Chapter 29: Later

I waited in the darkness, my window down for air, listening to the stillness. Though there were three homes and plenty of acreage in between me and my target, my eyes were affixed, adjusted to the night’s shadows.

Finally, there was movement. Three figures walked out of the house and into the Mercedes. As they drove by, I scrunched in my seat, hoping they didn’t somehow recognize my car. Nobody stopped. As they passed, I let out a sigh of relief.

I debated. The cops were (hopefully) on their way. What if they got there after Carl? I couldn’t bring myself to think about what he meant by “took care of” on the answering machine. The interior lights once on at the home, were now dark. I debated. Was Laura in there? Was she all right? Did I wait for the police? Did I take a chance Carl would be late? 10:46.

The first acknowledgement I was mindful of my actions was when I made the conscious decision to stay in the shadows. Until then, I wasn’t truly aware I had left the security of my car. I walked quickly in the dark, the moon my only source of light. I kept to the right side of the street—across from the house and Laura’s truck. The smell citrus and irrigated earth filled my senses.

At the end of the block, I crossed and darted to Laura’s truck. I noticed a surprising comfort as I stood between it and the home’s exterior wall. I didn’t hear sirens. Peeking around the home’s side to the front, I looked down the street towards where my car sat. No police cars had shown up either. Damn.

From the protection of the Chevy, I peeked to the back yard. Another rarity for Phoenix—no back fence. Instead, trees, most likely orange, stood as sentinels, daring me to trespass. I dared.

Tiptoeing towards the back yard, I stopped every few feet, listening for police sirens or for noises from the home. Neither came. I crouched under a window, pretending I was invisible. My heart was beating so loudly that I half-expected a random neighbor to investigate the noise. Hopefully they were heavy sleepers.

I moved with at and exaggerated cadence, caused by tip-toeing while bending over to stay out of sight of the windows. Several more feet and I reached the screened back porch. Opening it carefully, I cringed as the door’s hinges creaked. I stopped mid-step, waiting for what might come. I was aware of every shadow. Every sound.

Standing on the patio, I looked through the glass sliding doors, letting my eyes adjust. As I tugged at the door, it slid open with ease. Stepping in, I was still, listening. I had no idea where Laura would be.

This house was a single level. From what I could tell, I was in probably a den. The room smelled like a musty mixture of stale cigarettes, dust and beer. The clock on the DVD player gave enough of an eerie glow for me to make out the large television and couch to my right. There was some sort of bookshelf and wet bar on the left. The clock read 10:52.

I moved across the room, through archway connecting the den to the kitchen. I felt along the cabinets, gripping the countertops. I was no longer listening for people. I had fleeting thoughts of accidentally stepping on a sleeping pit bull. I was afraid to turn on lights, just in case anyone walked through the front door. Right now, I had the advantage. If someone showed up, I could run back out through the den.

I worked my way into the living room. Now in the front of the house. Feeling vulnerable, I moved quickly into the hall. Carefully, I opened the first door I came to. A closet. Bending down in the darkness, I felt around the bottom of the closet. Nothing Laura shaped.

Back in the hall, I passed a bathroom. Sticking my head in, I whispered, “Laura?” No sound.

I was at a crossroads. To my right were two doorways. To my left one. Presumably bedrooms. I went to the left.

It was the master bedroom. I crept around towards the bathroom, wondering if Julie had been wrong. Now, more comfortable with my surroundings and aware of my time constraint, I turned on the light. Blinking until my eyes were in focus, I let out a discouraged sigh. There was nothing to see.

The bathroom light still on, I walked across the room to the closet. One pace away from the door, the noise I heard made my bones jump out of my skin. Frozen in mid-step, I waited, afraid to put my foot down, for fear it would vibrate off the carpet. The noise came again. Snoring. Loud snoring.

Someone was in the house! I glanced at the bed. Empty. The sleeper was across the hall. I breathed a sigh or relief.

Opening the master closet, I heard a muffled squeak. Fumbling for the light switch, I was unprepared for what I saw. Laura, bound and bruised. I worked fast to untie her legs and hands. Before I even had her legs free, she ripped off the duct tape, not even wincing.

“Can you walk?” I whispered.

She nodded.

“There is someone sleeping in the other room.”

Taking her hand, we tiptoed past the occupied bedroom, moving quickly through the dark. By the time we were in the kitchen, I was relieved to see the DVD clock, a beacon guiding us to the safety of the outdoors.

Now through the archway into the den, we quickened our pace. I felt a surge of relief. We were a few feet away from safety. “Almost out.” I said.

As soon as the words passed my lips, the overhead light came on. “Going somewhere Princess?”

I whirled around. Roy, seriously pissed off, stood with a gun pointed at us. “Put your hands where I can see them ladies and get up against the wall,” he said, motioning us towards the bare space beyond the bookshelf and maybe five feet from the outside.

Laura let out a strangled noise.

“Let us go.” I said, realizing how stupid I sounded.

Roy laughed. “Not a chance.” He walked towards us, his pistol in hand. “Carl wants Red there and I’ve got special plans for you.”

He came closer. His gun pointed at us. I saw the red in his bloodshot eyes. I smelled his sweat.

I took a step closer to the bookshelf, partially out of Roy’s sight. “Stop moving,” he growled.

Roy was still talking, but I stopped listening. I calculated. Patience, I thought. I had one chance to make this happen. Now just a few feet away, Roy lunged at me. In an instant, I slid my hand behind the bookshelf. My back braced against the wall and with strength unknown, I pushed it forward. The contents and the shelf itself tumbled on to Roy with a thunderous crash.

Laura and I gazed down, afraid to move. “Holy shit,” she muttered.

The shelf’s items were now scattered at our feet. A shard of broken glass landed on top of my foot. I lifted my leg, shaking off the debris. Roy’s leg was sticking out, toward us. His jeans torn, blood oozing from a gash. A moan came from under the bookshelf.

We stood watching. I was still shaking from the adrenaline.

The bookshelf shifted. “You stupid bitch.” Roy growled. In an instant, Laura dropped to her knees, snatched a bowling trophy, one of the objects once residing on the shelf, and whacked Roy in the knee cap.

He gave off a series of curses, moving again to free himself. As the bookshelf heaved up, I instinctively jumped on it landing where I hoped Roy’s head lie. There was a crunching sound. Roy emitted an “umph” and then a split second later, silence.

“We better go.” I said, climbing off the shelf.

“Just a sec,” Laura whispered, her hand under the rubble. I looked down at her just as a shot rang out above my head.

I hit the floor.

“Get up,” a voice hissed.

Legs shaking, I stood to see Carl in front of me, pointing his gun my direction. “You too, Ms. Jamison.”

“I can’t,” Laura practically whispered. “The bookshelf is on my arm.” I cast another downward glance. Laura didn’t meet my gaze.

Carl glared at her, “I will deal with you in a minute.” Walking towards me he said, “Ms. Cavanaugh, move away towards the wall.”

I was frozen, afraid to leave Laura’s side. As I looked down at her again, her arm under the bookshelf, another shot rang out. At the same second, I felt something brush past my hair. The smell of gunpowder mingled with the musty odors of the room. I emitted a squeal.

“I suggest you move now.” He said, motioning with his gun for me to back against the wall. “I won’t miss next time.”

I took two steps backwards, feeling for the wall behind me. The gun was pointed at my eyes. Carl glaring at Laura.

“Ms. Jamison, I believe you have something that belongs to me. I suggest now would be a good time to tell me where it is.”

“No.”

I gasped. Glaring at her, I screeched, “What? Tell him Laura!”

Laura was staring at Carl. Her jaw set. Fire in her eyes.

“Mr. Jamison, this is your last chance.”

Laura shook her head.

Carl’s shifted from her to me. His eyes met mine. I stopped breathing, unable to plead to with Laura to save my life.

 “Such a shame to kill you, Ms. Cavan—”

Instantly, a third shot rang out. Carl never finished his sentence, instead crumpling over, next to the bookcase. A bullet hole through his face, blood spilling out through the back of his head.

I looked down. Laura was holding Roy’s gun, her hand now free.

Her eyes met mine. “Carl is such a prick.”