The Laundry Hag's New Year's Clean-Up

by Jennifer L. Hart

  I froze. The strands of crystal and lights didn’t provide much more cover than dangling from the staircase. If he heard a noise, looked my way, I’d be caught.

  “But we don’t got everything,” the heavyset man who’d proceeded him up the stairs first bitched.

  “We got enough.” L.I. guy’s tone was definite. “We just need to grab the boss and go.”

  The boss? Did he mean Amber? No, Amber was under cover.

  “Where is he?” unsub two asked.

  “Last I saw, in the pool house.”

  Fear constricted my lungs.

  “He just texted.” George joined the two of them on the stairs. “Guess some crazy broad climbed out a window. She took a golf cart and was headed toward the back gate.”

  Here I’d been dicking around playing commando and my wife had walked right into the line of fire. I shifted one foot, then the other, inching my way across the flared head of the penis. I needed to get down that second set of stairs now.

  “Why didn’t he stop her?” Unsub number three asked.

  “He said she was armed with one of our rifles.”

  Any hope that he wasn’t talking about my wife vanished with that comment.

  “Was that who knocked you out, George? Some dumb chick?” L.I. guy laughed at the thought.

  “No, I told you it was a guy.” Eager to keep his man card, George protested.

  Lucky for me and Maggie, neither of the other two seemed inclined to believe him.

  “Sure, it was.” Unsub three laid on the sarcasm.

  George cleared his throat. “Figured we could pick her up on our way out as a real hostage.”

  “Neil?” Another voice hissed from the opposite staircase, pulling my attention from their conversation.

  I looked over, and blinked as the light from the penis exposed a bedazzled mask peeking over the railing. Leo.

  I made a sharp slicing gesture with my hand and then pointed for him to get down.

  He nodded and then ducked low. I moved as quickly as I could, circumnavigating the phallus without making too much noise. I needed to grab Leo and get to Maggie before the unsub in charge caught up with her.

  If he hadn’t already.

  Chapter Eight

  Forty-three minutes ‘til midnight

  Maggie

  I had the assault rifle up and pointed at the snowmobile, my hands shaking at the thought of using it.

  And at the thought of what might happen if I didn’t use it.

  Lily would grow up without her mom. Josh and Kenny would be devastated.

  And Neil—

  “Don’t think like that.” I spoke aloud, gripping the rifle tighter. “You do what you have to do.”

  The brilliant light from the snowmobile came closer, the rider a malformed black shape against the blue-black sky. The snowmobile circled me once, twice and a third time before it pulled up alongside my golf cart.

  “Derek?” I asked when I caught sight of the snowmobile’s rider. “Jeez, that’s the second time I almost shot you. What are you doing here? I thought I told you to lay low.”

  He was dressed much more appropriately for the cold weather than I’d been, wearing a ski jacket and thick gloves. I was a tad resentful he hadn’t offered either to me earlier.

  He lifted his goggles—goggles for the love of grief—and answered my question with one of his own. “Did you call the police, yet?”

  I pointed the barrel of the rifle down toward the ground. “No, I haven’t even found the gate yet. I can’t believe you came after me.”

  “Was worried about you, owl lady.” He held out a hand to help me from my defunct ride. “Hop on.”

  I studied his ride. The golf cart was much quieter than the snowmobile but also much more treacherous in the current conditions. “How far is it to the gate?”

  “Dunno,” he shrugged. Maybe it was my imagination, but he seemed pretty tense for someone who’d been doing bong hits all day.

  “Maybe you can help push me out of this rut.” It seemed wasteful to just abandon the golf cart after I’d gone to all the trouble of stealing it.

  “You’ll just get stuck again.”

  He was probably right.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the snowmobile?” I asked.

  A shrug. “Forgot.”

  Probably smoked away his last braincell. I looked up, trying to decide if it would be better to insist he help me free the golf cart or to join him for the faster, albeit chancier ride. Snowflakes drifted down, as if a sign from on high.

  “Okay, I’ll come with you.” I adjusted the strap of the rifle until the barrel hung over my shoulder, facing the ground and then slid out of the golf cart. “Try to stick to the tree line,” I instructed while gingerly climbed onto the snowmobile behind him.

  He didn’t answer, just shot the snowmobile forward the second my arm went around him. The vehicle shot forward so quickly, it took my stomach a minute to catch up. Derek turned in a half circle around the abandoned golf cart. Instead of heading for the safety of the tree line though, he was making a b-line back to the main house. I could see the bright lights spilling through the high windows.

  “Hey, slow down,” My cry was ripped away by the wind battering against my flushed face. “Derek, that’s the wrong way. You’re supposed to head away from the house, not back towards it.”

  He didn’t respond, just crouched low behind the windshield, gunning for the main house at full speed.

  My heart was thundering in my chest, adrenaline racing through my system. “Derek, how do you know Grant Swenson?”

  “From school.”

  Wrong answer, mostly because Mrs. Swenson’s son’s name was Graham. Which any friend of his would know.

  “Who the hell are you?” I shouted over the wind.

  He smirked back at me, all traces of the drug addled teenager gone. “My name’s not important.”

  “Let me go,” I pleaded.

  “Can’t do that. I need a real hostage, just in case my getaway plan goes sideways.”

  Hostage. I couldn’t be a hostage. I had a baby who needed to be picked up in the morning. My sock and duct tape hands were still wrapped around him. No way to reach the rifle, never mind operate it. “My family doesn’t have any money. I’d be a terrible hostage.”

  “Only people with sizeable portfolios attend the Swenson’s New Year’s party.”

  “We were crashing. Please. I have an infant. Two boys and zero stock options.”

  He didn’t answer. We were coming up on the steep slope that separated the pool house from the main house. The crest of the hill was clear but trees were scattered down the hillside, providing the cover I’d need to get away from him.

  If he was chasing after me, he couldn’t hurt Neil, Leo or anyone else at the party.

  Without giving myself any more time to think about it, I released my hold on him and threw myself off the side of the snowmobile. The ground rushed up at me, knocking the wind from my lungs. I had no chance to catch it as the momentum and gravity sent me tumbling end over end down the incline. I tucked and rolled but it was far from a controlled decent. Luck was on my side though. The only trees in my pathway were small, flexible saplings. They slapped me in the face but bent under the assault. I did hit a few rocks, but the snow and my clothing took the brunt of the impact.

  After what felt like an eternity I slowed and then halted. Took a minute to assess my new scrapes and bruises. Another to listen. I couldn’t hear the roar of the snowmobile. Derek was probably looking for an easier way to come down the hill.

  I didn’t have much time until he found one.

  The pressure bandage on my battered knee was still in place, though walking hurt. Really hurt. Like sixth circle of hell type pain. I limped and staggered into the denser tree cover, hiding in the shadows, trying to pull myself together.

  There was a sound and something pinged over my head, striking the trunk of the sycamore. Another pop, even closer. I hit the ground hard, ag
ain expelling my breath in a forceful burst. My vision wavered slightly and for a moment I was afraid I would faint.

  If I lost consciousness, he’d find me. I’d believed Derek would take the time to come after me, either on foot or via snowmobile. I’d been horribly wrong.

  Derek had an assault rifle of his own. Of course he did. He was one of them. And he was using me for target practice.

  My own rifle pressed into my spine with bruising force. If this had been a kick ass movie, I could have spun it around and fired back, wounding the dastardly villain without killing him, all while my hair was lifted off my face by an artful breeze. But this wasn’t an action flick and I feared firing back would just allow Derek to hone in on my exact location.

  I belly-crawled deeper into the trees, seeking cover. Rocks and sticks poked through my clothing. My heart pounded so hard it was all I could hear. The only good news that I could see in this particular situation was that I hadn’t been shot yet. Either his aim was as terrible as my own or he wasn’t actually trying to hit me. From the distance I couldn’t see him in the dark so chances were the reverse was true.

  I slithered behind a leafless oak, the enormous trunk shielding me from the hilltop. The shots had stopped. I panted, my breaths coming out in puffs of erratic carbon dioxide. Wetness seeped through the seat of my pilfered sweats, but that was currently the least of my problems. Five. There were at least five people in on the siege.

  Derek had been in the pool house. There had been several instances when my back had been turned or I set down the rifle when he could have turned the tables. Disarmed and killed me. For that matter, he could have just shot me when he drove up on the snowmobile. Instead he’d revealed his face and convinced me to come with him.

  All this led me to believe that he didn’t want to kill me. Didn’t mean I was going to turn myself over to him to test the hypothesis.

  The gunshots had stopped. I strained my ears and listened for the sound of approaching footsteps. There weren’t any. A moment later, I heard the distinctive rev of a snowmobile engine. It grew fainter and fainter. I exhaled a breath, trying to make sense of it all.

  Neil’s ex-wife had been at the party, apparently engaged to a doctor friend of the Swenson’s. Though she’d done time, she wasn’t a murderer. Maybe none of them were.

  If they didn’t want to kill anyone, why strike when the house was full of people? Leo had known the Swenson’s were heading out of town the next day. Amber must have as well. Why stage an armed assault in front of so many witnesses? And not just any random witnesses either. Many of the Swenson’s circles could buy a third world country without batting an eye. They had connections, resources and were capable of launching a worldwide manhunt. Why would Amber and Derek and their posse risk that sort of blowback?

  The more I thought about it, the less sense it made.

  An image flashed in my mind of the couple I’d walked in on when I’d been looking for Neil. A man and a woman. I’d seen them armed. That was before the vanload of goons arrived. Now that I thought about it, the man had looked a lot like Derek. The stoner act had lulled me into complacency. But the woman hadn’t been Amber. She’d been downstairs flashing her ring at the time.

  So, another woman had been involved. Who was she and more importantly where was she? She hadn’t been with Derek at the pool house. Did she have another part to play in the whole scheme? Maybe she was at the gate, waiting to hop a lift when the vanload of thugs departed.

  One thing was icy clear though. I couldn’t stay in the woods, literally freezing my ass off while Amber, Derek and the rest executed their plan. No way would my knee make it overland to the gate.

  Slowly, I turned in place to peek past the oak. In the distance, the Swenson’s home blazed like a beacon, calling to me.

  Neil was in there. And he didn’t know about Derek or the mystery woman. I’d promised him I’d stay safe.

  Slowly, I got to my feet. Then unslung the rifle from my shoulder.

  Some promises were made to be broken.

  Neil

  LEO REACHED A HAND out and I grasped it, letting him pull me from my perch in the crystal phallus and over the opposite railing onto the staircase where he’d been hiding. We landed in a heap, him on his back, me on my side, my bad shoulder taking the brunt of the impact against the unyielding step. My vision dimmed and for a dangerous moment I was sure I would vomit.

  “Are you all right?” Leo hissed.

  I held up my index finger, silently requesting a minute of peace. “Will be. You?”

  He gulped and nodded. “I was looking for the two of you when they showed up. I managed to sneak up the stairs.” His eyes were red-rimmed behind his sparkly mask.

  “Smart,” I told him. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Where’s Maggie?” His voice was filled with fear.

  “I got her out.” It was the one and only thing that had gone to plan tonight. I didn’t mention what I’d overheard the men discussing about the guy Derek in the pool house. I couldn’t worry about Maggie yet. I had to trust that she could handle herself.

  Leo actually sagged at the news. “I was so scared. I guilted her into this and I was afraid—”

  “Leo,” I hissed, interrupting him. “We don’t have the luxury of falling apart right now.” The speech was a timely reminder for me as well as for Leo.

  Focus on the next step. “We need to get to a working phone.”

  “There’s a landline in the library.” Leo chucked his thumb up the stairs. “I was in there earlier. It’s one of those old timey ones with the cradle receiver. Mr. Swenson likes the old-world feel. I should have thought to call the cops but I was so focused on finding you guys....”

  “We’ll do it now. Stay low.” Setting an example, I crawled up the stairs on hands and knees. After a moment, Leo followed me.

  Mr. Swenson’s study was directly below the bedroom where Maggie had exited the building. I paused at the landing, listening for any sign of the three unsubs. But this end of the hall was clear.

  I duck walked to the door Leo indicated, and turned the knob. It swung open smoothly. Once inside, I rose to my full height and gestured for Leo to follow. He crawled on hands and knees, maybe because his balance was affected by the alcohol he consumed earlier. Once he was in, I closed the door silently behind us.

  “Phone?” I asked as I helped him to his feet.

  “Over there.” He pointed to a whiskey service on a side table. Sure enough, there was a vintage style rotary phone, the kind where the base unit had the part you speak into and the receiver was just for hearing.

  I picked it up, heard nothing. “There’s no dial tone.” Crouching down I saw with dismay that the base unit wasn’t connected to anything. The phone was nothing more than a paperweight.

  “Now what?” Leo removed his ridiculous mask and stuffed it in his pocket.

  I shook my head, unsure what our next move should be. My shoulder throbbed unmercifully. I could handle a handgun with my left hand but an assault rifle demanded both. Even if I could wrestle a weapon away from one of the other unsubs, there was no guarantee I could use the thing. And unlike Maggie, Leo had zero experience with firearms. Plus, he’d been drinking.

  I needed to stash him somewhere, keep him out of the line of fire. The orange grove above the gallery maybe. Unlike my wife, I knew Leo would stay put. Then with him safely hidden, I could focus on taking out the unsubs one at a time.

  Turning to him I was about to explain our new plan when the office door opened.

  I lunged forward, but hesitated as I saw the person on the other side of the door was wearing an evening gown.

  It was a stupid, sexist maneuver. Women could be just as deadly as men. I knew better. Maggie would kick my ass for the thought alone. If Mrs. Swenson didn’t shoot me first.

  Because my pause allowed her enough time to swing her handgun up to the level of my chest.

  “You two,” she said with a confident tone. “Weren’t on the gu
est list.”

  Chapter Nine

  Half an hour ‘til midnight

  Maggie

  The trek back to the house was twice as grueling. Fear for myself and the desire to get help for Neil had fueled me earlier. The worry that I’d be too late, that Neil would slip up, turn his back on the wrong person and get himself shot kept me moving forward. Ignoring the tree branches that scratched my face, the icy wind that penetrated my wet clothing and the little voice that was telling me I was a freaking idiot to be staging a one-woman assault on the bad guys—I plodded on as fast as my battered body would take me.

  I spotted the snowmobile first. It was left off to the side of the front door, several yards from where the van was being loaded. Creeping up to it, I ducked down behind it to get a view inside.

  Three masked forms moved through the room. All the other people were still lying on the limestone floor. No sign of Derek. One of the assailants moved through the room, bending down to collect wallets, watches and jewelry from the partygoers.

  The van blocked the staircase from the main room. The people on the floor could see what was going on in the foyer and vice versa. My knee protested being bent at an angle and I couldn’t do anyone any good from behind the snowmobile.

  Taking a deep breath, I limped over to the rear of the van. I frowned at the things already inside the vehicle. Photographs, vases, rugs and lamps, a stack of antique books. Bags of other goods I couldn’t see. Those weren’t easy things to sell on an open market. Electronics were top of the list because they were hard to track, easy to carry out and sell. Cars could be broken down for parts. From my vantage point, I could see out through the glass panes beside the front door. The Swenson’s garage and all the vehicles lined up in the drive were untouched.

  Why would they take the time to roll up a Persian rug but ignore the tablet lying on the hall table?

  I inched forward and saw Derek charging up the front steps. Quick as I could I fell to my belly and slithered under the van. As if he’d done it a million times, Derek bounded up the stairs, just as three sets of feet appeared on the second-floor landing. One pair of killer heels and two sets of male dress shoes. The descending feet stopped. I was too far away to hear anything and decided to creep closer.