Stealth Moves

by Sanna Hines

  Holly pulled out her key to open the ground-floor door, but it wasn’t locked. It opened easily with a push, letting her into the corridor leading to her room. Lumber, stone and electric cords blocked the end of the passage. She heard the whine of a power saw and sharp explosions from a nail gun—way too much noise to endure inside her room. Holly touched her key to the inner house door, only to find it wasn’t locked, either. Odd. Jen was so careful about keeping the house buttoned up.

  In the kitchen, Teddy’s pen was empty. Holly called Jen’s name but got no response. She decided the housekeeper must have taken the dog for a walk, so only she and Catherine were in the house. Maybe this was right time to talk with Catherine, to beg for a second chance. Holly went searching for her almost-former employer.

  Catherine wasn’t on the first floor or the second. Her purse sat on the desk in her study, so she hadn’t left the house.

  On the way up to the third floor, Holly saw Liv’s door open, her sheets and blankets sprawled over the side of the four-poster bed. The frilly coverlet lay wadded under the bed skirt. It wasn’t like Liv to leave her room a mess; far as Holly could tell, she’d inherited the Smallwood gene for neatness. Was she waging a protest, making a statement?

  One dainty foot in a pink-satin slipper protruded from under the footboard. Holly had seen those slippers before. She breathed, “Catherine?” and then shouted, “Catherine!” as she rushed into the room. Tugging at coverlet, Holly pulled the trapped woman’s upper half out from under the bed and then worked the folds away from her head. Blonde hair spilled out; she was lying on her face. When Holly rolled her over, she found Catherine’s eyes open. The pupils constricted from the sudden shift in light. Holly touched her face; it was warm, and she felt slow, steady breaths on her hand.

  Catherine was having a seizure. Eyes open, the woman’s mind was awake while her body slept. Holly wanted to comfort her, but there were things she had to do first. “Hold on, Catherine,” Holly urged.

  She rushed into the suite’s bathroom to make sure no one was hiding there, then locked the bedroom door. A dozen choices ran through her mind: Search the house? No, guard Catherine. What if Jen came home to face an attacker? Jen had the dog; Teddy would be some protection. Holly called 911, and then tended to Catherine. Stripping away the bedding, she found her hand and held it, giving it gentle squeezes, asking her to wake, to come back.

  A minutes passed before Catherine blinked. Her whole body shuddered. She said, “I…I—” but couldn’t get out anything else until she licked her dry lips and swallowed.

  “You’re safe. I’m here. Are you hurt?”

  Catherine’s head lolled to the side. Holly wasn’t sure what she meant until Catherine’s chin lifted and her eyes peered toward the door. “Man. Man.”

  “What man? What happened here?”

  Before Catherine could answer, a man’s bloody face rose up from the far side of the bed. “Help!” he croaked.

  Fifteen minutes later, Police Officers Fiero and McGinty arrived. They gathered the workmen together in the Smallwood family room. Fiero interviewed the injured man privately in the pantry behind the kitchen. McGinty stayed with the others, listening to their comments, taking stock of them, Holly guessed. When Jen came back with Teddy, she found a houseful of people.

  The man in Liv’s room turned out to be a security system installer; the blood came from his nose. Now cleaned up, Ryan Sykes, a young, fit-looking guy not much older than Holly, finished his time with Fiero and returned to the family room. He seemed eager to talk about his experience.

  Sykes was wiring Liv’s window when his eyes “wobbled. Honestly, it was like my eyeballs were vibrating. Then I thought I’d heave. I felt sick to my stomach, and I couldn’t catch my breath. I kept trying to pull in air, but my chest was heavy as lead. Freaky,” he added, shaking his head. “And scary, too. It’s really scary when you can’t breathe.”

  That was the last thing he remembered before coming to on Liv’s floor. “I must have hit my nose when I passed out and fell,” Sykes said. The police sent him to the hospital.

  Catherine’s interview came next. She insisted Holly accompany her to the pantry. “I need you to confirm I wasn’t drunk or drugged. People just don’t understand cataplexy.”

  She spoke normally, bolstered by a dose of medicine she’d neglected to take earlier. “I was in my room and heard a thump above my head, like something heavy fell. I went to see what happened. When I opened Olivia’s door, someone shoved me down on the floor and wrapped me in the bedcover. I was terrified. My cataplexy kicked in.” She explained what that meant before she went on. “I was face-down, afraid I’d suffocate, trapped for I don’t know how long before Holly found me.”

  Catherine hadn’t seen her assailant, but knew it was a man. “He was strong. A woman couldn’t move me around so easily.”

  Holly waited with her in the living room through the other private interviews. McGinty asked the group if anyone left the premises during the morning.

  “Yeah,” a carpenter said. “There was a tall guy who’s not here now.”

  “Did he have a knit hat? Frizzy, brown hair? Beard and mustache?” Holly asked.

  “No hat, no beard.” The workman scratched his head. “Clean shaven and real short hair—a buzz cut maybe. I’d fiddled with the camera, and he kind of gave me a dirty look, so I figured he was a security guy.”

  “What camera?” Catherine asked.

  “The one on the wall.”

  The other security installer—Ryan Sykes’ partner—spoke up. “We didn’t put a camera there. Must be from an earlier system.”

  “There was no earlier system,” Catherine said.

  McGinty went to the deck where he inspected the camera, peering through new lattice fence toward the brick wall. Everyone else trailed out onto the terrace below to watch the carpenter take the camera from the wall. “Looks new.” He handed a round button cam to the cop. “Not even dusty. It reflected the sunlight. That’s why I saw it.”

  Holly thought about the intruder Mike chased off on Sunday. She reminded the officers about him. They told Catherine detectives would call on her.

  After the police left, Catherine sent the workers home. Tomorrow, she told them, would be soon enough to get on with the jobs. When Jen went to re-check the rest of the house, Holly was alone with Catherine.

  “I can’t thank you enough for rescuing me,” Catherine said. “I was really in a pickle.”

  Holly smiled at the old-time phrase, but she thought this was the moment to ask for her job back. “Would you reconsider keeping me on as Liv’s bodyguard?”

  Catherine eyed Holly, sighed, and then said, “I still believe I need a person with more experience. I’m sorry.”

  Holly exhaled her despair. She was out—and that was that.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Day 11—Tuesday

  Stealth felt the wood paneling of his home’s elevator pressing against his back. He opened his eyes, and saw the scissor gate next to him reflected in the back wall mirror. The elevator was moving upward.

  Another lapse. Another gap in his memory. They were coming more often and lasting longer. How much time passed? What had Brandon done with their body?

  Brandon giggled. You’ll see. Take a look.

  Stealth stepped toward the elevator’s mirror. For the first time since Brandon died, he saw his twin exactly as he looked on the last day of his life.

  Even in the cool, blue light from the sconces, Brandon’s cheeks were flushed from cold. There was a red spot on his chin where Stealth hit him with a snowball during the walk to school. Brandon’s jaw line and nose were shorter, more rounded than Stealth remembered. His cheekbones had no hollows; there was barely a hint of fuzz on his upper lip. Brandon’s hair was a cap of tight, nappy curls.

  He looked so young. Had they both been that young?

  Stealth pictured the January morning. He got dressed for school in an agony of doubt and anticipation. Would he see Drew? Wou
ld they talk? Would a special look pass between them?

  No. If they met in the hall, he’d ignore Drew. Like a chick still growing inside an egg, Stealth wasn’t ready to come out yet. He needed his shell for protection.

  Brandon ripped the shell apart. Teasing, shouting, he tossed out Stealth’s secret to any passing Sidley.

  Eleven years later, Stealth felt the terror and fury again. He clenched his fists and glared at Brandon’s face in the mirror. “Stealth hated you that day.”

  I know. You’ll hate me today, too.

  Stealth blinked. Brandon’s image disappeared, replaced by a face like a boiled, peeled egg—hair so short it looked army cut, skin by the mouth too white. He wore a Tripl Thret tee shirt. Who…?

  It’s us, bro! Brandon crowed. We’re in disguise.

  Stealth’s felt his stubbly head, his naked upper lip and chin. He pinched himself, yelped, and knew he wasn’t dreaming. Too shocked to shout or swear, he moaned, “Why?”

  The elevator stopped. They were on the fourth floor. Stealth tore himself away from the awful face in the mirror to heave open the gate.

  He stormed into their bedroom, slammed the door, and glowered at the wall above Brandon’s bed. Posters of girls with big boobs and wide asses smiled coyly over their shoulders or lolled on beach sand. “And what’s that?” Stealth howled.

  New stuff. Stuff I wanted. Got you one, too. Turn around.

  Stealth faced his side of the room. He found a poster of a male model in a waterfall pool, rivulets glazing his chest. Stealth stared, strode to the picture, and ripped it in half.

  Hey! Brandon complained. You’re not tearing them all down.

  He was. Stealth attacked the other posters while Brandon swore inside his head. About to crumple the paper in his hands, he realized the posters came from some grimy store. He dropped them to crush under his heel.

  Stealth wasn’t done yet. Picking up a desk chair, he went the elevator, shoved back the gate, and swung the chair at the mirror. As glass rained down, Stealth felt relief. He returned to the bedroom, seated himself on his bed and crossed his arms. “Now,” he said, “let’s hear it.”

  I went out. Had to. A guy found the camera I’d put up at Olivia’s house. I couldn’t leave it that way. So I got this idea of slaving the webcam of the computer in her bedroom. I knew it was there. She sent a picture of her room to her mother. The picture was still in her phone. I mean how cool is it to watch her whenever I want?

  Stealth didn’t answer. There were no words.

  Couldn’t work out how to get in the house until I saw guys fixing things. Easy to sneak in and act like I had a job to do, but what if I ran into the redhead? She knows the beardo look, which is fugly anyway, so I shaved it all off.

  “You didn’t worry about being caught?” Stealth asked. He felt surreal. Brandon was out of control. He had to be stopped.

  Only when the grandmother came in. I had to push her down and roll her up in bedding to give me time to get away.

  Stealth blinked. “Go on.”

  I did something even cooler.

  Sick of Brandon’s dramatic pauses, Stealth barked, “Just spill it. Cut the crap.”

  Okay. I used the weapon. It worked.

  Stealth shot to his feet. “Did you kill someone? Tell me!”

  No, no, no. I used the mini-weapon, the pocket one. Worked great—dropped a guy in seconds. He was breathing when I left.

  Stealth nodded. “Good. Did you try it on anyone else?”

  No time. I had to get out pretty quick.

  Stealth sat in silence, deciding how to say what he had to say next. It was bath day for the Momster; Brandon couldn’t disappear in a sulk. Still, he needed boundaries. “You’re grounded, Brandon. You won’t leave the house until this weekend. To make sure, we’ll wear an ankle bracelet. It’ll shock us if we try to leave. I have one in my lab.”

  But you can’t! Brandon protested.

  “Sorry. It’s just for the next few days. Friday, at the concert, we get the ransom money to bribe Karina. Saturday, we do the final tests, DOD takes the weapons, and there’s more money. We’ll have enough to buy Karina’s share of this house if she feels the bug to sell again, and then we’re done. We’ll never have to leave here.”

  What about our Stealthie collection? When do we finish with them?

  “This weekend. Everything ends this weekend.”

  And if I don’t want it to?

  Stealth stripped off the hated tee shirt and hurled it at the pile of posters. “Then we fight. Last time we fought, you lost.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Day 13—Thursday afternoon

  Liv knelt on the floor of her bedroom playing tug-o’-war with Teddy. Her eyes drifted from the brown stain where some stranger bled all over her carpet to the space behind the hall door. Another stranger had hidden there, waiting to grab Grandmother and stuff her under the bed.

  She shivered. Her room—the one place she could call her own—seemed public, violated, not hers. Fear knotted her stomach.

  Nothing was right. Even school was a mess, the rhythms of the day all jumbled instead of regular as tides. She rolled back the days in her mind, trying to make sense of them.

  On Tuesday, she’d been relieved Tay and Maddy walked with her to school. She felt guilty about Holly, but friends gave her an excuse to ignore her bodyguard.

  When they reached school, everyone talked in quiet voices and acted emo because they’d just learned Natalie Porcini was dead. During assembly, one boy asked if school would be called off for the funeral. “Shouldn’t we all go?”

  Headmaster Taunton said no. Students were safer in school than at a large gathering, which news media predicted for the funeral. “The Sidley School will contribute to Miss Porcini’s memorial fund. Students are encouraged to send their own condolences and contributions. All school regulations remain in force, particularly those about going to and from home with your assigned companion and staying on campus throughout the school day.”

  Wild stories about Natalie raced through school. Liv heard she was beaten to death and chopped into little pieces. She wanted to shout down the stupid rumors, but she couldn’t let anyone know who found the body. Biting back sharp words, Liv walked between classes with head down and shoulders hunched until lunch.

  She had a saved seat at the lunch table with Maddy and Tay, where she had to drop the bomb about her cancelled birthday party. “My grandmother’s mad at me,” was how she explained it. Rodrigo jumped in with a story about being punished for staying out all night back home in Brazil, and for once, Liv was glad he talked too much.

  After lunch, Miss Tinsley pulled her out of math class “for a chat.” Liv followed the school psychologist to her office, sat down, and tried to hide how nervous she felt. Uncle Mike had nothing good to say about his ex. Liv didn’t trust her.

  Her office decorations were few: framed diplomas and a picture turned away from Liv’s side of the desk. Tinsley was the only interesting thing to look at. While she studied some papers, her thick, brown hair gleamed in the light from the window. She wore a black sweater and an elaborate tribal necklace. Silver bands encased one wrist. When she looked up, dark blue eyes fixed on Liv.

  “First, I want to apologize for not talking with you sooner,” Tinsley said. “The fact that I’m divorcing your uncle makes things a little awkward.”

  Liv nodded.

  “I’d like to know how other students are treating you. Sometimes, tragedy provokes a shunning reaction.”

  “Tragedy?” Liv sucked in her breath. Does she know I found Natalie?

  “Ariel Kelly’s kidnapping. You were a witness, weren’t you?”

  “Oh.” Liv exhaled. “Yes, I was there.”

  “And afterward? Did students avoid you?”

  “No.” Liv frowned, surprised by the question. “Everyone’s been fine.”

  “Good, good.” Tinsley leaned back in her chair. “It can be rough. I’ve been through it myself. A car struck my brothe
r outside Sidley’s doors. His death changed people’s attitudes toward me. They didn’t know what to say, so they stopped talking. I felt isolated, alone.”

  Liv remembered her interview with Kyle’s teacher, who told her about a boy killed in front of school. He had a twin—a science genius. “Did people ignore your other brother, too?”

  Tinsley’s eyes opened wide. “You know the story? It’s been such a long time, I thought people forgot.”

  “Mr. Bennett mentioned the accident when I asked him about Kyle. He said the only one better at science than Kyle was your brother.”

  “Brent is one of a kind.” Tinsley rolled her eyes. “As a freshman, his scientific knowledge was far beyond Sidley’s curriculum. He was scheduled for university classes, but after Brandon died, Brent studied at home.”

  Liv didn’t know what to say. She smiled suddenly as the irony of Tinsley’s remarks hit her.

  Tinsley smiled back. “Well, I didn’t call you in to talk about my family. The fact that you have a bodyguard hasn’t gone unnoticed. Parents want to know if they should hire bodyguards for their students. What’s your opinion?”

  “Bodyguards are awful! I’ve been grounded because of mine, and it’s all so lame. Sidleys aren’t in more danger than anyone else. The kidnapper just takes people he can get.”

  Tinsley leaned on a hand. “Crimes of opportunity… Perhaps, perhaps not. We’ve lost two students, which indicates a pattern. Still, this bodyguard you have—she’s young? Attractive?”

  Strange questions. Liv blinked. “She’s just out of college, and she’s…uh…she’s tall. I don’t think she’ll be around much longer. Like I said, bodyguards aren’t necessary. My grandmother’s starting to think so.” Liv wished it were true.

  Tinsley dismissed her, and Liv felt she’d dodged a bullet. The grilling session hadn’t been bad. Liv shrugged, went back to geometry class, and struggled with the mysteries of triangles.

  At the end of the day, she was near the back of the leaving line. Her friends were close to the door. Thinking they’d wait for her outside, Liv saw only Holly on the sidewalk. Holly told her what happened at home.