With Rosey’s system, the front of the house and the back of the house were vulnerable to attack since there were two of us. The approaching killers didn’t know this, of course, but we knew it. The plan was to stand our ground at the side windows for ten minutes after the first light activated. Then we would both go downstairs, I would take the front and he would protect the back. There were trigger lights, as he referred to them, in the back and front, but after ten minutes he said that the prey would have either crawled out of the light or the ones left realized what had happened and stopped advancing. Either way, we were then on our own skills as hunters to stop them from entering the cabin. The one advantage we had was that once the trigger-lights came on, they stayed on until the light of dawn. Wonderful inventions.
They must have been anxious because the first light came on less than five minutes after his prediction. I didn’t see the light come on exactly, but I heard the cry from someone outside and then came the horrendous blast from his rifle. The groaning from outside stopped immediately.
A twig snapped off to my left, towards the front of the house. A swishing sound came next. I raised my rifle.
“Ugh!” somebody said in the dark shadows to my left.
The light came on. I had no time to discern anything about the man below. I fired one shot and he fell. Fish in a barrel. My stomach felt queasy.
All was quiet for a few minutes. I moved away from the window just to be cautious. I figured that there was no way anyone from below could see me, but I wasn’t about to take any chances. They could be smarter than Rosey thought, or luckier. No sense putting my life in jeopardy so I could hear Rosey either apologize later for them shooting me or fuss at me for being so careless. Careless was not one of my character flaws.
The light to my far right came on. It was towards the back of the cabin where there was lots of darkness. I hadn’t heard any moaning sound to speak of. Maybe some other sound had awakened the light. I turned with my rifle aimed and ready.
My target was holding his leg, trying desperately to remove the stake embedded in his left calf. I could see blood. The last thing he did before I shot him was to put his right hand in front of his eye to ward off the blinding spotlight.
This had stopped being fun before it had even started. I was not given to this line of work. Something recoiled within me at what I was engaged in doing. The queasiness was still with me.
A shot ricocheted off the window casing just above my head and to my left. I doubt the shooter intended it to be a warning shot. He had simply been a bad shot in the dark. It practically destroyed the window casing. I was unscathed, but lucky.
No new light had come on, so I had no idea as to where the shot originated. I moved away from the window and waited.
Rosey crawled into my room on his hands and knees scooting the rifle along in his right hand.
“We’re a little better targets now that the spotlights have come on. They have a better view of our window positions. Did all of your lights come on?”
“I don’t know. I think so, but I can’t be for sure.”
He moved stealthily to the left of the window and cautiously peered out, looking first at the rear of the cabin. After stooping to all fours again, he crawled under the window and then cautiously leaned against the wall and looked towards the front of the house from a seated position.
“They’re all on. I’m going back to my side. You come with me. I have two lights that have not been triggered yet.”
“Shouldn’t I keep a watch on this side of the house?”
“No.”
He was out the door of my room and into his before I could process his answer. I dropped to all fours and moved steadily to his room carrying my rifle with me. I had the .357 in a holster on my side just in case.
“How many left?” I said.
“No way of telling. Three are down. We’ll have to wait to see what happens. Better to be patient than stupid.”
He was to the right of his window looking now and then towards the rear of the cabin. The two lights on his side that were yet to come on were in his line of vision.
“The ones left know by now what happened to the others. Unless they are truly ignorant creatures from another world, they will not make the same mistake that their companions made.”
“So where are we vulnerable now?”
“Back door and the open drive way. Our advantage is that the ones left don’t know that we’re vulnerable at the back door. There are spotlights on the rear of the cabin that are motion sensitive. That will give them pause for deep reflection.”
“No way for us to view the events of our posterior?”
“Attic vent,” he pointed to the ceiling on the other side of his bed. There was sufficient light sneaking into his room from the side-front spotlight so that I could discern a cord hanging down.
“Stairs?” I said as I begin to crawl towards the cord.
“First class cabin, lady.”
“Worth a look?”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
I stood up on the other side of the room and pulled the cord. The badly hidden door opened and I grabbed the bottom step and pulled until it unfolded onto the floor. Amazingly quiet. I expected a lot more noise.
“Unless you have a perfect shot, don’t shoot out the venting window. Screens are there to keep the starlings from nesting. I have my standards to maintain.”
“Let me get this straight. You want to risk our lives against whoever it is out there by not taking a shot if I can in order to keep some damn birds from coming into your attic?”
“Well, since you put it like that, take your best shot, if you have one.”
“Thank you.”
I climbed quickly and walked slowly to the rear of the attic. I didn’t want creaking boards to alert the opposition. I moved slowly so that my weight would not cause the boards to sound the alarm. My height forced me to walk down the center of the cabin. I felt like a kid again walking on a single beam. I held the rifle in front of me with both hands to keep my balance. The window was a perfect height to view or shoot from, but the darkness below made seeing impossible. All was quiet.
When I did my balancing act back to the collapsible stairs and descended, Rosey was gone from his window perch. His rifle was leaning against the wall to the right of the window. The handgun was gone. I noticed that the rear lights had still not come on.
Upon entering the narrow hallway, I stopped to listen for sounds that might be coming up from the first floor of the cabin. Silence and stillness greeted my intense listening. After failing to see Rosey in my shadowy bedroom, I eased my way to the short balcony at the top of the stairs. I sat down on the little balcony floor and put my feet on the first step. Placing my rifle barrel against one of the handrail supports and firmly gripping both the barrel and the support at the same time, I aimed my weapon at the front door of the cabin and waited. The still of the night.
Time passed slowly. I had no idea how much time had passed, except that my hand holding onto both the rifle barrel and the handrail support was getting tired. I loosened my grip, shook my hand, and placed in back in the same position. The sound on the front porch startled me. It might have been the sound of a foot taking a step. I was ready.
The front of the cabin was still relatively dark. The only light coming in was diffused from the side spotlights. The door opened and I saw a hand. The hand pushed the door and it continued to open. The person withdrew their hand from sight.
Since I didn’t know where Rosey was, I had no idea whether he was about to walk into the front door of the cabin or a stranger who intended to kill me. I figured that Rosey would not be stupid enough to come in unannounced and swing the door open before he entered. My breathing increased as I waited for the fool outside to enter.
The waiting intensified. Nothing happened. Did he want an invitation? Maybe he was smarter than I had given him credit. A hand, then the arm suddenly emerged around the corner of the doorjamb and flicked the lig
ht-switch to the on position. The Great Room lit up immediately and I felt exposed for the first time. There was no place for me to hide. Shoot first and ask questions later.
Instead of coming in the front door, a man emerged in shadowy view at the window to my left of the front door. I shifted the rifle and my aim to the left and fired. The window shattered and the man recoiled backwards with intense force. It took a minute or so for me to make out what it was that I was looking at through the shattered window glass. It was the bottom of the man’s shoes.
I wanted to move, but I dared not. I did not enjoy having that light on in the Great Room. There was a double switch just above my head to my right. I moved my right hand slowly up the wall and pushed the switch closest to me. The Great Room went dark once more. I breathed.
For some reason waiting in the dark is better than waiting in the light when you are being hunted. Go figure.
I glanced at my watch. It was after 10. I should have been getting ready for bed, but here I was up to my eyeballs in violence and death. Perhaps I needed to rethink my career choices.
Presently I heard someone walking towards the cabin whistling. They were whistling that old Barry Sadler tune from the sixties, The Green Beret. It had to be Rosey. No one else would have been that brazen. I waited just in case I was mistaken about the song and the brazenness.
“Clancy?” his mellow voice said before he showed his form at the door.
“What?”
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. I just killed three people tonight. You know how to show a girl a good time, buddy. And where have you been?” I was not a happy camper at this point.
“Checking the woods. All’s clear.”
“And you know this how?”
“Great abilities at tracking and hunting.”
“Just four of them?” I said as I walked down the stairs towards the front door.
“Started with five. One left.”
“Coward,” I flipped the switch and we had light once more in the Great Room.
“Don’t think so. His vehicle stopped on the other side of the mailbox. His tracks show him walking down to the other car where the four were gathered on this side of the mailbox. His tracks returned to his car and he left.”
Rosey was wearing an outfit of camouflaged fatigues complete with hat and boots.
“Wish the others had left, too,” I said as I leaned my rifle against the wall.
“They be sayin’ the same thing, if they could.”
29
It was nearly five o’clock the next morning before I finally had the opportunity to go to sleep.
Rosey had placed a call to someone after the shooting stopped, and fifty minutes later the woods around the cabin was crawling with FBI, Virginia State Police, an ambulance service, and some local authorities. Some of them were inside checking every nook and cranny of the place. I was exhausted, but they naturally wanted to talk to me. Willing participant. It’s not everyday that four people are shot down by a man and a woman in a cabin in the woods. Headlines in some papers.
“Isn’t this going to be bad publicity for you and your company?” I said to Rosey in one of those rare moments around midnight when I was able to speak with him privately.
“Doubt it. Company had nothing to do with it.”
“But your presence alone could taint them, right?”
“Naw.”
He was called away from me by some guy in a dark gray suit before he could explain. Gray Suit looked official, so I stayed on the couch. I closed my eyes hoping that this nightmare would go away. I had gotten myself into a real mess this time. Mama would have a cow when she found out about this.
After several hours of telling the suits my story, and watching them comb the place for whatever it was they wanted, I enjoyed the moment when I realized that they were actually beginning to leave. Little by little, teams of men and women left the place. Joy and rapture.
The dark gray suit stayed the longest. He was the one who had talked with Rosey from the beginning. I got the feeling from my casual watching of them that they knew each other really well. Ace detective.
Finally, around 4:30 or so in the morning, Rosey’s buddy left and we were alone once more. The bodies were gone. Even shell casings were neatly stored and taken off by someone whose job it was to study such things. Someone had even cleaned up the broken glass in the front.
“I’m too tired to talk, but I do have questions.”
“Bet you do.”
“Will hammer on this tomorrow. Sometime. Won’t be before lunch. I can promise you that.”
I dragged myself up the stairs to the bedroom on the left. The bed had been turned down for me. My suitcase was opened on top of a small table. Room service, but no mint on the pillow. I didn’t bother to change clothes. I took off my shoes and climbed in bed. I slept as if I had not done one horrible thing the whole night.
Hours later I awakened to the smell of sausage cooking. There might have been something else in addition to the pig’s offering, but the sausage was absolutely thrilling for a small town girl raised on country breakfasts.
I entered the kitchen area after a long, hot shower and a change of clothes. I felt refreshed, but still tired.
“How long you been up?” I said.
“Since about noon. Had some chores to do.”
“Country life. I’m hungry.”
“Bet you are. Full course breakfast sound okay?”
“What time is it?”
“Does that matter as to what you eat?”
“No. I just wanted to know what time it was.”
“1:30.”
“Great time to be alive.”
“When you consider the alternative.”
“So, what’s on the menu for breakfast?”
“Name something, and I’ve fixed it.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Never joke about food, ma’am. Be bad breeding.”
“Just give me some of everything. I’ll do my best.”
After his major serious breakfast of eggs, grits, sausage, biscuits, gravy, ham slices, cooked apples, strawberry jelly, and coffee, I lay down on the couch to stare through the hole where there was once upon a time a window frame. I wasn’t thinking too much about the missing window. You just can’t kill people and not let it affect you.
“Processing?” he said after he had finished washing the dishes.
“Suppose so.”
“Tough business I’m in. Takes a while to get over a kill.”
“A kill? Is that military talk? Professional Killers Society lingo? A kill? What in heaven’s name does that mean?” I was angry.
“Good to vent. You might as well take it out on me.”
“No one else around,” I said.
“Forest critters.”
“They wouldn’t understand.”
“They know more about the forces of nature than you and I could learn in several lifetimes. It’s once in a while for us. For them, it’s round the clock.”
I was silent for a few minutes. Rosey drank his coffee silently, but I could hear the sound of him sipping. It was uniquely cool for an August day.
“I suppose that our little adventure is all over the papers this morning,” I was resigned to having my whole career changed.
“Don’t think so.”
I sat up on the couch and turned toward him. He was sitting in the large recliner that matched the couch. Must have been his favorite chair. Detective par excellence.
“Why not?”
“I work for the government, Clancy. When something like this happens, there is no trail left. It all disappears. As far as anyone is concerned, it never happened.”
“You mean my mother will not read about this or hear about it on the evening news tonight?”
“Never happened. No news to report.”
“You work for the FBI?”
“No.”
He finished his coffee and set the cup down on the table next to his
chair. He crossed his legs after he had reclined the chair to a more comfortable position.
“So who do you work for?”
“Better not tell you that. Need to know basis. You understand.”
“I understand zilch here. I just killed three people last night protecting your butt. Now you tell me it never happened. What kind of crap is this? Who are you?”
I think I was yelling by the time I had finished my little soliloquy of questions and insightful pining. Rosey never flinched from his crossed-leg, almost prone position in the recliner. He appeared to be comfortable.
I relaxed my throat muscles and tried to calm down before I spoke again.
“This is what you do for a living?”
“I investigate criminals. My office and my connection with the law firm is all a front for my undercover government job. There is no way anyone can trace me to what I do. There is no record, no file, no paper trail from me to the government or from them back to me. You were able to find out more about me than anyone else. I still wonder about that, but that’s your business. You’re smart. You’re good to have around in a life-threatening situation. And, …” he hesitated and then fell silent.
“And what?”
“I trust you.”
“So what would you have done if I had not come to D.C. to warn you about Joey and his boys?”
“Don’t know. I hope that I could have avoided a nasty situation.”
“Well, Jasper, even with my help, you and I failed to avoid a nasty situation.”
“I meant nasty in the sense that I could be wounded or killed. You made my job easier.”
“I’d say so. But you could have called in some more people to help you, right?”
“No.”
“No? With all the people who showed up here last night and this morning. You don’t have one other person who would come to your aid?”
“I work alone.”
“What a macho.”
“Nature of the job. In my line of work, it’s hard to know whom to trust. Prevailing philosophy is to trust no one.”
“So, your trusting me is a bit of a departure for your norm.”
One Lost Soul More: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 1) Page 11