it hurt.”

  Alena jammed the shovel into the dirt. “They’ll find me,” she said. “It doesn’t matter how deep I dig—they’ll still find me.”

  “Just dig,” he said.

  “Know what I do for a living, Malone? I train dogs—cadaver dogs. Amateurs like you think they can hide a body where my dogs can’t find it, but they’re wrong. My dogs always find the body, ’cause the scent finds its way through anything—even six feet of dirt.”

  “How about concrete?”

  Alena looked around at the excavation.

  “That’s right—they’re pouring the foundation tomorrow. Think your dogs can find you under six inches of solid concrete?”

  She turned to Malone. “He’ll come looking for me.”

  “So what? I’ll tell the sheriff you stopped by, then left.”

  “Not the sheriff—Nick. Nick found the same bug things that I did. He knows what they are and he knows what they mean.”

  “Does he? The bugs only prove that the nurse was negligent, remember? The mattress proves he was trying to cover it up, and you’re the only one who knows about that. Thanks for explaining it to me.”

  “They’ll find that nurse. He’ll tell them everything.”

  “They might find him—but he won’t be telling them anything.”

  “Nick will come looking for me,” she said again, “and he’ll never stop looking until he finds me—even if it takes the rest of his life.”

  Malone smiled. “Then how come you had to come looking for him?”

  37

  Why didn’t you tell me Alena was in town?” Nick shouted.

  “Because you don't invite a woman to a bachelor party,” Donovan said, jerking the steering wheel and slamming his three passengers to the right. The tires skidded on the narrow gravel shoulder and the right rear quarter panel narrowly missed the nearest tree.

  “Take it easy!” Brenton called from the backseat. “I just bought this car.”

  “That’s what you get for being late,” Donovan called back.

  “Last car in is the first car out.”

  “Can we forget the stupid car?” Nick said. “Why didn’t somebody at least tell me Alena was here?”

  “Because she would have ruined everything, that’s why. We went to a lot of trouble to set this thing up.”

  “So you convince me I want to get married, then you get my fiancée killed? Some bachelor party—I can’t wait for my birthday.”

  Pete Boudreau leaned forward from the backseat and put his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Nick—I feel responsible for all this. I’m sure Alena’s all right.”

  Donovan looked in the rearview mirror and saw a pair of headlights veer off to the left. “There goes Ed,” he said. “When he gets close to town he’ll call for backup.”

  “Why in the world would she drive all the way up here?”

  Nick asked.

  “Why do you think?” Donovan said. “You didn’t call.”

  “So she packs her bags and comes looking for me? Note to self: Don’t forget to call the wife.”

  “Are you just figuring that out? What have I been telling you?”

  “Take a right here!” Nick shouted.

  Donovan swerved onto the side road and brought the car back under control.

  “How long has she been here?” Nick asked.

  “Since yesterday afternoon,” Donovan said. “She went straight to Ed’s office and asked about you—he told her he hadn’t seen you. He tried to get her to turn around and go back home, but Ed said she’s as pigheaded as you are—so he sent her to a hotel on the opposite end of town to keep you two apart.”

  “What’s she been doing since yesterday?”

  “Looking for you. She’s been retracing your steps with those crazy dogs of hers.”

  “How could she do that? She wouldn’t even know where to start.”

  “She’s good, Nick—you know that. She found out you went to that lake house—don’t ask me how. She told Ed she went there—she said she saw the bedroom and she saw what you did to it. She must have figured out what you were doing there.”

  Brenton leaned forward. “She found out where you were staying too,” he said. “The Mountain View Lodge, same as me. She came to the hotel looking for you this morning.”

  Nick turned and looked at him. “How do you know that?”

  “Because I had a little encounter with her there.”

  “You had an encounter with my fiancée at a hotel?”

  “Shut up and listen, will ya? I saw her in the coffee shop— somehow she followed me to my room. She knocked on my door, and when I opened it—wham! That big dog of hers was on top of me before I could even move. I’ll tell you one thing, Polchak—you better be extra nice to that woman.”

  “What did she want?”

  “She wanted to know if I was the guy who took a shot at you this morning.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “Are you kidding? Her dog had me by the throat—I lied.”

  “Then she went back to see Ed again,” Donovan said. “She told him she found your hotel. She accused him of lying to her— that’s when she told him she was going back to that lake house.”

  “But why in the world would she go there again?”

  “Beats me. Ed said she got some phone call—then just like that she told him she was going back.”

  “Alena got a phone call? On her cell phone?” Nick stopped to think. Who would have Alena’s cell phone number? Gunner, maybe—but why would she go back to the lake house right after his call? No, somebody was calling her back—somebody she must have called about the lake house. But who— Nick took out his own cell phone and searched for a number in memory. He punched the button, half expecting the phone not to work—but it did. “We must be getting close to town,” he said. “I’ve actually got a signal.”

  “Who are you calling?” Donovan asked.

  Nick held up a hand; after several rings an old man answered: “Hello?”

  “Noah—it’s Nick.”

  “Nicholas! What a coincidence.”

  “Noah, just listen. Did Alena call you earlier today?”

  “Why, yes. You really should call her, Nicholas. She told me she can’t find you—she sounded quite worried.”

  “What did she want to know?”

  “She said a friend of yours had been murdered. She said you were conducting some kind of investigation—”

  “I’m in a hurry, Noah—what did she want to know?”

  “She asked me to identify some puparia—she sent me photographs that she took with her cell phone. I wasn’t very hopeful at first, but as it turned out they were Fannia scalaris, which, as you know, are easily identified by their—”

  “Did you tell her to go back to where she found them?”

  The old man paused. “I told her it would be helpful to have more specimens . . . Is there a problem, Nicholas? I hope that I haven’t—”

  “I gotta go, Noah.”

  “Oh. Will I see you both at the wedding?”

  “Let’s hope so.” Nick closed the phone.

  “There’s the lake,” Donovan said. “Now tell me how to get to
the house.”

  Within minutes they were pulling into the lake house driveway; Donovan killed the headlights before they could illuminate the lake house windows and parked well back from the house.

  “There’s Alena’s truck,” Nick said. “She’s here.”

  Donovan turned to Brenton in the backseat. “Are you armed?”

  “My rifle’s in the trunk,” he said.

  “Get it. Head around to the back of the house; Nick and I will take the front. He’ll ring the bell since he’s a familiar face. Hopefully there won’t be a problem, but if anything looks wrong, we’re going in. If you hear a commotion, join the party.”

  “Got it.”

  “What about me?” Pete asked.

  “No offense, Pete, but this is a little outside your line of work—just stay out of sight, okay?”

  The four men got out of the car and quietly shut the doors; Brenton slipped the Remington out of the drag bag and headed toward the side of the house. When Nick and Donovan passed Alena’s truck they heard a whine from the camper shell. Nick cupped his hands and looked through the glass; he saw Dante’s enormous head staring back at him.

  Nick turned to Donovan. “What time did Alena head over here?”

  “Late afternoon, I suppose—Ed was still at his office. Why?”

  “Something’s wrong.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Alena wouldn’t leave her dogs in the truck all this time.”

  “Then we’re going in. When we get inside I’ll go left and you go right. Check the rooms, see if you can find them—if you do, call out.” Donovan took the Glock from his ankle holster. “Take this. And whatever you do, don’t fire the thing—the last thing we need is you blasting away at shadows. Just hold it where he can see it and wait for me to get there.”

  When they got to the front door Donovan turned to Nick.

  “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Donovan threw his 220-pound body against the door shoulder-first, ripping the latch and strike plate out of the wooden frame and sending the door banging open. The two men separated and quickly scanned the house, but there was no sign of Malone or Alena anywhere. They met up again a few minutes later in the great room that overlooked the lake.

  Brenton spotted them and came in through the back door with rifle in hand. “Any sign of them?”

  “Nothing,” Donovan said. “You?”

  “Nobody out back—no sign of them down by the water.”

  “They’re gone,” Nick said. “But Alena’s truck is here and she left her dogs locked up—Malone must have taken her somewhere.”

  The three men went to the garage and found both a BMW and a light-duty pickup parked in the two stalls. “Two vehicles,”

  Nick said. “They must be on foot.”

  “Yeah—but which way did they go?”

  “I think I know somebody who can help.”

  They hurried out to Alena’s truck and Nick tried the door— it was locked. He looked at the window glass, then at the gun in his hand . . .

  “Gimme that,” Donovan said. “You’ll kill one of us for sure.” He held the small Glock like a hammer and tapped the window near the bottom—the safety glass shattered into a thousand tiny pieces held in place by a thin plastic film.

  Nick used his elbow to shove the broken glass out of the way, then reached into the truck and pulled out a hooded sweatshirt with a maroon Virginia Tech logo. He took the sweatshirt around to the rear of the truck and grabbed the tailgate handle, then turned to the two men: “I’d step back if I were you—you never know what these guys will do.”

  “You’re marrying their master,” Brenton said. “Doesn’t that make you their master too?”

  “That’s a laugh—I’m more like their chew toy.”

  Nick dropped the gate, but to his surprise the three dogs greeted him with wagging tails. “That one,” he said, pointing to little Ruckus. “His name is Ruckus—he’s a tracker.” He scooped up the little dog from the tailgate and set him down by his feet.

  “That’s the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen,” Donovan said.

  “He’s also the smartest.”

  “He’d have to play the cello.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me. He’s a tracker—this dog can find anything.” Nick held Alena’s sweatshirt under the little dog’s nose and allowed him to sniff.

  “Looks like he’s got the scent,” Brenton said. “Now what?”

  “Now I have to find some way to tell him to ‘go find Alena.’ ”

  “Here’s an idea.” Donovan bent down and addressed the dog: “Go find Alena.”

  “He doesn’t respond to spoken commands,” Nick said.

  “He’s not impressing me so far, Nick. He’d better be good at the cello.”

  “He only responds to visual signals—that’s the way Alena trains them. First she snaps her fingers—that’s the operant command.” He snapped his fingers and the little dog immediately came to attention.

  “What happens next?”

  “I can’t remember,” Nick said. “I’ve seen Alena do it, but she’s taught them hundreds of commands—I only know a couple. Wait—I remember this one . . .” He made a fist with his right hand and lifted his little finger.

  Ruckus raised his right leg and urinated on Nick’s shoe.

  Brenton took a step back. “You’re not a chew toy, you’re a fire hydrant.”

  “I think I remember now,” Nick said. He snapped his fingers again, then made a motion with his right arm as if he were pitching a horseshoe . . .

  Ruckus took off like a shot in the direction of the trees. Trygg and Dante both leaped from the tailgate and raced after their tiny companion.

  “Don’t lose them!”

  Donovan and Brenton took off after the dogs while Nick waved to Pete back at the car. “Stay there!” he shouted. “When the police get here, tell them which way we went!”

  “Where is everybody going?”

  “Just tell them to follow,” Nick said, “and make sure they hurry.”

  38

  Alena stood knee-deep in her own grave. She leaned on the shovel and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

  “Hurry it up,” Malone ordered.

  “Why don’t we take turns?” Alena said. “You take the shovel and I’ll hold the gun for a while.”

  “Funny—now get back to work.”

  Alena worked as slowly as she could, hoisting half-shovelfuls of dirt as if each one were enormously heavy. She worked so slowly that she had barely broken a sweat, but still she paused every minute or two to “catch her breath.” But the hole was two feet deep now and she was beginning to worry. She knew Malone didn’t need to bury her six feet under; it was the six inches of concrete that would forever hide her body, not a few measly feet of loose soil. Her grave only needed to be deep enough to cover her body until the construction workers came in the next day and covered the whole area with gravel and concrete—then no one would ever find her again.

  She had stalled as long as possible to give someone a chance to come to her rescue, but she knew now that no one would. Why would they? Sure, she told Yanuzzi she was going back to the lake house, but what reason would he have to follow her here? Alena was the only one who knew what Malone had done; as far as Yanuzzi was concerned, Malone was a model citizen.

  And as for Nick—he never even knew Alena was in town. As far as Nick knew, she was back home in Endor making wedding preparations and waiting for his calls that never came. That’s what bothered Alena most of all: She never found Nick— she never had the chance to look into his eyes and ask him if he really wanted to marry her. Was he running away from her, or would he really have come back just as he said he would? Now she’d never know. In her worst imaginations she had pictured herself standing in front of a packed church, staring at the back door and waiting for a groom who never showed up . . . Now she wondered if Nick would be the one left waiting. Maybe not—maybe neither one of them would show up.
Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

  But what absolutely tore at her heart was that she would never know.

  Then Alena heard a yip and looked up; standing atop the back wall of the excavation, silhouetted in sharp relief against the moon, was a tiny little dog. She lifted her right arm high overhead and snapped her fingers—then she drew an imaginary line with her finger from the dog’s position around the excavation to the spot where she was standing. A few seconds later she heard the sound of panting and the padding of tiny paws as Ruckus bounded across the dirt toward her. She dropped the shovel and caught the dog in her arms, burying her face against its scrawny hairless body.

  “Where’d that dog come from?” Malone demanded.

  “Beats me,” Alena said. “Here, I’ll get rid of him.” Before Malone could say anything she set the dog down, quietly snapped her fingers, and waved him off in the same direction he came from.

  “Was that one of the dogs from your truck?”

  “Hard to tell—it’s pretty dark in here.”

  “Get out of that hole!”

  “What, after all my hard work?”

  Malone pointed the gun at the center of her chest.

  Alena opened her arms to him. “That’s right, go ahead and shoot—let everyone know exactly where we are.”

  Malone stepped forward, grabbed Alena by the arm, and dragged her up out of the hole.

  ***

  “Where’d he go?” Donovan stopped and stared wide-eyed into the darkness under the trees.

  “I don’t know,” Brenton said. “I was following you.”

  Nick caught up to them from behind. “I told you guys not to lose him!”

  “He’s quicker than he looks,” Brenton said. “It’s like chasing a rabbit.”

  “He was headed that way,” Donovan said. “Let’s keep moving.”

  In less than a minute they reached the edge of the trees and stepped out into the clearing.

  “Where are we?” Brenton asked.