by E B Corbin
While the salesman went into the stockroom to retrieve her order, she scoped out the cheap flip phones. You could never tell when you might need a burner. It took another thirty minutes to sign up with the service provider, get new numbers assigned and complete the purchase for the iPhones.
The prepaid phones were easy. She plucked two from the shelf to include with her other items. White Cloud stood silent at the end of the aisle while she paid.
As soon as they returned to the cab, she removed her new phone and turned it on. It held a slight charge that she hoped would last long enough for her to call Henry. When she reached him, she told him to change her number in his contacts and disconnected quickly with the excuse that her battery was low.
✽ ✽ ✽
Henry wished he could pace. Sam had not given him time to tell her his latest discovery, not that it amounted to much. But she hadn’t given him a reason for the urgency of switching phones either. He didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce that the men in the black van had found them again. He hated not being part of the action and cursed his sprained ankle once more.
Testing his pain threshold, he put his weight on the injured leg. The pain did not seem as bad—he could live with it. Emergency room doctors always went for the most prudent instructions, probably to avoid a lawsuit if something went wrong. Since he had no intention to sue, he saw no reason to heed their advice. A week of keeping off his foot and using crutches didn’t fly, as far as Henry was concerned.
Perhaps he could give up the crutches if he had a cane. Then he could accompany Sam instead of sitting in the apartment as useless as a camouflaged golf ball. Besides, the sound of hammers and electric drills in the other unit on their floor was driving him crazy.
He tried calling Sam to ask her to pick up a cane somewhere but her phone rang several times before he got the message that her voicemail was not set up. In frustration, he punched the number for White Cloud. The taxi driver’s phone went straight to voicemail and Henry disconnected without leaving a message.
The fact that he could not contact either of them sent his adrenaline into overdrive. He had to do something. And why was there no sign of a buzz in his head? Could he no longer count on his “spiritual guide”?
As a last resort he thought that Julie, in the lobby, might be able to suggest where to find a cane.
On one crutch, he hobbled to the door and took the elevator to the lobby after making certain the deadbolt kicked in before he left the apartment. He felt uneasy not being able to use the chain lock, but he’d only be gone a few minutes.
Julie looked up from the magazine she was flipping through when the elevator doors opened. She rushed around the counter when she saw Henry struggling into the lobby. “Oh, you poor dear. Can I help you?”
Henry shrugged off her assistance but she took his free arm and led him to a chair anyway. He hadn’t been sure, but he was glad the receptionist worked on Saturday. “I need a cane. Do you know where I can get one?”
She looked at him as if he’d asked for a trip to Mars. “A cane? You have crutches, why do you need a cane?”
“I can’t maneuver very well on these things.” He tapped the crutch for emphasis.
“Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“Can’t. Don’t have time to waste. Do you know someone close by that sells canes?”
Julie bit her lower lip. “I can probably find a place. Medical supply houses are probably not open today. How soon do you need it?”
“Yesterday.” He smiled to hide the grimace of pain that shot through his leg. The short trip to the lobby using only one crutch had tired him more than he was willing to accept.
“Did you check on Amazon? They have same-day delivery for some items.”
Much as he hated to admit it, he never thought of ordering a cane online. He could do that easily enough. He thanked Julie for her help and clumped back to the elevator before she could offer to help him.
As the elevator rose to his floor, the elusive buzz began again. It began at a low level but increased as he moved closer to the apartment. For a change, he welcomed the sound.
When he opened the door, he came face to face with a man standing in the living area. A person he’d never seen before.
Chapter Twenty
The intruder stared at Henry with eyes made of granite. A brief flicker of surprise crossed his face then his expression turned to stone as he watched Henry stumble in on crutches. “Who the hell are you?”
“Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Henry cursed himself for leaving his Beretta on the side table next to the sofa.
A quick glance reassured him it was still there. But it might as well have been in Shanghai for all the good it would do with some stranger between it and his hand.
“I’m the foreman for this remodel.”
The man showed no indication that he’d seen the gun tucked in the corner of the room, so Henry crutched past him and sunk into one of the chairs to keep the foreman’s attention away from the Beretta. His ankle throbbed and he could barely speak past the pain. “And I’m the tenant in this unit for the next few days.”
“We were told this whole floor was empty.” The man grabbed a clipboard from the counter and flipped pages. “It’s marked right here. All empty except for unit 812.”
“This is unit 812.”
“Aw, hell. I thought I was in 810. That unit where the old lady was killed. I don’t know why they didn’t put numbers on these doors. How did they expect people to find the right apartment?” He shook his head. “Dumb as a doorknob, the owners of this building.”
Henry waved his crutches. “If you don’t mind, you can find your own way out. It’s the next door to the left.”
“Yeah, yeah. D’ya mind if I look around here first to make sure we have correct specs? Don’t want to waste any more time than we have on this project.”
“I’m afraid I do mind,” Henry said. “We’ll be gone in a few days and you can check it out then.”
“Fine.” The foreman sniffed as he gathered his tape measure and headed to the door. “Sorry to have bothered you.” His sarcastic tone came through loud and clear, and he slammed the door on his way out to emphasize the point.
Henry sighed as he pushed up from the chair. Before he reached the door to engage all the locks, his phone rang. He dropped his crutch to pull the cell from his pocket. White Cloud’s name displayed on the screen. With his thumb, he accepted the call. “White Cloud, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. I saw that you called.”
Henry’s mind blanked for a second. “Uh, yeah. I wondered if you knew where I could get a cane.”
“Why do you need a cane. You have crutches.”
“I don’t need crutches. A cane will work fine.”
“You are sure?”
Henry heard Sam protest in the background. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“We are near a Mrs. Maguire’s house now. I will drop Sam there and get your cane while she speaks to the woman.”
Henry took a second to gauge the sounds in his head. Hearing only a mere hint of a buzz, he assumed there was no imminent danger. “Great. Then swing by here and pick me up.”
“I do not know if that would be wise.” White Cloud paused in order to listen to Sam talking at him. “Your boss has just ordered me to not do that.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t have to listen to her.”
“But you should,” White Cloud said.
Sam pulled the phone from its holder on the dash, pushed a couple buttons to disconnect the Bluetooth and switched to speaker mode. “Henry, what are you doing? The doctor said you need to stay off that foot for a few days.”
“There’s no pain,” Henry lied. “I’m your bodyguard. I need to be with you.”
“I’m sure I can handle a little old lady,” Sam said.
“What about those two goons following you?”
“How did you…” Sam caught herself before giving away her ever-pres
ent fear of the black van. “We lost them a while ago. And since I have a new phone, I don’t think they’ll be able to find me as easily. Besides, they won’t break into Betty Maguire’s home to grab me.”
“You don’t know that for sure.” Henry sighed into the phone. “I’d feel better if I were there.”
“And I’d feel better if you gave your ankle a chance to heal.”
“I’m not going to do anything to injure myself further. If White Cloud gets me a cane, I’ll be able to get around easier.”
“Fine. He can get you a cane. But I don’t want you coming around here for no reason. Norman told me Stacy has a migraine today, so I won’t be seeing her until tomorrow. As soon as I finish with Betty Magruder, I’ll be back.”
Henry saw no point in arguing with her. When White Cloud showed up, he would just hop in the cab and go with him. “Fine, then. Ask White Cloud if he knows where to find a cane today.”
Sam reconnected the Bluetooth. “Ask him yourself.”
White Cloud assured Henry he could get a cane and would drop it for him at the front desk. Henry decided he would give the man fifteen minutes, then wait in the lobby until the taxi driver arrived.
When the conversation ended Sam pointed to a red brick structure set back from the sidewalk with two tall Douglas fir trees lining the walk on both sides. She stood on the sidewalk gazing at Betty Maguire’s home, then leaned into the open taxi door and told White Cloud to get the cane and come back for her.
“I will wait until you are inside,” the taxi driver said.
“White Cloud, I think I can get up the walk and to the door without any problem. Go. Get Henry his damned cane.” She slammed the door to the cab and waved him off.
White Cloud hesitated, then pulled away from the curb slowly as she started up the walk to the front door. She scanned the street from right to left but saw nothing to alarm her. No black van; no hulking man skulking on the sidewalk.
The large house seemed too big for a single woman. The porch ran the length of the place in front and continued around to one side. The third floor windows were only tiny triangles at the end of three dormers, but Sam had the impression that the third floor was huge, just as large as the lower floors.
Helen had told Sam that Betty had no children, so why on earth was a widow living in such a large space? Even when her husband was alive, they must have wandered around like two guppies in a twenty-gallon fish tank. With a shrug, Sam dismissed the thoughts. It was none of her business how people chose to live.
She rang the doorbell and listened to the chimes play. The solid oak door had a stained-glass rectangle on top, which made it difficult to see anything but shadows inside. When she detected no movement after a few moments, she pushed the button again.
✽ ✽ ✽
Anxious to get out of the apartment, Henry locked his laptop in the safe, tucked the Beretta into its holster at his waist and slipped on his leather jacket. He wished he could somehow secure the unit other than the coded deadbolt and decided to talk to Sam about moving to a more secure place sooner rather than later.
By the time he reached the lobby, White Cloud stood in front of Julie’s chest-high counter. He held a carved cane up while Julie ran her hands over the handle and down the sides, admiring the craftsmanship.
The cane was a work of art, the polished wood etched to look like a grapevine grew from the floor to the faux-ivory handle. At least Henry hoped it only appeared to be ivory. He didn’t need to be walking around on an irreplaceable prop. Even so, it was much nicer than the aluminum stick with a rubber tip that Henry had envisioned.
When he reached the desk, he handed off his annoying crutch to Julie, asking if she could get rid of it for him, then grabbed the cane and took a few practice steps. Deciding it would do fine, Henry jerked his head toward the exit and signaled for White Cloud to follow.
The taxi driver hesitated. “I will pick up Sam and bring her back.”
“I’m going with you.”
“I do not think…”
The expression on Henry’s face stopped any further comment. White Cloud waved goodbye to Julie and followed Henry to the taxi.
Henry brushed off White Cloud’s attempt to help as he slid into the passenger seat. “Let’s get going. I have a bad feeling.”
White Cloud said nothing until they were stopped at a red light on the corner. “Your spirit guide has told you something?”
“I don’t know about my spirit guide, but my gut is telling me I need to get to Sam.”
“We shall be there in fifteen minutes. Ten, if you sense an immediate need.”
Since they were already weaving in and out of traffic, moving a good deal faster than the other vehicles on the road, Henry did not want to encourage more frantic driving. “Fifteen is fine.”
White Cloud turned his head to look at Henry. “You still do not accept your spirit guide. You need to acknowledge your gift and learn how to keep calm.”
Henry drew in a deep breath and left it out with a snort. He wished the Indian would concentrate on driving, even though, despite all the lane changes and speeding through yellow lights, they never came close to disaster. “I don’t know why you think I have some kind of special, uh, thing. I’m sorry, but I don’t believe in your so-called, ‘spirit guides.’ I believe in myself, period. And I’m telling me that Sam is in some kind of trouble.”
The taxi driver was not deterred. “Why will you not admit to yourself that you have a special gift?”
“Because I don’t. The damn buzzing in my head is probably caused by some rare medical condition.”
The Indian’s lips curved up into a half-smile. “Would it not bring you more peace to believe in your spirit guide than to believe you have a brain tumor?”
“Possibly . . . probably. But then I’d live in fear that I was crazy.”
White Cloud slammed on the brakes as the car in front of them slowed to make a right turn without signaling. He laid on his horn in annoyance. “You say your spirit guide manifests by a buzzing inside your head. You believe that means danger is ahead, and you try to act accordingly but you won’t admit it.”
Henry grew tired of White Cloud’s conjecture, true as it was. “Can we talk about something else?”
“As you wish.”
Silence filled the cab for the next few blocks until Henry felt obligated to break it. “I don’t hear voices, you know. It’s just a buzzing sound.”
White Cloud remained silent.
“And I didn’t have it all my life. When I was a kid, I was just your normal, everyday troublemaker. There was no sign, something was wrong with me until I was in the Seals and we were going on our first mission.” Henry took a deep breath before he continued. “It was supposed to be a simple recovery of three people—missionaries stuck in a village by a landslide. No problem, our commander assured us.
“My team consisted of six members, three veterans and three newbies. I was one of the newbies. When a guy from my graduating class started complaining about the lack of action and how the mission was beneath our skill level, my head started to buzz. The sound kept up all night and into the next morning. Every time that guy came near me, the buzzing grew louder, more frantic.
“I took a couple of Advil, but it didn’t do any good. As we were loading into the Black Hawk, I thought my head would explode. When we reached this mountain village, we rappelled into the center of town, expecting to find our missionaries waiting for us. Instead we found ourselves surrounded by men with guns, all pointing in our direction.
“The guy who thought we were overqualified for the mission started firing. The villagers returned fire and he was the first man down. By the time things quieted, we had one dead, two injured and a bunch of angry villagers watching us with wary eyes.
“By my standards, the mission was a disaster. But since we eventually got the missionaries out in one piece, the Navy declared it a success.” Henry shrugged as they stopped at a red light. “Probably more than you needed
to know.”
“Your friend—the one who started the buzzing—he was the one who died?”
“He wasn’t my friend. Just some guy who happened to be in my class. But yeah, he was the one who died.” Henry ran his hand over his face. “Christ! I don’t know why I told you all that.”
“You have nothing to fear from me. Often our spirit guides work in mysterious ways. It is a good thing to talk it out.” White Cloud slowed the taxi as they entered a residential neighborhood. “We are not far now.”
Henry grunted. He had no idea why he had felt compelled to tell the taxi driver about the sounds in his head. If it had been anyone else besides a Native American with spiritual leanings, the person would think he was off his rocker. He vowed to never mention it to anyone again.
When they turned the corner to Betty Maguire’s street, White Cloud eased off the gas. Two police cars with lights flashing sat in front of the house. The back doors to a van marked “Coroner” hung open in the driveway. A Crown Vic that screamed unmarked police car sat at the curb, the driver’s door ajar.
As White Cloud nosed the cab closer, a uniformed officer stepped in front of them, his hand outstretched, palm up, he signaled for them to go around with his other arm. The Indian braked to a stop and Henry jumped out, forgetting his booted foot. Pain shot through him, causing him to grab the top of the door to keep from collapsing.
The officer approached the taxi. “Sir, please get back in the vehicle. Nothing to see here.”
“What’s going on?” Henry gritted through his teeth as he waited for the pain to subside. “What happened?”
“Nothing to concern you. Please move along.”
“It does concern me!” Henry groped for the cane. “My boss is in there. I need to see her.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” The man in blue stepped closer, blocking Henry’s attempt to move around him.
“I need to know what’s happening.”
The officer took his elbow and tried to guide him back to the front seat of the taxi. “Please, sir. There’s nothing you can do.”
Henry broke the policeman’s grip with ease and stared at the man. “Did you not understand what I said? I need to know if Sam is all right.”
