Prey for Us

by Geoffrey Neil

  “How can you enjoy privacy if you know Waylon could come back and hurt you?”

  “I want to be alone,” Thane said, louder.

  “What an interesting conversation…” A voice startled them both. Ms. Perkins peered over the back fence, eavesdropping. “I knew you were up to no good!”

  Morana bristled. She spun toward the woman. “You bitch!”

  Thane took her arm and said, “Leave her.”

  Morana pulled free of his grip and stormed to the fence.

  Mrs. Perkins’s head dropped from view.

  Morana looked over and saw Mrs. Perkins standing a safe distance away, amidst her prized African lilies.

  Morana held an icy stare on her.

  “What?” Mrs. Perkins said. “Why are you looking at me that way? I document everything I see over there, and I’m going to document what I just heard, too.” She pointed to Thane’s garage. “Something’s not right with what’s going on in there, and I think it’s high time the authorities learned about it.”

  “Let me tell you something…” Morana said.

  Thane came up behind her and said, “Mo, the footprints are a bigger problem—please.” He led her back toward the front of the garage and whispered, “She constantly threatens, but has never actually called anyone to complain.”

  Morana looked over her shoulder at the fence as they retreated and said, “After the harassment you’ve suffered from Waylon, the last thing you need to deal with is harassment from this hag.”

  “Thank you. Maybe now that you’ve intimidated her, she’ll leave me alone.”

  “It would be her best option,” Morana said. “Can I call you later? —I mean sooner?”

  “I have to figure some things out. I’ll call you instead.”

  “Please call me soon.” Morana hugged him and walked up the driveway through the pergola and disappeared around the corner.

  Chapter 14

  THE NEXT MORNING, Morana pounded on the front door. She had waited for over a minute after ringing the doorbell three times.

  “Just hold your horses,” a voice echoed from inside followed by footsteps. The door’s floral window curtain parted. Mrs. Perkins peered out, scowling. “What is it? Are you soliciting?”

  “No, it’s Thane’s friend.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  Morana looked down at herself. “I know I look different.”

  “Is that your car in my driveway?” she said, tapping the window.

  “Yes, I’ll only be a minute.”

  “There’s plenty of room on the street. And why did you back in?”

  Morana glanced over her shoulder at her Explorer, parked only inches from the garage door. “Let me explain. I have a gift for you.” She held up a package the size of a dictionary, wrapped in white paper with a blue ribbon.

  The curtain closed, and a deadbolt unlocked. Mrs. Perkins opened the door and beamed at the package. “For me? Oh, my!”

  Morana said, “I apologize for not calling first, but I won’t take much of your time—May I come in?”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Perkins said, stepping aside. As Morana passed by, Mrs. Perkins reached for the package, but Morana didn’t hand it over.

  Morana looked around a home that had the dated, mismatched furniture and clutter of a hoarder. The collection of rare plates that Mrs. Perkins mentioned at the fence was stacked on shelves along the short hallway. In the living room, a card table sat amidst several easy chairs and two crooked sofas.

  “Why would you get me a gift?” Mrs. Perkins asked, pointing to a sofa for Morana to sit.

  “It’s my way of making things right after our discussion in the backyard.” She sat and placed the gift beside her.

  Mrs. Perkins took a seat across from her at the end of a sofa wrapped in clear plastic. “I suppose we could put that behind us,” she said, eyes once again locked onto the gift.

  “Before you open your present,” Morana rested her hand on it, “I wanted to chat with you a little.”

  “About what?” Mrs. Perkins asked, clasping her hands in her lap. “I’ve already agreed to keep the past in the past. Let’s move forward.”

  Morana said, “I appreciate your willingness to move on, but first I want to apologize about the noises you’ve been hearing in Thane’s garage, and we’ll do our best to control our kitty cat. Unfortunately, I’m afraid I can’t help you with the tragic loss of your plate.”

  Mrs. Perkins raised a finger. “Now, it wasn’t just any plate, it was a Bradford Exchange Commemorative Hummingbird Plate—extremely rare.”

  Morana closed her eyes to emphasize the feeling of loss. “I can’t tell you how much your story has disturbed me. I’m here to make it right.”

  “Don’t I wish everyone was as thoughtful as you are?” Mrs. Perkins said, still eyeing the gift, now on Morana’s lap. “You know, your consolation is so kind. I’m glad you have the maturity to show some decency. Thane won’t say two words to me and refuses to lift a finger to solve the problem. His cat is more destructive than gophers. I toil for hours in the blazing hot sun to grow and nurture some of the most sophisticated and delicate flowers, and that horrible varmint digs them up, leaving his disgusting poop nuggets everywhere. Would you put up with that?”

  “Absolutely not.” Morana grimaced.

  “And then after using my garden as a toilet, that cat stalks and kills my beautiful birds perched on my feeder. I know that damn cat has killed at least three times this month. A trail of feathers always leads straight to that garage door.”

  “Are you sure it’s Thane’s cat?”

  “Of course, I’m sure— there’s no denying that it’s Thane’s cat with its tufted ears and long hind legs. It doesn’t even climb the pole, I’ve seen it jump higher than the height of a man.”

  The corners of Morana’s mouth went down, and she nodded, “Impressive.”

  “Impressive? These are innocent birds, simply trying to get a bite to eat.”

  “The cat is, too,” Morana said.

  Mrs. Perkins sucked her teeth and swatted her hand toward Morana. “It’s called cat food. Maybe your friend should look into it instead of murdering my birds.”

  “Just to play devil’s advocate, maybe you should consider that the cat enjoys hunting and catching prey more than eating from a bowl.”

  “I don’t care what appeals to it.” Mrs. Perkins wagged her finger. “Now, you can’t tell me Thane isn’t aware of what his cat is doing. If he doesn’t keep that damned cat off my property, I swear to God, I’ll trap it. Let’s see how that works out.” Mrs. Perkins made a gesture of wiping her hands clean.

  “I promised to keep this brief, so I want to get to the real reason for my visit,” Morana said, twirling the gift on her lap.

  Mrs. Perkins sat up straighter.

  “When we had that conversation by the fence, you mentioned knowing more about what Thane was doing in his garage than he thought you did. You said you had documented it. What did you mean by that?”

  “Well… I just,” Mrs. Perkins stammered.

  Morana interrupted. “Keep in mind that I’m Thane’s best friend and I can’t get him to tell me the things he does in that garage, so perhaps we can swap notes and help one another.”

  Mrs. Perkins looked surprised. “So, you’re coming to me to find out what Thane is doing in there?” She laughed.

  Morana shrugged. “I’ve asked him, but he refuses to say a word about it. Tell me what you’ve seen or heard. Perhaps you’ve looked over the fence while he was transporting something unusual—or anything?”

  “I can tell you one thing for sure… whatever he’s up to, I’m sure it isn’t legal.”

  “Be specific. I need to know exactly what you’ve seen or heard.”

  “He keeps that garage locked up, and the windows covered like it was a crack house. How could I possibly know what’s going on in there?”

  “You said you had documented it.”


  “Suspicions. I've documented my suspicions. And if he thinks I have more than suspicions, well then, all the better. Maybe he’ll stop being such a nuisance. By the way, I’m not the only one who’s suspicious, all the neighbors are, too.”

  “So, you have no evidence, recordings, or documentation about what Thane is doing inside his garage.”

  “Aha! If he sent you here to make sure I didn’t know what he’s really doing that tactic won’t work. If he doesn’t control his creature and stop the strange late-night noises, I will be a bigger problem for him. I’ll call the city.”

  “Why the city?”

  “His garage is a hazard, and you know the saying: If you see something, say something.” Mrs. Perkins got up and retrieved a piece of paper from a narrow foyer table in the hallway. She came back and placed it on the coffee table and tapped her finger on a phone number. “I told you I would.”

  “But Thane hasn’t done anything illegal.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure. I doubt he got a permit for those solar panels he’s rigged in the backyard. And there’s a tree on his side of our common fence that is almost touching the power lines. I’ve told him to trim it because it’s a fire hazard.”

  “You’ll report these things because of the cat?”

  “Absolutely. Hopefully, that won’t be necessary.” She glanced at the gift.

  Morana cleared her throat. “Mrs. Perkins—”

  “Call me Eloisa.”

  “Mrs. Perkins, I’m going to ask you one more time. Do you know anything whatsoever about what Thane does in his garage?”

  Mrs. Perkins took a moment to think. “Nothing for sure, yet, but you better believe I’ll find out.”

  Morana tore the wrapping paper from the gift, exposing a plain brown box.

  Mrs. Perkins raised her finger. “But I thought that was for me…”

  “Oh, it is. And you shouldn’t be surprised to learn that it will fix the cat problem.” Morana reached into the box and pulled out a Glock 43 with a 3.3-inch micro-suppressor. She aimed it at Mrs. Perkins’s gaping mouth.

  Chapter 15

  AN HOUR LATER, Clay’s phone rang. He put it to his ear. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “How did you know it was me?” Morana replied

  “The way you rotate burners, any unfamiliar number is you. Has Thane given up the goods, yet?”

  “No, but he showed me more of what he can do, and I’m having a hard time believing what I saw.”

  “Bigger than lifting that rock?”

  “Imagine being a little kid who is excited about the turnstile at the entrance of Disneyland because they thought that’s all there was.”

  “Wow. So what did he show you?”

  “There’s no way I can explain it on the phone. All those times when you said, ‘trust me’ to get me to come out and see the rock lift, I’m telling you to trust me about Thane’s potential.”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Already?”

  “The housing market is crazy out here. My place triggered a bidding war, and I ended up closing a deal well above my asking price.”

  “Great. We can use the money.”

  “We? That money’s going back into a new place.”

  “You’ll like my plan for the money better, but we can wait to discuss that when you get back. Meanwhile, I need information on a new person.”

  “Who’s on death row now?”

  “Funny. Get me the works on Waylon Snells.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “He’s Everett’s lawyer. Now that Everett has dropped his demand—no thanks to your clumsy $10,000 payoff—this Waylon Snells has continued to pursue Thane.”

  Clay paused. “Snells—Snells—isn’t that the lawyer from the radio? ‘I’ll Help You Get What You Deserve’—that guy?”

  “That’s him.”

  “I don’t remember seeing that name on Thane’s paperwork.”

  “It only had his firm’s name.”

  “Okay, I’ll need a day to pull his info.”

  “No, I need it today.”

  “Impossible. I’m coming back tomorrow. I’ll hand it to you in person then.”

  “That could be too late. Snells is threatening Thane, and I need to get to him. He’s already been scoping and door rattling at Thane’s place. I need this info yesterday.”

  Clay sighed. “If I get you what you need, can we date?”

  “Goodbye, Clay.”

  Chapter 16

  THE NEXT MORNING, Morana woke up in the back seat of her Explorer to the sound of her phone. She reached between the front seats and grabbed the phone from the console. “Hello…”

  “Mo, it’s Thane.”

  “Do you miss me already?” she said, yawning.

  “Can you come back?”

  “What’s wrong? You sound stressed.”

  “I was right. It was Waylon who came onto my property, and he came back again.”

  “How do you know? Did he try to break in?”

  “Yes and… he hasn’t left. Can you come back?”

  “Wait, you say he’s still there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Temporarily.”

  “I’m on my way. Tell me what is happening.”

  “Please, hurry back. I have to hang up now.”

  “No, no! Stay on the phone with me!” Morana said, climbing to the front seat. “Thane… Thane, are you there?”

  The line was dead.

  Morana started the car and sped to Thane’s house, trying to call him back several times.

  When she turned onto his street, she was relieved to see no police activity. Still, rather than breaking Thane’s rule and pulling into the driveway, she parked near the corner and ran half a block in broad daylight despite the risk. She crossed his front yard and went to the corner of the house. She peered down the driveway. She could only see a small corner of the garage. She moved closer, concealing herself behind the pergola, and slid her hand onto her gun under her beltline. She sidestepped to the rear corner of the house. As the garage came into view, she saw that the large roll-up door was open behind Thane’s truck. Inside, Thane fidgeted and paced in the shadows. She pulled out the gun and held it behind her back and called out, “Where is he?”

  Thane looked in her direction but didn’t see her.

  She stepped into view, and he waved for her to come closer.

  Morana held her gun in the ready position as she approached.

  “You don’t need the gun,” Thane said.

  “Where is he?” she said, joining him to stand under the open roll-up door.

  “Over there.” Thane pointed to the entry area where the phone bowl was located.

  “I can’t believe it,” Thane said, grabbing his afro as he paced in a circle in the center of his shop.

  “I don’t see him,” Morana said, creeping toward the entryway. She kept her gun out and ready despite Thane’s instruction to put it away. Something had changed about the garage’s interior—something more than the additional light that streamed in through the large open door. “Thane, I’m so confused. Where is he?”

  Thane walked past her, leading her toward the entry door.

  “I didn’t want to do it.” He pointed. “He’s below that.”

  Morana looked where Thane pointed. The work block had been moved from the center of the shop and was buttressed by another larger block in the entryway, blocking the door. Morana noticed the familiar thin wire connected to its bottom corner. It draped in a long arc up to the black ceiling box.

  Morana stared in disbelief. “My God, you’ve crushed him?”

  “No, I shafted him.”

  “What does that mean? Thane, I am so confused. Please tell me exactly what happened.”

  “He’s under the block… trapped in a shaft. I never wanted it to come to this. I told him to leave, but he refused.
I gave him plenty of warning.”

  “How did you get him in there? A trap door?”

  “Technically, it’s a trap floor. This entire entryway is actually the top of an eighteen-ton block that I designed for a rapid drop.”

  “You moved eighteen tons quickly enough that he couldn’t jump off?” she asked.

  “Yes, I can drop it twenty feet in less than five seconds. He wasn’t quick enough. He tried to jump off. He caught the edge with his fingers but couldn’t hang on.”

  “You never showed me this.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t need to.”

  Morana laughed. “Me too. He is alive, right?”

  “Watch.” Thane squatted beside her and placed his hands on the smaller work block. The faint hum resumed. With little effort, the block slid, creating a thin opening to the dark shaft beneath it.

  Waylon’s shouts immediately echoed from below. “Don’t be an asshole, Sykes. This shit isn’t funny. You better get me out of here.” His footsteps echoed as his shoes scuffed the bottom of the shaft.

  Thane picked up a small flashlight from the table beside the entry door. He returned, and they knelt beside the block. Thane aimed the flashlight into the opening.

  This shaft was substantially larger than the shaft created by the lift block they rode to the sub-lair. About 20 feet below, Waylon stood, wearing a business suit. He glared up at them, shouting and pacing like a trapped wild animal. When the flashlight beam lit his face, he raised his hand to block the light. “Dammit, you fucking runt. It’s not a game. You’re facing some serious consequence if you don’t get me out of here now!”

  Thane stared back without answering.

  Waylon snatched the crumpled black throw rug with the golden locks on it that had been swallowed up with him and hurled it upward at them. It fell back onto him, and he flung it from his shoulder. He screamed, “You have no idea how much shit you’re in, Sykes!” Waylon lunged at the wall with one foot, launching himself upward and clawing as high as he could on the wall in a futile attempt to grab the top edge.

  Thane said, “Fight me if you want to, but you’ll still lose. Sound familiar?”

  “I swear I’m gonna make you sorry for this you mud bug.”