by Cat Connor
More falling, sliding, tripping, and then gunfire.
I ducked behind one of the cars.
Shadows flickered by the windows.
I fired. Someone squealed.
Another shadow. I fired again. This time no squeal but a sickening thud. That was a win. Lee called out again reminding the remaining people to exit via the front door.
A hand flapped something white out the trashed door.
“Come on out,” I said, staying behind the car. A foot, then leg, then half a body appeared. The white cloth vanished. I fired as a hand holding a black object came into view. A scream filled the air. Blood spurted across the porch. The black object hit the ground. A pistol. Nice.
“Bitch!” the owner of the stump squawked, clutching what was left of his hand to his chest. He staggered out the door.
“You might wanna keep that elevated and use your belt as a tourniquet,” I offered helpfully.
From behind him, I heard a familiar noise. A red mist sprayed across the ground in front of me as the stumpy guy fell, face first into the dirt. Killed by one of his own kind.
Twenty-five minutes after it began it was over.
We had two men in custody and six bodies, including the two in the woods. Turned out there were four people in each car.
I sat on the hood of one of the cars and watched the two men we had cuffed on the ground. We found female clothing in the cabin, a lot of it. That suggested there were women somewhere. My money was on the dumpster.
“How many bodies are in the dumpster?” I asked.
They smiled.
“You may as well tell me, it’s not going to make a difference now. You can only be given one death sentence. The state can’t kill you twice.”
Neither responded.
Lee stepped in. “She’s right. Death is a onetime event. Staying alive however, that requires you to talk.”
And us not to shoot.
The smaller of the two men growled like a rabid dog then said, “What makes you think there are bodies in there?”
“The clothing we found in the cabin … unless you all come out here and dress up like women?”
The smaller man smiled. “What if we do, it’s not against the law to wear a dress.”
He was really starting to piss me off.
“So which one of you liked to wear the pale pink dress with rosebuds on it?”
He tipped his head to the older man. “Rosebud there.”
The other older man glared at his buddy.
“You lying sack of shit.”
“Sorry, did you have something of value to add?” I asked the older man. “Like who you are, how many bodies make up the human soup in the dumpster, and a list of names?”
He shook his head. “I have nothing to say.”
I shrugged.
“Don’t you just hate when you can’t find the right handbag to match your shoes?”
He glared at me.
“Really? Nothing to say?” I said.
He shook his head. The smaller man smirked.
Lee stepped closer to me, partially blocking their view so we could speak.
“We’re not going to get anywhere. Back up is another hour away at least. It’ll be dark in half an hour. What do you want to do?”
“Leave them out here. We’ll go inside.”
“The doors and windows are smashed, the place is splattered with blood and fresh meat. It’s bear country. We’re better off in one of the cars.”
“Good thinking.”
The car we were sitting on was unlocked.
The older man watched us.
“You can’t leave us out here,” he said.
“Ah, wrong,” I replied. “It’ll be dark soon and it’s getting cold. We’re going to wait for our back up in this car.”
Lee took the driver’s seat. I slid into the front passenger seat.
“The keys are here,” Lee said.
“Good.”
We watched the men. They weren’t happy.
As darkness fell, I looked at Lee.
“Let’s get some light on the subject.”
He turned the key in the ignition and flicked the lights on just as an enormous black bear ambled out of the woods beside the cabin.
“Time we left,” Lee replied as the bear homed in on the two men who were struggling against their cuffs and yelling.
The end.
5. Rolling in the Deep
Everyone needs a vacation, everyone, even SSA Ellie Conway. If the universe could just accept that life would be so much easier.
”Fourteen days of Saturday?” I asked leaning on the car door. No phone. No internet. No badge. No gun. Fourteen days of Saturday. And unreachable by normal means. It appealed.
His voice was clear over the cell phone I held to my ear, “Something like that. You up for it?”
“I’ve got four weeks off, so yeah, I’m up for it.”
Four weeks off sounded better than being stood down for four weeks. On the plus side I still got to keep my badge and I was being paid. I’d skated a thin line and survived with nothing more than some enforced vacation time and a slap on the wrist from the Director.
“When do you want to leave?”
“Tonight,” I replied. “I want to leave tonight.”
“Just you?”
He sounded hopeful? Maybe he thought I’d bring Delta. Nope. We’re not joined at the hip despite what it looks like.
“Yes just me.”
“Want me to go ahead and book the tickets?”
“Yep, I’ll meet you at your place later this afternoon.”
“We running today?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then I’ll come to you.”
“Okay.”
“See you soon.”
I hung up and pocketed my phone. Kurt walked toward me carrying two coffees in take-out cups. The winter sun bounced off the edge of his sunglasses. I lifted mine from the top of my head and pushed them on.
“All good?” Kurt asked handing me a cup of coffee.
“Yep,” I replied, taking the lid off the cup. Steam rushed out, fogging my glasses. It took a moment for the steam to clear. “Who’s driving?”
“Me,” Kurt said. “Scoot.”
I walked around the car and slid into the passenger seat.
“We’re done, yeah?”
“Yes,” Kurt said checking the mirrors. “We’re done. How long are you off for?”
“A month.”
He glanced at me. “Going away?”
I smiled. “Yeah, I am.”
“You going to make this hard?” he asked pulling out into the traffic.
I sighed. “I’m lucky I still have a job…” I wasn’t feeling chatty.
“We all are,” he replied. “We pushed Assistant Director Owen to the very edge.” Kurt glanced at me. “And my question stands, are you going to make this hard?”
“I’m going to a place by the sea with a friend.”
Not a lie. It is by the sea, just not a sea in this hemisphere. I smiled thinking about how far we were going. It was the sea at the end of the world.
I caught his interested glance and ignored it.
“Virginia Beach, Norfolk, Chesapeake Bay?”
“No, it’s in the south.”
It doesn’t get much more southern and yet still remain warm enough for me to enjoy it. I’m not a penguin. I felt the smile on my lips. Not a penguin but sometimes Mitch referred to me as Penguin and I liked it. I couldn’t remember a time in my life where anyone had given me a nickname. New. Nice.
“Gulf of Mexico?”
“More southern than that,” I said and drained my coffee.
“Cotopaxi is not by the beach,” Kurt mumbled.
“I never said Ecuador,” I replied. “And how did you hear about Cotopaxi?”
“Iain Campbell mentioned you, him, and Mike Davenport were talking about climbing Cotopaxi in January.”
Snowdrifts were piled by the roadside, m
elting in the winter sun. It was definitely January. I wasn’t in a mountain climbing mood.
“They’re going without me,” I said. I felt like walking on a beach not struggling for oxygen at the top of a cold mountain, as much fun as that would be, it’s not what I wanted or who I wanted to be with. “I’m going away, Kurt. I’m out of cell range and will have no internet for two weeks. Then I’ll be back and I’ll tell you all about it.” Maybe.
He pulled up my driveway. The gates opened and then closed before the car got to the house.
“Be safe Conway,” Kurt said as I opened the car door. “Hope the mystery man is worthy.”
“He is,” I replied. “See you in a couple of weeks. Keep Delta ticking?”
“We’ll be waiting.”
I shut the door.
Kurt waited for me to go inside before he drove off.
I walked into the empty house. It felt cold, I knew it wasn’t cold, the heating was always on, but empty houses feel cold. They lack life. At the living room door I spoke. “Computer, listen. Bon Jovi.”
Seconds later the opening bars of the first track on the latest Bon Jovi album filled the emptiness. The cat jumped off a chair by the window and stretched. He ambled over and purred around my legs.
“Come on, I’ll feed you, then you’re off to Aidan’s for two weeks.” Shrek was used to being bundled off to Aidan’s. It happened so often I wondered why I bothered bringing him back home again. Pretty sure the cat liked Aidan better than he liked me.
By the time I’d fed the cat and packed. Mitch had arrived.
He looked good and I was feeling playful. I steadied the smile on my face, then swallowed it and replaced it with disappointment and took a breath.
“Bad news…”
“What?”
He leaned his hip against the kitchen counter.
“Work, I’ve got to go away,” I said with the steadiest voice I could muster.
“You serious?”
“Yeah.”
“But we…”
“I know, it sucks,” I replied. “Sometimes shit happens. I don’t like it much either.”
Mitch sighed. I smiled.
“For how long?” he asked, a hint of resignation in his voice. I knew it wouldn’t last long.
He bounced back faster and harder than anyone I’d ever met.
I was pretty sure that was a large part of his charm.
He was naturally upbeat and optimistic. Solution orientated. Totally infectious.
“Dunno. A few days, a week, longer maybe…”
“Who am I going to run with if you’re gone a week or longer?”
Already I heard his smile returning. I looked up and saw the sparkle in his eyes.
“You’re good,” he said with a grin. “And evil.”
“I thought I was good. Occasionally a little evil.”
He leaned over the counter and kissed my cheek.
Sweet. Affectionate.
He was driving me crazy and judging by the twinkle in his eyes, he knew it.
“Fire… you’re playing with it,” I cautioned.
His smiled widened. “Buddy, pal, best friend…”
All words I’d heard before.
“Having fun?”
The smile on his face said it all. Fun, he was having it in spades.
“Take it slow…,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah. Pretty sure we both agreed…”
“Friends remember?”
“And again…”
I wanted to reach across, wrap my hands around his lapels, pull him over the counter and have my evil way with him, right there on the kitchen floor.
“El, you’re hopeless.”
“Me?”
“If you drag me over the counter there’s no going back.”
“Yeah, well.” I stopped. Confused. “How’d you know?”
“The look in your eye and the way you bit your lip.”
Deflect.
“Time for a run?”
“Good idea.”
I leaned over the counter and looked at what Mitch was wearing. Jeans. Really? Sliding back I straightened up before temptation got the best of me. Or Mitch did.
“You got your gear?”
“Yep,” he replied bending and lifting up a bag from the floor.
“Let’s get changed then.” Not quite trusting myself to walk past him without touching I added, “Go on. Guest bedroom okay with you?”
Mitch looked over his shoulder and smiled. “That’ll do me.”
“Top of the stairs on the right,” I said and followed Mitch down the hallway and up the stairs.
He pointed to an open door on the right. “Here?”
“Yes,” I said and waited until he entered the room before I hurried to my room. I changed into academy sweats and running shoes. My gun and holster sat on the dresser next to my badge and phone. Tempting. I left them where they were. Running not working. At the door I changed my mind and went back. I scooped everything into my gym bag with my water bottle and towel. I wasn’t on vacation yet.
Mitch waited at the bottom of the stairs. Water bottle and car keys in his hand.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Always.”
I didn’t doubt that for a second. As he opened the front door his car keys jangled.
I dropped my bag on the floor in the back of his car and climbed into the front passenger seat.
My door closed.
Mitch smiled through the window as he walked around the hood and opened his door.
We ran at Rock Creek Cemetery. Running every path that wound through the undulating cemetery and avoiding the creepy circle of crypts.
Two hours later we were back at my place.
“Airport by six,” Mitch said. “I’ve got everything with me. Mind if I use your shower?”
I froze. Mind if I join you was sitting there on the tip of my tongue. I nodded. Not safe to speak.
He laughed at me. He wasn’t laughing with me.
My phone buzzed like a bumble bee trapped in a paper bag. I freed it from my gym bag. The image on the screen caused an eye brow to rise.
Mike Davenport, the famous actor brother of Delta’s Lee Davenport.
I read his text. ‘Morning wifey, how are you?’
Funny man.
I replied: ‘Great. How are you? Still enjoying being the tragic widower?’
‘Beating them off with a stick. Smiley face.’
As I knew he would.
‘And you wanted?’
‘Come away with me.’
Vacation invitations in all directions. I’d never been so popular.
‘Thanks for the offer but I have plans.’
‘You don’t know when I’m going.’
‘It’s January. Ecuador.’
‘Smiley face. Be more fun with you.’
‘Rules. Remember? We can’t be seen together.’
He replied with a sad face. ‘Take care Ellie.’
When I looked up Mitch was standing at the top of the stairs.
“All right?”
“Yeah.” I waved my phone in the air. “Lee’s brother trying to get me to climb Cotopaxi with him.”
“Do you want to?” He walked down the stairs and stopped two above me.
“No, I want to go to New Zealand with you.”
“As long as you’re sure.” A smile filled his voice. It was infectious like him.
Seventeen hours of flight time was followed by another twenty minutes in a Cessna and an hour and change in a rental car. Mitch was surprisingly comfortable driving on the wrong side of the road. Me, not so much. The trip was fun. My cell went several times before reception dropped off. I smiled as I turned it off for the first time in my memory.
Goodbye world. I’m out.
The winding road afforded glimpses of the sea through the bush at irregular intervals. Promise of relaxation drifted on the tide.
“We’re here,” Mitch said turning down a steep driveway and parking in f
ront of a garage.
“Nice,” I replied, opening my door. Escaping the confines of the car felt good. I stretched. Standing on solid ground felt a little weird. Everything felt like it was still moving. Jetlag.
“You okay?” Mitch looked at me over the roof of the car.
I smiled. “Yep.” I stretched again, easing the knots out of my muscles. I wasn’t designed to keep still for extended periods of time. “Where exactly is here?” I followed Mitch to the right of the garage to a staircase. At the bottom of the stairs I saw a house.
“This is where I come to fish.”
“It’s a long way to come for a few fish,” I muttered.
He ran down the stairs, then another smaller set of stairs and unlocked the door. Mitch opened the door wide and said, “Welcome to paradise.” He ushered me into a foyer. Stairs rose in front of me, another staircase descended to the right. The ascending stairs led to a mezzanine floor. French doors were visible from where I stood. I guessed there was a balcony up there.
I followed Mitch down the stairs; he opened a door at the bottom that led to the vast living area.
The house was a far cry from a fishing cabin. I wandered to the left and stood in front of large windows. The driveway came down the left of the garage and the house, curved around the front and then carried on down to the sea.
Noises behind me caught my attention. Mitch in the kitchen, making coffee. I walked across the room, through the dining area and to the kitchen.
“Fishing?”
Mitch smiled. “Yes.”
“You come all the way out here to this house and go fishing?” Incredulousness crept into my voice. I watched him as he moved about in the kitchen. “So who lives here when you’re not around?”
“What makes you think someone lives here?”
“There’s no dust.” I walked around the kitchen table and opened the fridge. “The fridge is full.” I picked up a bottle of milk and checked the date. “The food is fresh.”
He laughed.
“The couple who live next door take care of this place.”
“Uh huh. And?”
“No and, they take care of the house when I’m not here.”
“Mind if I have a look around?”
“Go for it, I’ll yell when the coffee is ready and bring our bags down.”
“Want a hand?”
“No, you go explore.”
