He took a drink of water from his canteen and screwed the lid back on. People who drank bottled drinks, especially water, disgusted him. Nature was the last unspoiled thing on earth, and for his part, he was determined to keep it that way.
Isaac and Charlie were sitting on the porch, and he wondered what it might be like to have a real friend. Briefly, he contemplated what would happen if he stepped out of the woods, walked to the porch, and sat down. Isaac looks like an active guy. Maybe we could do some working out together. Charlie, well, he looks like the type that would be fun to watch football with.
The thought passed as suddenly as it had come. Sure, they might accept him for a while, but only until they found out who he was, or worse, what he did. And really, the twins meant more to him than anything else, any friendship, in the world. No buddy or pal could ever give what he planned to take from them.
He put a pair of Swarovski binoculars to his eyes. He liked being up close and personal, and the binoculars were the best money could buy. They came directly from the factory in Europe. To look through the lenses was to be drawn into a brighter, clearer world. Even at twilight and dusk, they could collect enough light to miraculously illuminate any landscape, and with a price tag near two thousand dollars, they were well worth it. Again, it was all about the details, the priceless details.
Ricky studied his subjects. The lenses followed every move they made. He was looking for character traits, things that might give him an opening. When one got close enough, and studied long enough, the unnoticeable became noticeable.
He also honed in on Isaac. To know how closely a father watched his children was imperative. Is he attentive or withdrawn? Does he keep a continual eye on the girls or check in with them periodically? All pieces of information were necessary to create a solid plan.
He put the binoculars in the pouch of his hooded sweatshirt. The neighborhood backed right up to the forest and offered plenty of cover. There were trees everywhere, ridges to hide behind, and mountains to disappear in. He had hidden in the forest now for over two hours, and no one knew he was there. But sitting and watching didn’t get the fox in the henhouse. Finding a gap to crawl through, a way to weasel in without being noticed, was the trick.
Patience. Patience. Time will bring me the answer. His thoughts were slowly turning from business to lustful pleasure. A new excitement was building, creating a giddy anxiousness.
When, not if, the operation took place, Caroline and Josie would be his first set of twins. The thought made his stomach jump with anticipation. The high was coming. He could feel it. He had to feel it.
Remarkable that they were capable of saving a life. What special, special little girls. A black backpack sat on the pine needles next to him. He removed a leather journal and pen. It was time to make note of some specifics, add a few words to his collection of filth. My hall of fame has a special place just for you two.
He wrote down every thought and observation he could recall. The journal, though, was not just for practical purposes. It was his book of memories and filled with pages dedicated to his previous victims. This particular book of secrets was already halfway full, and there were others in a hidden spot back home. In fact, there were many, many others.
As he finished writing, there was a shift in the environment. All was silent where there had just been the sound of children at play. He ended the entry and looked up. Once again, binoculars pulled him into someone else’s world, a world he longed to share.
Charlie had just disappeared through the screen door and into the house. Next, Caroline and Josie came running up the patio steps and into the kitchen. And finally, holding the door for his lovely wife, Isaac gave one last appreciative look around the neighborhood.
“A detail man,” Ricky murmured.
He didn’t know what Isaac was looking for. He could tell the father was seeing beyond the obvious, noticing the often-overlooked essence of his surroundings. But there was more to it than that. He could sense it. Isaac’s dark eyes were scanning, probing. It came across as more instinctual or habitual than anything. There was no cause for alarm, but from someone who lived by life’s subtleties, Ricky noticed a profoundness and depth to the action.
“I like detail people. They know how to live.”
He stood from the hiding place, packed the binoculars and journal, placed the backpack straps over his shoulders, and turned into the thicket. It was a half-mile to the jogging trail and another quarter-mile to the parking lot. Distance was no problem. There was no spare weight on his lanky, almost meatless frame to tire him out.
When he arrived at his van, the night was brand new. The boldest of stars were shyly peeking out from their homes. The absence of light revealed a darker, hidden beauty. He drove away, and the mountain swallowed him whole. He was the invisible man.
There was nothing to it.
Chapter Three
On a Friday evening, more than three weeks since Josie and Caroline had saved little Jason Smith from his failed attempt at flying, Isaac returned home from work. He parked his restored 1955 Chevy truck in the detached garage and ran along the flagstone sidewalk and up the patio steps, trying to escape the downpour. He was still in uniform. A plaid, unbuttoned flannel shirt hung over a T-shirt. Blue jeans and a pair of leather work boots rounded out his on-the-job attire.
He had been gone for two days when the New Mexico drought broke. Normally he flew patrols Wednesday through Saturday, but dispatch sent him home early. There was no risk of wildfires popping up over the next twenty-four hours. The entire state was getting soaked. And besides, flying in the storm was too dangerous.
He called Sarah from his cell phone to let her know he was coming home sooner than expected. When she promised him a surprise, coupled with his enthusiasm for extra time off, he hustled to finish up.
Isaac enjoyed his job. The flying could get monotonous, but compressing work into a four-day period was the best part. To have three days of uninterrupted time for family every week was priceless. Being away and having to stay in a hotel was the downside. Above everything, though—there was no more killing. He had his wish: a quiet life and family.
He swung open the kitchen door and stepped onto the rug. It didn’t take but a second to realize something was missing. No pitter-patter of feet came running to greet him. Funny since they knew I was on my way. Then an aroma hit his nose and immediately reminded him of days gone by … one day in particular.
“When you said ‘surprise,’” he told to Sarah, “I had no idea.” He shook off the rain and closed the screen door, letting the sound and freshness filter into the house. “Were you already planning this? Tell me you didn’t run out and grab everything after I called.”
She stood over the sink. A hot pink apron slung over a gray tank top and a pair of white skinny jeans nicely complimented her figure. Her slender hips shook ever so slightly as she mixed the contents of something not visible. Her ponytail swished back and forth.
“I’ve been planning it. Actually, it was for tomorrow, but since your home a night early, I thought we might as well celebrate.”
“Sounds good to me.”
She stopped, came across the room, gave him a quick hug and kiss, and went back to work. The front of her kitchen apron read, “I cook. You clean.” But he wasn’t looking at her apron. The wiggle in her walk was driving him crazy after being away for two days.
“Where are the girls?”
“Over at the Smith’s.”
“What are they doing there?”
“I asked Anna to watch them for a while.”
Anna Smith was their next-door-neighbor and Jason’s mother. But the fact that Sarah had asked her to watch the kids told Isaac everything he needed to know. The special meal and the alone time, all of it was by design. Indeed, this was going to be a special evening, and he didn’t see any reason to waste time. Being parents with two eight-year-olds in the house occasionally interfered with spontaneity in the sex life department. The running joke bet
ween them was to be half-lover, half-ninja. Stealth was the name of the game.
He moved across the floor, scooted up against her, and pressed in close. Both muscular forearms wrapped around her waist and brushed against the bottoms of her breasts. His chin nestled into the crook of her neck.
“Do you mind?” she said playfully. She continued to stir. “I’m trying to cook here.”
“Absolutely not,” he moaned into her ear. “I don’t mind at all.”
One of his hands slid up and caressed her bosom. A firm, round breast filled the cup of his palm. Her chest swayed so sweet, and he tightened up his grip. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and the stirring motion drove him nuts.
“Easy, buster.” Her voice was calm, not discouraging. “I didn’t go to all this effort to let it get cold.”
He moved his groping hand out to the tapering tip. “Did you say cold?”
She smiled, almost giggled, but didn’t pull away. The encouragement wasn’t lost, and he pressed his pelvis firmly against her bottom. His other hand went to her free breast. He now had two handfuls, the perfect balance between size, softness, and firmness. Oh, these are the finest things I’ve ever felt.
“Okay, okay,” she said and wiggled loose from his grip. “That’s enough.”
“C’mon, baby,” he coaxed and wrapped his arms back around her waist. He knew she wanted it, just not before dinner. But he was fully wound up and willing to work for it.
“I mean it. I worked hard to make all of this. If you wait, it will be worth it.” She turned back to the sink.
Undeterred, he leaned back against her butt and allowed the shaking motion to work its magic. He filled his face with her hair. It smelled like strawberries and cream, so soft. He was about to whisper something when his thoughts were abruptly cut off.
Living alone in DC for several years had prompted Sarah to take self-defense classes. She didn’t know if she had ever become proficient enough to actually stop an assault, but the knowledge made her feel safer. She recalled a move to dissuade an attacker coming from behind and decided to try it out.
Slowly, her hips moved forward. Then, without warning, she thrust them backward, popping Isaac directly in the crotch. It wasn’t hard enough to damage the family jewels, just enough to let him know she was serious.
He immediately let go, stepped back and groaned.
“I told you to knock it off.”
“Dang, baby,” he complained. “I’m burning up here. Do we have to wait? I promise it won’t take long.”
She turned around, mock distaste written across her face. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I want to hear. ‘It won’t take long.’ You started this, and now you have to live with it.” She pointed a wooden spoon at the area below his belly button.
“I don’t want to wait,” he muttered under his breath and sat at the table.
She pouted her lips out. “Oh, poor thing. Did you get all worked up?”
“You think?”
“Serves you right. I told you I was trying to cook and didn’t want the food to get cold.” Again, she used the wooden spoon to point at his crotch. “Looks like more than the food is cooling off.”
“Why you little—” He flew across the room. Isaac had her by a good ten inches and seventy pounds. He wrapped her up and began tickling unmercifully.
She screamed, writhing as she tried to beat him away with the spoon. “No! No!” she protested. She continued to squirm and scream. “Stop! Stop! Stop!”
Finally, after he was satisfied with his revenge, he quit and kissed her on the forehead. He spun her around to the sink and smacked her on that fine backside.
The mystery dish ended up being a bowl of made-from-scratch mashed potatoes. She was whipping the hell out of the spuds when he arrived, and the motion of her ocean started the whole ordeal.
The potatoes accompanied a pile of freshly steamed Maryland blue crabs, his favorite. The smell, taste, and task of cracking the shells truly did take him back in time. It was what they ate on their first real date.
The meal was incredible, as was the mess. But that was just part of seafood, especially crabs.
Sarah was prepared to bargain. “If you’ll start cleaning, I’ll get the girls’ beds ready. I imagine they’ll be asleep, and I told Anna we would come get them before midnight.”
“That’s not for two hours.”
“I know.” There was coyness in her words.
Isaac quickly scooted his chair back and got to his feet. “Deal!”
Sarah disappeared into the hallway, and he carried everything to the sink. An ex-military man, and therefore trained to the utmost in efficiency, he removed the trash can from the pantry and placed it directly beside himself. He scraped the trash in the can on his left, rinsed each dish in the sink, and put them into the dishwasher on his right. It wasn’t just dishes he handled this way. It was most things. He didn’t think anything of it, but their friends always got a kick out of watching.
He was turning and burning, laser-focused on the task. The faster he finished, the faster he could go back there with Ms. Plaything and have some fun. But in the middle of his rhythm, he stopped. He could feel a presence, an energy. Someone was there, watching him. He was sure of it. Every ounce of his body could feel it.
He slowly turned to his right, put a plate in the dishwasher, and used his peripheral vision to scan the room. His mind was not playing tricks. Someone was there.
Sarah’s slender, delicately curved figure was nothing short of heart pounding. The deepness and clarity of her aqua green eyes never failed to make Isaac short of breath, especially when she put that sultry look to them. And could she ever do that. Her long, naturally wavy hair was let down with one side over the front of her shoulder. It looked like she had taken the time to style it. Her feet were bare. Toned, sun-kissed legs ran all the way up to a black thong. The front piece of satin fabric was so tiny, it barely served a purpose.
A black silk camisole covered her firm, slightly upturned breasts. The fabric was thin, especially in the cool air. Twins had not damaged her body. She had worked hard to get back in shape, but what had once been a knockout figure was actually improved. Childbearing seemed to have put more of the right stuff in the right places. Her silhouette could make a man’s bones ache.
To complement the flowing curves, a flat stomach peeked from under her shirt, just above the hipbones. All her weight was on one leg. The other she had bent and pulled in close. Her arms were crossed, slightly higher than normal, elevating her ample cleavage.
Isaac was instantly back to when the whole evening began. “What got into you?”
She was close now, deeply invading his private space. She bent her knees and ran the satin thong up his lean, rigid thigh. Her pelvic bone pressed into his muscle as the fabric glided along oh so smoothly.
“The same thing that’s been into me all night. Waiting for you to get home.”
He dried his hands quickly on a dishtowel and placed them on her exposed cheeks.
“They’re warm.” She slid herself up and down his leg another time. His hands moved with her all the way. “It feels good.”
“I would have taken it before dinner, but I do believe this was worth waiting for.”
“I told you it would be.”
He grabbed the string of her thong and pulled closer. His leg was between hers. She leaned in with her lower body and back with her upper. The silk-covered mounds pointed directly at his face. He explored the generously presented forms. They had been married for nine years, and it never got old.
“You want to come back here with me?”
“If I say yes, will I sound too easy?”
She shook her head and slowly took his hand. If she was yin, he was yang. She was so smooth and delicate, but not fragile. Isaac, on the contrary, was ruggedly refined. He was well groomed, but had an edge, a roughness to his dark features and olive skin. His eyes were black, fiery, and comforting all in the same.
She led him down the hallw
ay to their bedroom. He watched as the slender string of satin slipped up and down between the cheeks of her firm derriere. Each musical swing of her hips fueled his overwhelming desire.
It was the beginning of a long, long night.
Chapter Four
At two o’clock on Saturday morning, Ricky Doors backed his white van into concealment, put it in park, and killed the engine. Kenneth and Joan Howard’s empty carport was perfectly located, adjacent to the Snow’s, assisting in his next kidnappings.
He was not aware of the Howard’s taste for traveling. He was, however, aware that they had left on the rainy Friday morning with two large suitcases. People didn’t pack that much if they were planning to return the same day. It made for the perfect staging ground.
He slipped into the cargo area and prepared for the task ahead. He had rehearsed the sequence of events in his mind to the point of memorization. Now it was down to action. He dampened a handkerchief with a concoction of homemade chloroform. The Internet was so useful. Information truly was a keystroke away, making the obscure ordinary. He sealed the elixir in a Ziploc and stashed it in his back pocket. Two eight-inch pieces of duct tape were torn from a roll and stuck to the thigh of his loosely fitting black jeans.
His long-sleeved T-shirt matched the pants. A pair of thin, leather gloves protected his fingerprints from being left behind, and a black, knitted ski mask disguised his face. Even with the mask, his peaceful-looking eyes appeared innocent. The watery blue irises shone tranquil, but really, they were swirling pools of greed and malevolence draining into the depths of a twisted mind. Since childhood, he was known as the boy with the baby blues. The camouflage served him well.
With everything set, he was ready to go. He had removed the lightbulbs from all dome fixtures inside the van. Nothing could blow his cover like a yellow glow in the middle of a black night. Light showed the truth. Blackness, on the other hand, cloaked and offered assistance to deception. And deception was not just a hobby for Ricky Doors. It was life.
First Night of Summer Page 2