by Cat Connor
He threw his hands up in surrender. “If you say so.”
“Mmm, I could eat two whole pizzas about now.” I wasn’t hungry, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t eat pizza if it turned up. “They’d better be Meat Lovers from Pizza Hut, pan crust with barbecue sauce.”
“Hell, yeah,” Mac replied.
It had become oddly quiet outside our room. I couldn’t hear his Mom’s customary hollering or his father’s patient yet firm responses.
“Are you thirsty?” Mac asked.
“I am.”
“Let’s go see what we can find to drink.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We walked along the hallway into the living room. There was no one around. We checked the dining room and found that, too, devoid of human occupation.
“Wonder where they are?”
“Basement,” was my guess. I dragged Mac into the kitchen. “Thirsty here!”
Mac took a bottle of juice from the refrigerator. He poured us a tall glass each and managed to spill juice all over the spotless scrubbed countertop.
I took my glass and went to sit at the dining table. On my way from the room, something outside the window caught my eye. I stopped and looked again. Whatever it was, disappeared. Mac, wiping down the, didn’t seem to have seen anything.
“I thought I saw something outside the window.”
Mac looked out. “All I see is dark.”
Yeah, well, me too, now!
“Hallucinations,” he offered as an explanation.
“Yeah. Could be.”
Mac chuckled.
I sat at the table and drank some juice. I watched Mac pick up his glass and turn off the kitchen light.
He froze in the dark room, staring at the window.
“What?” I asked.
“I thought I saw something.”
I flicked the dining room lights out. From the kitchen doorway I peered through the window, looking past Mac’s reflection into the night. “Can you see anything now?”
Mac studied the vista beyond the reflective glass. He turned and grinned. “Nah. I think I am a bit spooked is all. Just the wind moving the branches.”
We stood facing each other in the darkened room. “That’s understandable,” I said. Unease built rather quickly, and with it came a familiar phrase, things aren’t always as they seem. “Are the doors locked?”
“Should be, Dad’s forever locking them ...” He paused. “And my crazy mother is forever unlocking them. Best we check.”
I watched his hand slip to his hip and then a blur of confusion settle on his face. I knew what he was looking for, and where our guns were. “In our room.”
“Well, fuck!” Mac cursed. He crossed the kitchen floor and checked the back door lock. Satisfied he hurried back and grabbed my hand, leading the way through the dark dining room and out into the dimly lit hallway. We walked toward the front door.
It too was locked but not bolted. Mac reached up and slid the bolt home. We stopped at the top of the stairs on our way down the hall. There was nothing to hear.
“What the hell?” Mac’s confusion grew. “I should at least be able to hear my mother yapping.”
You’d think, considering the woman never stopped talking, not even to pause for breath.
Something niggled at me, gnawing away inside my head. What if he were tracking us another way? What if that email referring to Mom and Dad weren’t a stab in the dark? What if he knew all along where we were? A growing feeling of dread spread through my stomach.
“Weapons,” I said, and hoped I didn’t sound as worried as I felt. We turned off lights as we passed switches. That plunged ninety percent of the house into darkness. Mac picked up our guns from the dresser. I took mine from him holding it awkwardly in my left hand. Mac was in danger of a friendly-fire hit if I had to shoot left-handed.
“Damn. I hope I don’t have to shoot. This could go badly.”
“How badly?”
“It’ll hurt you more than it’ll hurt me!”
He almost smiled then moved past me to the closet and pulled a heavy box out into the room. He removed a flashlight and checked it worked.
My mind spun through the thoughts that wouldn’t leave me alone. How else could he have found us? We could be carrying a GPS bug. I stared at my gun. The temptation to throw it across the room was strong. What did I have with me the whole time? I felt as though my life was draining away. “Mac?”
“Shit, you okay?” He stood right in front of me holding my arms just above the elbow. “Ellie? You feeling all right?”
Hell no, I don’t feel all right!
I struggled to speak and keep my voice composed. “What have I had with me all the time?”
“Sit.” He pressed me to sit on the bed, so I did and waited for his answer, which would match mine. “Your wallet, badge and gun.”
“Would you get my wallet and badge?” I had difficulty keeping alarm from my voice. There was something odd going on in the house, and we could’ve been carrying a bug this whole time. He could already be here.
Mac placed the items on my lap.
“Have I changed the magazine in this gun since this began?”
He shook his head. The stone-cold feeling grew in my tummy, forcing itself upward. I searched my wallet: nothing to indicate any tampering at all. My badge, the same, no evidence of anything hidden in the seams of the leather case or anywhere else. That left my gun or more accurately the ammunition in the magazine.
“What are you looking for?”
“GPS bug about the size of a vitamin pill.” I released the clip and dropped the magazine onto the bed. “If he’s bugged me, the only place left that I can think of is a doctored round.”
“You really think he could have? How many people have access to your weapon?”
“Not many. If I am carrying a GPS bug inside a bullet then it points to someone close to me.” I removed all the rounds from the magazine and ran my fingers over them. All brass. All intact. It was unlikely that a GPS transmitter was inside a brass casing. The metal might interfere with its ability to work. I reloaded, satisfied that I wasn’t carrying a dummy round or a bug in my magazine. “Where else could it be?”
“What else hasn’t changed?”
I shrugged. “I need to think and we need to find your parents and Caine.”
Wishing hard seemed like my only option at that point. So I wished that the Unsub wasn’t here and that they were okay.
“Let’s do it. We’ll worry about this bug later.”
“Agreed.” I forced the thoughts of GPS aside for the meantime. We had no proof a bug existed. Where could it be? Even if it were a bug, it was too late to destroy it.
Mac pocketed his cell phone and picked up the flashlight. He flipped the light switch as we reached the door. A blanket of darkness descended over us along with an unnerving silence.
I touched his arm and whispered, “We’ll secure the house room-by-room starting up here, bedrooms, living areas, then basement.”
“Okay.”
“Safety off, finger out of the trigger guard. At each room we come to, keep to the hinge side of the door.” Even though I whispered, my voice seemed to carry in the dark. I half expected to hear an echo.
“Okay,” Mac replied.
We walked on and kept close to the wall as we closed on the first bedroom down the thick carpet in the hallway. My nerves jangled so much I felt sure they sounded like bells ringing from a church tower. Someone tugged on the rope and swung those bells for all they were worth.
I took the flashlight from Mac’s hand. Awkward though it was to hold it with a cast, I managed to keep it steady. My left hand held the gun. I let the gun rest on top of the cast. It wasn’t brilliant, but the light and gun were roughly in the same direction.
I turned to Mac, shining the light in his face. “Sorry,” I whispered. “On ‘two’ reach forward and fling the door open for me, hard. Make it smack the wall behind. Keep to the hinge side of the door.�
�
“Okay,” he replied. On ‘two’ Mac swung the door wide. I stepped through keeping my back to the wall moving around the perimeter of the room scanning up and down and side to side. My heart calmed as it became obvious there was nobody there. I motioned to Mac to enter. Together we checked under the beds, in the closet and behind the curtains.
“Nothing,” Mac said. I guessed his heart was pounding big time. We left the room and shut the door behind us. We moved to the next bedroom.
I passed Mac the flashlight. “Your turn.”
He whispered to himself, “Gun and light, same direction, back to wall.”
“Yup,” I replied as I counted and then flung the door wide open. It smacked against the wall behind it.
Minutes later we were done. Upstairs was secure. We stood at the top of the basement stairs.
“Dad has alarm sensors down there, the beam kind.”
“Uh huh. Guess we’ll find out if the alarm’s on.”
We started down the stairs. I could smell something. My stomach gurgled as I placed the aroma. “Can you smell pizza?”
“Yeah,” Mac replied. His face in the dim light looked worried, and he chewed his lip. We stopped outside the first door we came to.
“Storage room,” he said. I could tell he just wanted to find his parents. Stopping to search rooms slowed the process unbearably.
“Let’s get it over with.”
I half expected the basement alarm to sound any second. Mac secured the room. We both searched the two large closets. All we found were boxes upon boxes of Christmas decorations but no sign of life.
We followed the pizza smell down the hallway. Mac secured the next room we came to. The odor of pizza grew stronger as we neared the workroom. Mac flung the door open. It crashed back into something sending an avalanche of stuff tumbling to the floor.
“Shite!” he exclaimed. “She’ll have a major fit about this.”
The reek of fresh paint inside the room masked the pizza we smelled out in the hallway. Mac shone the flashlight in a sweeping motion around the room. Cans of paint sat open on the workbench. I felt compelled to point them out.
“She’s always leaving stuff lying around, maybe nothing.”
“Where the hell is everyone?” I turned around. Where could they have gone? “Mac, how can three people just vanish?”
“Not easy,” Mac replied, lowering the beam and scanning the floor again. “Jesus!” he hissed, “What the fuck is that?”
The light settled on a flat, square box on the floor past the workbench.
“Pizza box,” I replied without thought.
“Christ!” Mac exclaimed, and opened the box. It contained a half-eaten Hawaiian pizza. Still warm.
“Phone!” I held out my hand and he gave me the phone.
I punched in Caine’s number and waited. The call diverted to his message service.
“Well, that’s odd,” I muttered as the call flicked over to his answer service. I left a short message, “Where the hell are you?” and disconnected the call.
Why would he have his service pick up messages in the middle of this mess?
He had regular update calls flowing in, and he needed to be available. Bad thoughts raged despite my trying to settle them. It didn’t make sense. I handed back the phone and asked, “Where could they be?”
“I dunno,” Mac replied, unable to take his eyes off the pizza box.
The pizza was making me hungry, and I don’t even like Hawaiian pizza. Fruit and meat just shouldn’t be together. I shoved my gun into my waistband.
Mac spoke, “The only place left is the garage.”
“Then let’s go!”
We stopped at the top of the stairs and listened to the house. It gave nothing away. The entire house remained silent. Graveyard still. “Jesus, this is eerie.”
“Yeah,” Mac said, and took my hand.
He helped me negotiate the darkened rooms all the way back to the kitchen and the backdoor. “What if—?” Mac began to say as he turned the handle.
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” I replied. “‘What ifs’ are not helpful.”
He opened the door. We walked along the path. Trees rustled as the cold wind stirred the foliage. Mac turned the flashlight beam at several trees as we passed. Just in case. For a split second, I thought I smelled spicy cologne in the breeze. As we approached the garage, we saw a golden glow emanating from under the side door.
“Hinge side,” I reminded him, tugging my gun free from my jeans.
I took a breath and looked at Mac for a second. I nodded. He swung the door back hard. It slammed into the wall behind. The crash reverberated around the garage, followed by an exclamation from a male voice, “Jesus!”
“Dad?” Mac called back.
I followed the sound of the voice to discover Caine and his parents sitting around the table. They all looked well and unharmed. I saw Mac’s posture change, his concern replaced with anger. I closed the door.
“You’ve been here the whole time?” Mac asked. I heard a slight tremor in his voice as he tried to remain composed.
“We’ve been talking to Mr. Grafton,” Beatrice replied, she sounded perky, almost jovial.
Mac pushed his shoulders back, standing straighter. His hand around mine, he squeezed my fingers at the edge of the cast. He looked at Caine. “We found a pizza box. You didn’t answer your phone,” he informed them with admirable control.
“Would’ve been nice if you’d told me you were leaving the house!” I said.
“Shall we take this party back inside? And once we’re there, I want a good explanation for everything.” Mac reached around and opened the door.
There was no argument. One by one the garage occupants filed past us into the darkness.
“There were no lights on when we left the house,” Mac said, stopping just before the back door. There were no lights on, yet light flooded out onto the path where we stood, emanating from the kitchen window.
“Stay here,” Bob and Caine said in unison. I saw Caine’s lip twitch as he spoke again, “Sweep and secure. On my mark, take left.”
A Rockford Files remake happened before my eyes. Rockford and his sidekick stepped through the kitchen door.
Mac’s Mom talked nonstop about the nice young man who had delivered the pizza, and how kind he was. “How did he know I felt like Hawaiian pizza? He was very thoughtful don’t you think, Mac?”
“Yes, very,” Mac replied.
She barely paused for breath, off again on a new ramble. This time she muttered on about how clever the cats were and how she had seen them turning on lights and opening doors.
Bob reappeared smiling. He honestly looked as though he was enjoying himself with old Rockford. He spoke to us, “Come on, it’s all clear.” We passed Bob in the doorway.
“As long as you’re sure,” I replied. There was no keeping the amusement from my voice.
I heard the door lock behind us. Mac and I headed back to the bedroom and laptops. Bob ushered Beatrice along in another direction.
We waited in silence for Bob to join us. When he did I turned to Caine, who waited in a chair. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“It never rang.”
“I was redirected to your message service.”
“Ellie, it never rang,” he repeated, “What number did you call?”
Mac took the cell phone from his pocket and checked the last number called then read it out to Caine.
“That’s my number.” He checked his phone. “It doesn’t say I missed any calls.” He listened to his messages. Then called his message service. We saw him check his watch and then he said, “I did not forward my calls to the service!” His voice raised a notch. “Don’t ‘but sir’ me. Make sure I get my calls, dammit! Change my authorization code.” He punched a series of numbers into the keypad then did it again. “Thank you,” he snapped and hung up. “How the hell did that happen?”
I became aware of Mac’s eyes o
n me. He was frowning.
“Fuck knows! It could have been him but how would the bastard get my access code?” Caine stood and paced up and down the room. “Six more pizza deliveries.”
“Why were the lights on?” Mac asked.
“Well, we don’t know that either. One of the cats?” Caine replied. “No sign of an intruder and nothing to indicate that anyone had entered the house, bar the kitchen light magically turning on.” He stopped in front of us. “Quite frankly we don’t know shit!”
“Was it him who sent the pizza here?” I had to know.
“No.” We all looked at Bob as he spoke, “I checked our phone log. Beatrice ordered it herself then became confused.”
“Whew.” He hadn’t found us yet. “But that could mean he’s still looking for us.”
“Yep, and those bodies aren’t getting any fresher,” Mac replied.
“Oh, man! No more putrid corpses. Couldn’t he keep them on ice, so they’re nice and fresh when we get them?” I stopped and stared at Mac. “How many bodies are we talking about?”
“Three, now. Two FBI and one chat room patron.”
“That’s a lot of stench to have in a car. Even in the trunk.”
I gave it some consideration. In truth only two of them would be borderline stinky, LostAdam might still be fresh. I turned to Caine. “Hey, Caine.”
Caine looked up. I could tell he too was thinking. “What would you do with three bodies while you searched for the people you wanted to deliver them to?” I asked.
“Ice ‘em,” he replied. “I’m on it.” He sat at the table and tapped on one of the laptops. “Four refrigerated trucks have been stolen in Virginia over the last twenty-four hours. One in Manassas, two in Richmond, one in Fredericksburg.” He picked up his cell again and made a call to the Fairfax police department asking them to keep an eye out for the trucks.
I lay back on Mac. Caine was busy on the phone and computer. There was nothing much we could do except wait. Caine’s phone rang constantly as information on the stolen trucks and surprise pizza deliveries came in.
Bob knelt on the floor in front of the map, marking off pizza deliveries and sightings of the trucks. If half the FBI in Northern Virginia were mobilized to stop the trucks, then sooner or later we’d get a hit. The pizza deliveries were getting closer, so maybe we wouldn’t have so long to wait after all.
