by B R Snow
“No idea,” she said. “And at the moment, I really don’t care. I just want to find my dogs.”
We turned off the highway and bounced our way up the dirt access road until Chef Claire slammed on the brakes and turned the car off. We hopped out and glanced around the dense woods. The wind was starting to pick up, and the temperature was dropping. There was only about a half-hour of daylight left, so I grabbed flashlights and our binoculars from my bag, and we began a slow walk toward the spot Chief Abrams had pointed us to.
“Al! Dente!” Chef Claire called several times.
The only responses she got back were faint echoes. I glanced back at the highway and didn’t see any sign of the black SUV.
“I guess they weren’t following us,” I said, resuming my search as we moved through the brown, withered brush.
Chef Claire continued to call the dogs’ names as we slowly made our way forward. We began walking in a wide circle that became smaller with each pass we made and carefully examined the ground. Ten minutes later, Chef Claire stopped and started crying.
“They’re not here,” she said. “But at least we didn’t find their bodies.”
“Don’t talk like that,” I whispered. “I’m sure they’re okay.”
“But they’re not here,” Chef Claire said, her shoulders shaking as she continued to sob.
“No, but they were,” Josie said, staring down at the ground. “At least Al was.”
“What are you talking about?” Chef Claire said.
“That,” Josie said, pointing.
Sticking out of the large pile were the remnants of a red dog collar and one of the tracking devices. Chef Claire knelt down and used a stick to extract the collar and device from the relatively fresh clue Al had left behind.
“It’s Al’s collar,” Chef Claire said. “Or at least what’s left of it.”
“How the heck did he get it off?” I said.
“I don’t know how he does it,” she said, smiling. “That’s the third one this month he’s managed to destroy.”
“He’s quite the chewer,” I said.
“Yes, and quite prolific in other areas,” Josie said, staring down at the large pile. “Now what?”
“Hunting camp,” I said. “It’s the perfect spot to hide out.”
“Let’s go,” Chef Claire said.
I did my best to keep up with her and Josie, but by the time the outline of the camp was visible through the trees, I was a hundred feet behind and completely winded. Josie and Chef Claire ducked down behind a thicket. Eventually, I caught up with them and dropped to my knees gasping for air.
“What do you think?” Chef Claire said.
“I think I need to get to the gym,” I said, rolling over onto my back.
Josie snorted but kept staring at the hunting camp through her binoculars.
“There’s definitely somebody there. The lights are on, and there’s smoke coming out of the chimney.”
“How do you want to do this?” Chef Claire said. “We can’t just knock on the door.”
“Maybe we should split up and do some reconnaissance before we try to do anything,” I said, pushing myself back up into a kneeling position. “If I remember, there are two doors in the back. Josie and I will check them out while you keep an eye on the front. We don’t have much time before it gets dark, so let’s meet back at this spot in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay,” Chef Claire said. “Do we need some sort of signal?”
“Good idea,” I said, nodding. “How about we whistle? One whistle means to head back to the spot. Two means we’re going inside the camp.”
“Got it,” Chef Claire said.
“Be careful,” I said.
“And try not to kill anybody,” Josie said to Chef Claire.
“I’m not making any promises,” she said.
Josie and I worked our way through the trees until the back of the camp was about fifty feet in front of us. We heard movement and the muffled sound of voices coming from inside.
“Can you make anything out?” Josie whispered.
“No, we’re going to have to get a bit closer.”
“Let’s make our way over to that storage shed,” I said, pointing, then froze in my tracks. “Wait. I see someone.”
“Where?”
“Behind that tree over there on the left,” I whispered.
“Yeah, I see him. It looks like he’s also trying to figure out what’s going on inside,” Josie said. “What the heck is he doing here?”
I thought about it, then a lightbulb went off.
“The black SUV,” I said. “I guess they were following us after all.”
“He’s a big dude. What do you want to do?”
“Well, there are two of us,” I said.
“Yes, but given the size of him,” Josie said. “That would make the odds what, two against four?”
“What do you suggest?”
“I suppose running is out of the question.”
“Let’s call that plan B,” I whispered. “Hang on. I think I have them with me.” I rummaged through my backpack and help up a pair of handcuffs.
“Handcuffs? Is there something about your personal life you’ve been keeping from me, Suzy?”
“Funny. Chief Abrams gave them to me.”
“For what?”
“For times like this,” I whispered. “Grab that piece of firewood over there, and we’ll sneak up behind him. You bop him on the head, and when he goes down, I’ll cuff him.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that,” I said, nodding.
“I think we should go with plan B.”
“We need to find Al and Dente,” I said. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
I was pretty sure she was glaring at me, but I couldn’t be sure in the fading light. She picked up a chunk of wood about the size of a softball bat and followed me as I tiptoed my way toward the large man whose back was to us. As we got closer, he seemed laser-focused on what was going on inside the camp.
When I was five feet behind him, I could hear him breathing.
I took another step closer and felt Josie right behind my left shoulder. I slowly took a step to the right to get out of the way of Josie’s swing and stepped on a twig. All three of us heard it snap and the man flinched, then began to turn around.
“Now!” I shouted and gripped the handcuffs with both hands.
Josie launched into her swing, then recognized the face and tried to pull back. But her momentum carried her forward, and the chunk of firewood bounced off Rooster’s forehead. He dropped to one knee, then stared at us with a dazed look.
“Rooster,” Josie whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“Geez, that hurts,” he said, rubbing the spot. “What the hell is wrong with you two?”
“Actually, there are a lot of theories floating around about that,” I said. “Rooster, I’m sorry. We had no idea that was you.”
The back door of the camp opened, and a man’s head poked through. In the darkness, it was impossible to see his face.
“What is it? Is somebody out there?” a woman called from inside.
“No,” the man said. “It’s probably just that raccoon.”
The door closed, and we refocused on Rooster. He was wiping blood off his forehead and still glaring at Josie.
“What are you doing out here?” I said.
“I’m looking for my idiot brother. What’s your excuse?”
“We’re looking for Chef Claire’s dogs,” Josie said.
“And you think they’re here?” Rooster said.
“It’s a definite possibility,” I said. “I didn’t know your brother was back in town.”
“That makes two of us,” he said.
“What do you think he’s up to?” I said.
“He’s undoubtedly trying to make time with my ex-wife.”
Another lightbulb went off.
“He’s the one who told you and Margaret that the other one was dead
?”
“That’s what she told me at the restaurant,” he said, stuffing the bloody handkerchief into his pocket.
“Quite the surprise reunion, huh?” I said. “Why would your brother do something like that?”
“He always had the hots for her. Now I find out that he’s stayed in touch with her all these years.”
“Have they been, you know, having a relationship?” I said.
“That’s what I’m here to find out,” Rooster said, standing up. “Margaret says no, but I’m not sure if I can believe a word coming out of her mouth.”
“Did you recognize either of those voices?” I said.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well, if Chef Claire’s dogs are in there, they must be working with your brother, right?”
“Yeah, probably,” he said, then glared at Josie. “You could have killed me.”
“I’m sorry, Rooster. I tried to stop my swing, but-”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“After the way you threatened your brother the last time when they stole the dog from the Inn I was sure they’d never do it again,” I said.
“What can I say? My brother and cousin have always been slow learners.”
“Your cousin? Coke Bottle is here?”
Coke Bottle was the nickname we’d given to Rooster’s cousin because of the thick glasses he wore. Without them, he had a hard time seeing past his face.
“Yeah, I heard him earlier,” he said. “I have no idea who the other two are. By the way, where’s Chef Claire?”
“She’s watching the front,” I said. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Well, now that I know the dogs might be in there, we need to be careful. Once we get in there, follow my lead. And if we see any signs of guns, I’d prefer it if you two made yourself scarce. Got it?”
We both nodded in the dark.
“I repeat, got it?”
“Sorry,” I said. “We were nodding.”
“There’s a door on the side that leads into the back bedroom. We’ll slip inside and try to get a handle on things before we do anything else. Once I get the door open, you’ll see a small alcove off to the right. We’ll hide there and just listen for a while.”
“What if the door’s locked?” Josie whispered.
Rooster jangled a set of keys.
“Oops, I forgot,” she said. “Never mind.”
We followed Rooster as he slowly made his way toward the camp.
“What if the door’s locked,” I said, with a whispered laugh.
“Shut up.”
We made our way up the small set of steps and waited as Rooster silently unlocked and opened the door. Moments later, we were huddled inside a dark and cramped alcove.
“Where did you find these two idiots anyway?” the woman said.
“They were recommended by Geno,” the man said.
“Who’s Geno?” Coke Bottle said.
“Geno. The guy we drink with a couple nights a week at The Lay About,” Rooster’s brother said. “You do remember him, right?”
“That’s his name?” Coke Bottle said. “I thought it was Buddy.”
“What?”
“That’s what everybody in the bar calls him. Every time he comes in people always say ‘Hey, buddy.’ ‘How ya doing, buddy?’”
“She’s right. You are an idiot,” Rooster’s brother said.
“Unbelievable,” the woman said. “You’ve outdone yourself this time.”
“Don’t start on me,” the man snapped. “Geno said they were morons, but could handle stealing a couple dogs.”
“Hey, watch it,” Rooster’s brother said. “Be careful about who you’re calling a moron.”
“And we did handle it,” Coke Bottle said. “It was easy.”
“You stole the wrong dogs, moron,” the woman said.
“But they looked just like the dogs in the picture,” Coke Bottle said.
“They’re Golden Retrievers,” the woman said. “They all look like the ones in the picture.”
“Don’t blame us, lady,” Rooster’s brother said. “They were right outside the store, just like he said they would be.”
“Well, obviously it was two different dogs,” the man said. “Didn’t you bother to check?”
“Check what?” Coke Bottle said.
“To see if they’d been fixed,” the woman said.
“Fixed? What was wrong with them?” Coke Bottle said.
“Wow,” Josie whispered. “How did you manage to escape that gene pool, Rooster?”
“It wasn’t easy,” Rooster said.
“Fixed as in spayed or neutered, moron,” the woman said.
“How would I know that?” Coke Bottle said.
“Let me grab a pair of scissors, and I’ll show you,” the woman said.
“Okay, let’s calm down,” the man said. “I guess we’ll just have to figure out a different way to grab the dogs.”
“Not using these two cretins, we won’t,” the woman said. “We’ll do it ourselves.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” the man said. “What if somebody sees us?”
“Let me worry about that,” the woman said. “We need to get out of here.”
“Before you go,” Rooster’s brother said. “There’s still the matter of payment.”
“You stole the wrong dogs,” the woman said. “Are you telling me you still expect to be paid?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you, lady.”
“Yeah, you hired us to steal two dogs, and that’s exactly what we did,” Coke Bottle said.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” the woman said. “You know, if I had a gun, I think I might just shoot you.”
“You mean a gun like this?” Rooster’s brother said.
“Uh-oh,” the man said. “Just put that down. There’s no need for that.”
“Well, would you look at that,” the woman said. “Dumb and Dumber are carrying guns. They really need to do something about the gun laws in this country.”
“That’s enough, Sylvia,” the man said. “Now how much was your fee again?”
“Two grand,” Rooster’s brother said.”
“Yes, of course,” the man said. “We’ll just have to step outside and go to the car to get it.”
“Nice try,” Rooster’s brother said. “Empty your pockets.”
“I will not,” the woman said.
“Lady, you aren’t going to look very good with a hole in your forehead.”
“Okay,” Rooster whispered. “I’ve heard enough. You two stay here until I call you.”
Rooster stepped out of the alcove and headed for the main living area of the camp.
“Uh-oh,” Coke Bottle said.
“Rooster. What are you doing here?” his brother said.
“Drop the guns right now,” Rooster said in a voice that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Then we began a series of events that played out over the next thirty seconds that I would replay in my head at least a hundred times over the next few days.
We heard the clatter of the guns landing on the floor, glanced at each other and nodded, then raced into the room just as the lights went out. I took my first step in the darkness, tripped over what I assumed was a footstool and fell flat on my face.
Then I heard a blood-curdling scream.
The silence returned then I heard the front door opening and the footsteps of two people racing for the door. They ran directly into Chef Claire who was heading inside. All three bodies hit the floor, then two people clamored out the door, and I heard the sound of them running until it faded away.
“Suzy? Josie?” Chef Claire said.
“We’re here,” I said. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s going on?”
“Stay tuned,” I said. “Rooster?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to get my hands on my idiot brot
her.”
“Get out of here!” Coke Bottle screamed.
I heard the sound of someone running down a flight of stairs and the sound of a different door opening.
I climbed to my feet, took a few steps, then tripped over something else and reached out to catch myself. But the only thing I grabbed was air, and I started falling, then tumbling down a long set of stairs. I bounced several times then landed on a concrete floor. Seconds later, somebody else completed their journey down the stairs and landed right on top of me. Whatever air I had left in my lungs disappeared, and I groaned. I tried to extricate myself from the man lying on top of me but he wasn’t moving, and I assumed that he’d been knocked out by the fall.
Something was pressing hard into my chest, and I grabbed the object and jerked it free. I rolled out from underneath the man and realized I was covered in a sticky substance that reminded me of melted chocolate. Still surrounded by total darkness, I climbed to my feet holding the object and stared around through the blackness. Then the lights came on, and I looked down at Rooster’s brother who was staring up at me with a blank stare and a massive wound near his heart. Then I looked down at the large kitchen knife I was holding in my hand.
“Well, I’ll be,” said the person standing at the top of the stairs and staring down at me. “Are you getting all this, Jerry?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I got all of it,” Jerry the Cameraman said.
“Okay, on me,” Jessica Talbot said. “This is Jessica Talbot, and I’m speaking to you from a remote hunting camp near Clay Bay, a place that is destined to become known as The Small Town Murder Capital of the Country.”
“That’s good,” Jerry said without looking up from the camera.
“Of course it’s good,” Jessica said, brushing the hair away from her eyes before continuing. “The person you see holding the bloody knife at the bottom of the stairs, a knife we can only assume is the murder weapon, is Suzy Chandler, a lifelong resident of Clay Bay. Only moments ago, an unidentified man was murdered, and his lifeless body is now sprawled at Ms. Chandler’s feet. It’s just a pity that we weren’t able to get here a few minutes sooner. Now, we’ll never know if we might have been able to save that poor man’s life.”
I stared up at her, then at the red light on the camera that was again focused squarely on me. I looked around the basement and caught a glimpse of my bloody face and clothes in a mirror, then dropped the knife, stunned.
