He leaned back, feeling like he’d opened the door to the oven with his head too close.
‘What about me? Can I sit on it?’
‘When you’ve done the washing up. One other thing, Mitch might pop in to pick up some stuff.’
‘You’re joking—’
‘There was nothing I could do about it. I can’t stop him coming to his own house.’
‘You could’ve changed your plans.’
She was already halfway down the path.
‘You’re going to have to make up with him one day.’
‘Did you tell him I’m here?’
He didn’t get an answer, just a quick wave and then she was gone.
Back inside, he found a beer in the fridge and got settled in front of the TV, Kyle on one side of him on the couch, Max curled up on the other. He couldn’t relax, worried Mitch might walk in any minute. He was never going to have a peaceful evening, but he didn’t need the added aggravation of an argument with Mitch. It wouldn’t be good for Kyle to see his father and uncle come to blows in front of the TV.
Kyle wouldn’t settle either.
‘Why can’t we go for a drive in your car?’ he said for the third time in under five minutes.
‘Who’ll look after your sister?’
‘She’s upstairs, she won’t know.’
‘How about we take her with us?’
Kyle looked at him like he’d suggested they put Max in a pie and have him for supper.
‘Can’t we just sit in it?’
‘Go on then.’
‘You come too. The garage is creepy.’
Evan got up and Kyle dragged him through the kitchen into the garage, where the Corvette’s paintwork gleamed in the light spilling out of the kitchen. Kyle opened the driver’s door and got in. Evan got in the passenger side.
‘Can we start it?’
‘It’ll fill the garage with exhaust fumes.’
‘Open the door.’
The kid had an answer for everything. He got it from his mother. Evan got out and unlocked the side door, pushed it wide open, then got back in and fired up the engine. The big V8 burst into life and Kyle slid down in the seat and stomped the gas, yelling with delight. Evan let him rev it a while longer, the whole garage shaking, rapidly filling with fumes.
Outside the driver’s window Max jumped up, barking excitedly. Evan felt like joining in, shouting and screaming with the rest of them, it couldn’t make any more noise.
‘Okay, that’s enough now. You don’t want to gas Max, do you?’
Kyle’s face dropped. He turned the key reluctantly and got out. Evan swung the side door back and forth to clear some of the fumes, then closed it. He didn’t bother locking it. He’d give it ten minutes maximum before Kyle had worn him down again. He just hoped Mitch didn’t come home in the middle of it.
They all settled back on the couch again, Max in the middle this time, his muzzle in Evan’s lap. Kyle lasted under five minutes.
‘Can I get a soda?’
Evan nodded and Kyle wandered out into the kitchen. Evan lowered the volume on the TV remote and strained his ears, pretty sure he heard the door to the garage open. Seemed it wasn’t so creepy after all, when it was full of ‘60s muscle car. He sniffed. The faint odor of exhaust fumes confirmed it. The key was safely in his pocket so he didn’t have to worry about Kyle accidentally putting it into gear and ramming the doors. Then he heard the solid clunk of a heavy car door being carefully closed.
He smiled to himself. At least he’d get a few minutes peace and quiet. He rubbed Max’s ears and took a swallow of his now-warm beer. It had been the only one in the fridge too, there was no point going hunting for another one.
He was suddenly aware of the smell of fumes, much stronger now. There was a distinct chill around his lower legs as if he was sitting in a draft. It was coming from the kitchen. Max raised his head from Evan’s lap, his ears pricked forward, alert now. Evan felt his body tense, a low growl in his throat. He killed the sound on the TV and listened. All he heard was the dog’s growl.
He got up from the couch, pointed at Max, whispered stay.
‘You find that soda, Kyle?’
He went into the kitchen. Kyle wasn’t there. The smell of exhaust fumes and the feel of colder air was more pronounced in the kitchen. The door to the garage was open, the garage beyond in darkness. Through the door he could make out the Corvette, see the driver’s window. He couldn’t see Kyle in the car, the light from the kitchen was reflecting off the glass. He might have slid down in the seat pumping the gas pedal like before.
He stood in the open doorway, let his eyes adjust to the darkness. The side door was open again, that’s where the draft was coming from. Maybe Kyle went outside, left it open like kids do.
He took a step into the garage and froze at the low guttural sound of a dog’s growl. It was coming from in front of him, from a patch of deeper darkness beyond the car’s hood, off to the side of the door.
Then, one word, a low whisper, barely audible to the human ear.
Go
In the space of one vengeful second, there was an explosion of movement, a blur of black and brown, flying across the Corvette’s hood, lips curled back, teeth bared, the low growl intensifying. Then another blur of movement, black and white this time as Max launched himself at the bigger dog, colliding mid-air, his jaws clamping around the other dog’s lower jaw. Both dogs landed on the floor at Evan’s feet, a maelstrom of legs and teeth and bloody saliva, thrashing and whirling on the ground in a mass of such utter confusion Evan couldn’t get a kick in for fear of hitting Max.
The bigger dog threw its head from side to side like a terrier worrying a giant rat. Max’s lighter body jerked through the air, losing his grip on the other dog’s jaw, flying through the air, slamming into the wall.
With the dogs apart Evan kicked wildly at the Doberman—he saw what it was now—missed it and slipped. He went down hard, the shock knocking the wind out of him, as the Doberman leapt at his throat. He rolled onto his front, tucking in his head as if it was a bear attack. The dog’s front paws hit him on the shoulder, its jaws snapping at his head.
Marlene.
A single word hissed from the other side of the garage, a man dressed all in black, silhouetted in the open doorway, moving fast. The dog froze momentarily, then bounded up and away, leapt clear over the Corvette’s hood and disappeared through the door, into the night after its owner.
Evan rolled onto his back, heaved in huge gulps of air. Max’s face appeared above him, looking down at him, strings of bloody drool dripping onto his face, running into his hair. The lights suddenly went on, the fluorescent strips blinding him.
‘Uncle Evan, what are you doing down there?’ Kyle said from the kitchen doorway. ‘You want a soda?’
Chapter 21
‘WHAT THE F—’
‘Don’t swear Dad,’ Kyle sang out, trying hard to mimic the tone of voice his mom used when she caught Mitch swearing.
Evan opened his eyes, saw Mitch standing in the side doorway, hands bunched into fists on his hips.
‘Upstairs, Kyle.’
‘But, Dad—’
‘Upstairs. Now!’
Mitch waited for him to get out of earshot. Evan took the opportunity to stand up, dusted himself down.
‘You want to tell me what the hell’s going on, Evan. I come home and see a guy run out of my garage with a hellhound chasing after him and then find you on the floor, looking like ...’
He shook his head, words failing him.
‘Shit?’ Evan suggested.
‘Shit, yeah.’
Max trotted around to Mitch, seemingly no worse off for the dog fight. Mitch bent and ruffled his ears, stroked his muzzle, came away with a hand covered in blood. He stared at it like he didn’t know what it was.
Evan wiped at his face, his hand coming away the same.
‘That’s what I’ve got on my face.’
Mitch wasn’t the least bit inter
ested in Evan’s face. He hunkered down, lifted Max’s muzzle and inspected his mouth.
‘Good boy.’
He stood up again, satisfied the dog wasn’t badly hurt. He stared at the Corvette.
‘And what the hell is this?’
Stupid question, Evan thought, but not the time to point it out. It was going to take a lot of careful attention to what was said if they wanted to avoid things escalating.
‘Charlotte’s storing it for me.’
‘Move in, why don’t you.’ He sniffed. ‘Why’ve you been running it in here with the doors shut?’
‘Kyle wanted to sit in it.’
A lightning fast smile crossed Mitch’s face before he suppressed it. He seemed satisfied with that explanation at least, knew how persistent his son was.
‘You still haven’t told me what’s going on.’
He came around the car and headed towards the kitchen. Evan was directly in line with it. Mitch stopped short. It was as if he suddenly remembered what was really going on here, the reason there was an empty space in the garage in the first place. His face hardened.
‘Couple of months ago, I’d have punched your head through that wall.’
Evan should have bitten his tongue, kept his mouth shut. Let the guy think he was the big man in his own house.
‘You’d have tried.’
They stared at each other, two big men, breathing heavily, hearts thumping, neither man wanting to do this, both prepared to. Mitch flicked his eyes downwards. Evan nearly laughed.
Okay, I’ll look down too, so you can throw a punch at my head.
Mitch threw the punch anyway, a wild, adrenalin-loaded haymaker, months of pent-up frustration seeking release. Evan stepped outside it, Mitch’s flank exposed as he followed through.
Evan poked him in the kidney with his finger.
‘Could’ve had you pissing blood for a week.’
Cocky, far too cocky.
Mitch was faster than Evan gave him credit for. He whipped his elbow backwards. Evan got his arm up in time, blocked it. It still hurt like hell. He yelped in surprise. Max bounded across the garage, barking excitedly. A new game, more fun than chasing a soggy tennis ball. He jumped up, snapping at Evan’s hand as he grabbed hold of Mitch’s elbow with both hands and spun him around again, threw him across the hood of the Corvette. It sounded like a bag of cement just landed on it. Evan groaned as he heard the scrape of belt buckle on shiny paintwork.
Max jumped away from Evan, over to Mitch, claws scrabbling on Evan’s paintwork as he tried to get to Mitch’s face to lick him.
Mitch lay across the hood breathing heavily. He was big and strong, a year or two younger than Evan, but he was out of shape. Evan reckoned he was realizing it, considering his mortality. He pushed himself up and turned towards Evan. Max was on his back legs, his front paws on Mitch’s stomach now, waiting for the next move.
‘I don’t blame you for trying,’ Evan said. ‘Lucky for me you’re in such bad shape.’
Mitch shook his head, ran his hand through his hair, leaving a smear of Max’s blood across his forehead. He looked down at his dog’s excited face, saw wisdom somewhere behind the bright eyes that had been eluding him.
‘Charlotte should never have put you in that position.’
Evan shrugged. Water under the bridge now.
‘Come on,’ Mitch said, ‘let’s have a beer.’
‘Good luck with that.’
Mitch’s face readjusted itself several times.
‘You drank all my beer too?’
Things were suddenly looking serious again. Getting the better of a guy in his own garage, okay, they could move past that, but drinking all his beer ...
‘There was only one can. There’s still half of it left, if you want it. I was saving it for you, Charlotte said you were coming.’
‘Where is she, anyway?’
‘Out with Louise.’
He nodded like that explained everything.
‘So what happened here?’
Evan shrugged.
‘An intruder, I don’t know.’
He explained about the exhaust fumes coming into the house, the draft from the open door, the attack and Max coming to his rescue.
‘Lucky you were here, I suppose,’ Mitch said grudgingly.
‘Yeah, I suppose it was.’
He felt slimy, but what was he supposed to say?
It only happened because I was here.
‘You want to call the cops?’
‘Not if you don’t. It’s your house.’
Mitch gave it some thought. Evan felt sure he was about to come out with some crack about how it didn’t feel like it.
‘I’ll see what Charlotte wants to do. Maybe I’ll move back in for a while. Get a security camera.’
Evan kept his face deadpan, his eyes flat. Mitch turned back towards the garage.
‘Wait here. I’m gonna get some beers. Try not to cause any more trouble while I’m gone.’
Evan walked with him to the side door, glanced into the Corvette as he passed it. Before everything kicked off, he heard the door being quietly shut—and he knew now it wasn’t Kyle sneaking back, he’d been upstairs. There was only one other person who had been in the garage. Sure enough, there was a piece of paper on the passenger seat that hadn’t been there earlier when he sat in the car with Kyle. He waited until Mitch drove off, then got in the car and read Carl Hendricks’ latest message.
Chapter 22
EVAN STARED AT THE words on the paper and wished he knew what the rest of it said.
Protect what you love
Because it was actually a piece of paper torn in half. He had a bad feeling there was worse on the other half—spelling out what would happen if he failed to do just that. He also knew he wouldn’t have to wait much longer to find out what it was.
It wasn’t hard to work out what this part meant. The note was left in this car, in this house, where his sister and her family lived. With Sarah gone, they were all he had left to love and protect. The note was a threat against them.
It made him question the wisdom of letting Charlotte and Mitch decide whether to bring in the police or not. They didn’t have all the facts he did. Should he show them the note, tell them his concerns?
He pulled out his phone and called Guillory. It went straight to voicemail. He sent her a text.
Call me when you get a chance.
He sat in the car and thought about Floyd Gray, the sort of man he was. A man who leaves a dead fish on your caved-in windshield, who keeps a trained attack dog that responds without question to a single whispered command. What else was he capable of? He was still sitting and thinking when Mitch got back five minutes later, carrying two six-packs of beer and banged on the window. He followed him into the kitchen. The white tiled floor was covered in bloody drool.
‘Better get that cleaned up before Charlotte gets home,’ Mitch said.
Evan fetched a mop from the garage. Together they got the kitchen cleaned up, drinking a couple of beers as they worked, their differences a thing of the past.
‘Sure you don’t want to call the police?’ Evan said.
Mitch looked at him for a long while.
‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’
Evan passed the note to him.
‘What’s that? A joke?’
‘Somebody’s stalking me. It wasn’t a case of lucky I was here tonight, it was because I’m here.’
Mitch shook his head and leaned against the kitchen counter.
‘You’re being paranoid. There was a break-in down the street last week. I’m sure it’s the same guy or gang. I’m definitely getting a security camera.’
‘And the note?’
‘I don’t know. How do you know it’s anything to do with you? It doesn’t say hey, Evan, protect what you love, does it?’
There wasn’t any point arguing that one.
‘What about the dog?’
‘What about it?’
/> Mitch’s voice had an edge of irritation to it now.
‘How likely is it you take your dog along when you’re planning on breaking into people’s houses?’
Mitch snorted and shook his head again.
‘A lot more likely than a maniac using a dog to hunt you down. I know the job you do, Evan, but I think you’ve been watching too much TV. Same thing happens to Kyle if we don’t restrict it.’
He got a couple more beers from the fridge.
‘Have another beer, relax.’
Evan took the beer, didn’t relax.
‘I’m not being paranoid. I’ve had a number of threatening notes like this one.’
Mitch put his beer on the counter, rested his hands on his hips.
‘Okay, let’s say you’re right. There’s some lunatic after you and he followed you here tonight to leave you that message.’ He paused and held up his hand. ‘Now, don’t get me wrong here, but if you really think that’s what happened, then don’t come around here anymore.’
It came out a bit too strong, especially since they’d only patched things up in the last half-hour. He made an effort to soften his tone of voice.
‘Not for a while anyway, until it sorts itself out.’
He gave Evan an easy-when-you-think-about-it look.
‘I’m worried he might try to get to me through you.’
Mitch’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide.
‘Me?’
‘Charlotte, the kids.’
‘Okay, that’s it, no more of this crap.’
He gripped Evan’s elbow firmly, steered him into the living room.
‘Sit down and drink your beer. And not a word of this shit when Charlotte gets home. Clear?’
‘I had to say it—’
‘Are we clear?’
It was no use arguing, not for the moment anyway. He nodded, feeling like a little boy being told never to utter that bad word he’d been caught saying again. Then Mitch caught sight of Max curled up comfortably on the couch, his bloody muzzle resting on the cream-colored cushions.
‘What’s he doing on the couch? Jesus Christ, he’s got blood all over it.’
The Evan Buckley Thrillers: Books 1 - 4 (Evan Buckley Thrillers Boxsets) Page 67