Along Comes a Wolfe

by Angie Counios

  “No, I mean it. The sooner we face what the killer does, who he is, the sooner we quit fooling ourselves and stop him from doing it to someone else.”

  I stare at him in dismay. Of all the things I think he’ll surprise me with, sincerity is the last I expected.

  chapter 67

  We pull up in front of the mall and, of course, it’s surrounded by police cars and news vans.

  “Here we go again,” I say. I don’t mean to be flippant; it just comes out.

  Charlie knows what I mean, though. “Yup,” he says, assessing the scene.

  “So I just walk in there, and…?” It’s like I’m mentally stunned; I can’t keep up with Charlie’s thought process.

  “Yup.”

  I wait for more. I really think he’s going to answer my question because I’m not sure what to do, yet the silence drags on a little longer than I’d like.

  “And…?” I repeat, still staring at all the vehicles and officials and officers that stand in our way.

  “Drive,” he instructs.

  I put the car into drive and pull away from the mall. “Where am I going?”

  Charlie makes a “just go” gesture without saying a word.

  I drive forward slowly. He points to a small street nearby and I turn.

  “Park.”

  I pull over to the curb and park the car. The action is now all behind us. I glance in the rearview mirror. No one is racing around in a panic, but there’s consistent movement of uniformed and plainclothes police between the store and the cruisers.

  I don’t feel as calm as they all look.

  “When a burglar is about to break into your house, you know what he does?” Charlie finally speaks.

  I look at him. “I’ve got no idea, Charlie.”

  “He finds a place he likes. One that looks nice. Curb appeal. Something worth entering. Then he parks a block or two away.

  “Yeah?” I’m wondering what his point is but he always seems to have one, so I give him time.

  “Then he walks right up to the front door and rings the bell. Just like that. He’s all full of balls and rings the bell. And if someone comes to the door, he just makes something up like he’s lost or looking for so-and-so, or selling something. Pretty good, huh?”

  I glance up at the rearview mirror again.

  “We can’t ring the doorbell at this place. They’ll know we’re not selling cookies,” I add.

  Charlie’s not fazed in the least. “If no one answers, then he goes around back and tries the back door, or the window or the garage. They don’t care about alarms. Neighbours ignore those. Cops don’t get there in enough time.”

  I look at him, hoping I’ll be less confused in a moment or two.

  “Ever locked yourself out of the house?”

  I nod.

  “Well, how many ways can you think of to get in without a key?”

  He waits and I realize he actually expects me to come up with an answer, so I go through the options I’ve considered every time I’ve lost my key.

  He asks again, “How many?”

  “Three.”

  “Times three.”

  “Pardon?”

  “If you know three ways to get into your house without using your key, then a burglar knows nine. Into your own house!”

  He sounds impressed, but I don’t want to know how he knows this information. I really hope it’s from the internet.

  “They walk in and do a sweep in around eight minutes. They get what they need and walk out calmly through the front door to their car. It’s pretty seamless.”

  “Thank you, Charlie Wolfe, for that mini lesson on b&e’s. What’s your point?”

  Charlie smiles. “You’re in and out in eight minutes.”

  I cock my head trying to understand what he’s just said. “Sorry. I’m what?”

  “You’re going into the mall, through the back door, getting what we need, and getting out.”

  My eyes widen and I realize what Charlie is telling me to do. He sees my expression. My brain flashes an uncontrollable fast-forward to a night in jail with some mentally ill druggie or one of Charlie’s “ole” buddies with a shiv, then leaps to my parents paying bail. None are good outcomes.

  “Don’t panic. You’ve done this before.”

  I give him a look. Riiiiight.

  “My school, remember? You’re practically a pro. And you’re better at it than you think, Uptown Boy.” He pats me on the back. It’s both patronizing and reassuring.

  “Remember, there’s more than one way into every single place.”

  Charlie unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car. I shut the car off and follow. We walk a little farther down a side street, out of view of the scene at the mall.

  “Doesn’t look like the entire strip mall is shut down. I think they’ll have police caution tape to keep people away unless they find something solid.”

  Charlie walks beside me. We turn a corner and head back toward the mall, but from this street I see we’re coming up along the back where deliveries are made.

  “We’ll just hang out here for a bit. Something will come to us.”

  Charlie is so certain. I admire that about him. I don’t know his life or what it looks like, but he puts such an optimistic spin on everything, even this—even jail. He thinks an opportunity will present itself. How does he know? Practice or is it simply patience? I’m not sure he’d be able to tell me even if I pressed him for an answer.

  “When the time is right, go inside. Go in like you’re supposed to be there. Like you work there or you own the place. Go to the bathroom, not the one near the food court but the one away from the main square, down the hall by the music store. Walk straight in.”

  I listen and then it dawns on me. “Wait—you want me to go into the women’s bathroom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Charlie, I’m not sure if you noticed, I’m a six-foot-tall dude.”

  Charlie lifts his sunglasses over his head to hold back his hair and looks me up and down. “Oh, I noticed.” He puckers a kiss and smiles.

  “Man, how can you be joking right now?”

  “Look, if you act like you’re supposed to be there, nobody actually pays attention. If you act nervous and out of place, and—well, like you—people see that kind of energy.”

  “What if someone catches me?”

  Charlie tilts his head. I can feel his annoyance. “Wow, man, do we have work to do.”

  I know he’s thinking that I’ll never be part of his world, that he and I are in completely different time zones.

  “If someone walks in on you, apologize and act embarrassed. Swear, act stupid—that’ll be easy—and ask where the right washroom is, then leave. People make mistakes all the time.”

  It makes sense, but my brain panics, worrying about police asking me what I’m doing.

  “Stop thinking. Go in and get out. Once you have what you need, you can stop by the deli and get me an Italian classic.”

  I look at him. “What?”

  “Gives you an excuse. You’re there buying a sandwich.”

  I give him a second look.

  “Oh, and no sauce.”

  I shake my head. Besides wanting to figure out what happened to Sheri, no sauce might be the only other thing we have in common.

  “You’re something else, Charlie Wolfe.”

  I run through the scenario in my head, visualizing it like Coach gets us to do with plays, while we hang out, waiting. Sure enough, a back utility door swings open moments later.

  I tap Charlie’s shoulder. “There.”

  Charlie looks at the door.

  “Should I go?”

  “Wait.”

  A woman exits with a cart full of garbage. She props the door open so that it doesn’t slam shut behind
her.

  “Nice. Business as usual. Some things keep going no matter what.” He looks over at me. “When you think it’s right, get up and walk in.”

  That’s all he says. Nothing specific. It’s all up to me now.

  I feel my heartbeat speed up as I watch the woman pushing the cart over to the large bin. I get up and cross directly to the door.

  She’s almost done and I’m thinking I won’t make it when I hear a phone ring. My breath catches for a second until I realize it’s her phone. As she turns away to answer, I speed up and walk right behind her, through the back door into the mall.

  chapter 68

  The hallway stinks of the piled-up garbage that hasn’t made it to the bin. I hold my breath and move swiftly to the end of the hall before gaining entry to the mall courtyard.

  The police are all on the one side. The Citrus Shack has barriers around it, with an officer to keep people moving along. I risk a brief glimpse to see if Gekas is around, but I don’t see her. I keep moving, putting space between me and the law. In the centre of the retail area, I slip behind a lottery kiosk to obscure my presence.

  Charlie was right; the other stores are open. There are a few customers and I do my best to become one. I walk, trying to window shop, but it feels awkward and forced. I think about what I would normally do when I come to the mall and my mind goes blank. I decide that if I wanted something, I would go directly to it, so I make for the music store.

  Inside, two employees are busy stacking shelves. I walk casually over to a bin of two-for-one movies and flip through them.

  “Can I help you?”

  Shit! One of the workers is looking at me. My head spins, trying to remember what I would normally say.

  “Uh, nope. Good.” I’m happy I almost got a complete sentence out.

  “Well, let me know if you need anything.”

  I nod and force a smile and move around the bin so my back is to them. I work the next step through in my head, trying to imagine myself getting into the women’s bathroom. Coach would be so proud that I’m using his visualization exercises.

  Now I’m out of the music store, going around the corner to the short hallway that holds the mall’s second set of washrooms, the ones away from the food court. I can no longer feel my head pounding—my heart is outdrumming it.

  There’s no one down here. The men’s washroom is on the right; the women’s on the left. It hasn’t been taped off yet. Charlie is one step ahead of the cops. Again.

  I walk up to the door on the left.

  This is a really bad idea—no, dammit, this is a good idea—for Sheri. I listen for a split second. Nothing. Good.

  I go inside.

  chapter 69

  There are eight stalls in a row and a very long counter with four sinks. Two hand dryers hang on the wall beside me. I’m frozen in place and have to force myself to move.

  I kneel down under the first sink and look. Nothing.

  The twists and turns of plumbing and the dark underbelly of the countertop offer plenty of places to hide the camera. I realize I’ll have to check every sink.

  Why didn’t I ask Charlie where it would be?

  I move over and look under the next sink. Nothing.

  I hear a shuffle of feet behind me and my muscles lock up again. There’s a pair of black-heeled feet at the end of the row of stalls. Dammit! What do I do if she comes out and finds me here? Now I’m shaking, but I breathe through it; I’ve got until she’s done.

  The motivational voice inside my head is on repeat, and I propel myself to finish what I came in here to do. I squat at the third sink, groping under the counter, then move to the last one.

  There!

  A piece of duct tape hangs down and I pull on it, but there’s no camera. My heart speeds up even more. This is worse than the final minutes of a tied game.

  I put my head under to take a better look. Nothing.

  The toilet flushes behind me—shit!—and I’m moving. The stall door clicks open as I push open the washroom door and stride down the hall to blend in with the handful of shoppers.

  chapter 70

  The whole thing is a bust. Some cleaner or maintenance worker must have found the camera and yanked it out. Hell, they probably have a security camera of their own, waiting to find the sicko who taped it there. With everything going on around here, they’ll see me going in and think I’m the perv. Or, worse, they’ll make connections and think I’m the one who killed Bonnie McCallum.

  I’m pissed off at Charlie for getting me into this mess. This was a bad idea from the beginning. These past few days it was so nice to get back to normal life—how quickly Charlie has turned it upside down all over again.

  As I’m thinking this, I’m toying with the piece of duct tape in my pocket and suddenly feel something stuck in it. It’s hard and thin, like a small MP3 player. I peel back the adhesive to find a small SD memory card embedded in it.

  I let out a long breath and it feels like the first one I’ve taken since I walked into the mall.

  Then my mind starts to race. Somebody left it for us.

  No, the killer did.

  My heart skips a beat—he knows about us. But also—Charlie found him.

  No matter what I think of Charlie, no matter what sort of stuff he gets me into, he did it. He found the killer.

  I yank the duct tape off the memory card and slip it into my jeans. I scope out the passersby—no one’s really paying attention to me and my heartbeat falls back into something like a normal rhythm.

  At the grocery store, I find the deli and order the Italian classic because today my man Charlie deserves a sub, no sauce.

  The guy behind the counter assembles it as the radio behind him plays “The Kid’s Aren’t Alright.”

  I smile.

  “Anything else you want today?”

  “You have no idea, mister.”

  chapter 71

  I’ve got the sub, a sports drink, and a couple of bananas when I leave the mall, aiming for the back alley, away from Detective Gekas and her buddies. I’ve actually stopped worrying about how I’m acting; I’m moving with my natural, easy swing. I still feel the rush of discovery, but the remnants of adrenaline that had me shaking have burned off the last of my hangover. I’m not sure if it was nearly getting caught or finding the SD drive—either way, I’m feeling something very new.

  I walk around back. Charlie’s nowhere in sight.

  Where the hell is he? I feel a little kick in the gut.

  I go to the edge of the parking lot and scan the entire area. Can’t see him. What am I supposed to do now? What do I do with the memory card? I sigh and walk back to the car.

  Traffic now fills the Saturday morning streets. The buzz I was rolling with is gone and my headache starts to seep back across my brain. It’s clear to me that a few hours with Charlie equals one bad night of drinking.

  He’s sitting on the curb by the car.

  “Hey,” he says, all casual.

  “Hey,” I say. After all this, I’m not in the mood for any crap.

  “What took you so long?”

  I throw the bag with the sandwich at him as hard as I can.

  He catches it. “Easy, man.”

  “Why’d you leave?”

  “There was just too much action. It was better over here and I knew you’d find me.”

  His answer doesn’t make me less angry, but we can’t stay.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  Charlie unrolls the paper from around his sandwich. “No sauce, right?”

  I glare at him over the vehicle.

  “Okay, okay. Gee whiz, dude.” He takes a big bite and nods approvingly.

  “You get the camera?”

  “Sort of. It wasn’t there.”

  “What?”

  “The o
nly thing was this.” I hold up the memory card.

  “Where was that?”

  “Stuck to the tape under the sink.”

  Charlie gets that distant look on his face and a smile crosses it. “Looks like someone wants us to come out and play.”

  And I can’t help but grin because for the first time since I’ve met him, we’re on exactly the same page.

  chapter 72

  Charlie digs into his backpack, pulls out a card reader and plugs it into his smartphone. I wonder what other sorts of spy toys he’s got hidden in there. I also wonder how much of it he actually paid for.

  The card loads and thumbnails pop up. They’re small and hard to see.

  “Once it transfers over, we can view them either as stills or time-lapse video.”

  I realize what I’m about to see and the idea of watching something horrible happen to this girl is too much for me. The excitement of catching this guy melts away.

  “Wait. If he knew about the camera, how do we know we’ll see who he is?”

  Charlie watches each image appear. “Yeah, he’s probably onto us. And I’m sure if he was daring enough to leave these images for us, he was careful enough not to leave fingerprints. Still, I’m hoping he’s screwed up and left something we can follow.”

  Our lead is slipping. Charlie’s phone signals that loading is complete and he scrolls to the start and pushes play.

  A view of the bathroom pops up, the top eighth of the screen cut off by the underside of the sink cabinet. At the bottom is a date-and-time stamp that begins on Tuesday evening after Charlie left me at the stadium. Nothing happens on the screen for a while. Legs zip back and forth across the bottom of the screen and the lights wink on and off, yet even in the dark, the stall and floors are illuminated.

  “See that? Night vision. That feature costs extra.”

  “What store’d you buy it at?

  “Pffft. Stuff like this begs to be liberated.”

  My suspicion is confirmed, but I have a feeling he might’ve said it just to mess with me.