After the Rain

by Philip Cox

  ‘But, what I don’t understand is,’ said Ben. ‘Stacey said you’re a computer nerd. Is that right? I assume it was you who got into his emails and deleted some. Why not just hack into his accounts and get the money that way?’

  ‘That dumb bitch has no idea. She’s so stupid she doesn’t know a hard drive from a mouse. Sure, I enjoy messing about with computers, and I managed to get into his email only because your brother had his password saved. There was no way I could have gotten into his bank account. I mean, don’t banks have firewalls and stuff?’

  ‘So that’s why you guys did it the old fashioned way?’

  ‘Yeah. We took your brother’s ID. Scott’s more or less the same size as your brother, and Stacey – well, she goes to drama school or something weekdays and she managed to get his hair to match your brother’s hair. Jared works at a bank.’

  ‘Yes, we know.’

  ‘So Scott and Jared drew the cash out.’

  Craig stood back. ‘One huge performance.’

  ‘Yeah. Jared said we had to do it that way. Said it was bound to come to light sooner or later, and the police or the bank’s people would want to look at the CCTV. So Stacey had to make Scott look like your brother. From a distance, anyway.’

  Craig rubbed his hands over his face. He looked down at Bobby. ‘Where’s my brother now?’

  ‘Billy would have gotten rid of him by now. Said he was going to, once all the money had gone.’

  ‘Or the accounts were frozen,’ said Ben, looking up at Craig. He turned back to Bobby. ‘How would he do that?’

  Bobby shrugged.

  ‘Stacey said something about having to wait until the heavy rains start,’ Ben said. ‘Before getting rid of any – anything.’

  ‘His brother’s body?’ Bobby laughed. ‘Sure, that was Billy’s little joke. Said someone had told him that once. Said if you dump something in the glades when the water level’s low, they fill up with gasses and stuff and float to the surface, especially if you don’t weigh them down much. But when it’s rained, and the water level’s much higher, the wildlife -’

  ‘Leave it,’ said Ben, concerned about Craig’s reaction. ‘Just tell us, where is this place Billy and Stacey are hiding out?’

  ‘You gotta be –’

  Bobby’s sentence was cut short by his agonizing scream as Craig put his foot on the injured leg. ‘No, stop him, please!’

  Craig took his foot off but left it hovering. ‘I won’t ask you again: where are they hiding?’

  Bobby clutched at his leg, whimpering. ‘I told you - go fuck yourself.’

  ‘Where are they?’ Craig repeated, raising his foot.

  ‘Wait! It’s an old house,’ Bobby was almost whispering. ‘It’s on the outskirts of the airport.’

  ‘Miami International?’ asked Craig in disbelief.

  ‘No, the old Opa Locka airport. Small municipal one. There were quite a few houses there, but over the years residents have moved away on account of the airport getting busier. This one’s been empty for years. Billy uses it when he needs to get down here. When he needs to lie low. It’s derelict in places.’

  ‘How do we get there?’

  Bobby pointed weakly back up to the main road. ‘Carry on that road the way we were going. The road goes under the 924, then goes past the airport, turn left at an old broken down church and go on a mile or two. The houses are there.’

  ‘You said houses. How do we know which one?’

  ‘There are some tall trees in front of the house. Long driveway up to the front porch. The front yard has some old statue in it.’

  ‘Anything else we need to know?’ Ben looked up at Craig.

  ‘Can’t think of anything. What are we going to do with this piece of shit? Leave him here?’

  ‘Tempting. No, we’ll call 911. Give me your phone,’ he said to Bobby.

  Looking slightly puzzled, Bobby reached into an inside pocket in his leather jacket and pulled out his phone. He passed it up to Ben.

  ‘What road’s this?’ Ben asked.

  ‘The old race track road,’ Bobby replied.

  Ben dialled 911 and made the call. He switched off the phone and put it in his pocket. Bobby held his hand out for it.

  ‘No, I’ll keep this. Not going to have you call your friends as soon as we set off. The ambulance’ll be here in fifteen minutes. Don’t go away.’

  Bobby muttered something under his breath and lay back down. Ben and Craig turned to walk away, then Ben turned round, and walked back to Bobby.

  ‘This is for the waterboarding,’ he said. ‘And the iron bar.’ He lifted his foot up above Bobby’s leg. Bobby screamed and held his arm out. Laughing, Ben took his foot away, and walked away, catching Craig up on the top of the incline. Saying nothing, they got back into the car, and drove away.

  They followed the directions Bobby had given them, and within twenty minutes, they were driving past the row of houses alongside the airport. They were all large, turn of the century properties. Most had seen better days, but some were still inhabited and were being maintained.

  ‘Although we took his phone,’ said Craig, ‘what’s to stop him calling them from the hospital?’

  ‘Unlikely. If the house is abandoned, it’s unlikely that the landline’s still connected. Sure, they’ll have their mobiles with them, but Bobby hasn’t got his. How likely is he to know any of their numbers? Surely they’ll be programmed in to his.’

  ‘Let’s hope so. Look - that’s the one,’ Craig pointed out as they drove slowly past. There were tall trees as the property adjoined the road. At the front of the house, in the middle of a neglected piece of grass,

  was an extremely tarnished bronze statue of an angel crouching on a rock. There were two bikes outside the front porch. They drove straight by.

  ‘Well,’ Ben said quietly. ‘Somebody’s in.’

  They pulled up about fifty yards further up the road. Ben turned off the engine and turned to Craig. ‘Well now,’ he said. ‘What next?’

  Chapter Forty-Five

  BEN TURNED ROUND in the car and looked up and down the street. There was not a soul about. The house outside which they had parked, five residences down from where they were headed, seemed empty, as did the one across the road. A car was parked outside a property five or six further down the road. ‘I guess we ought to call the police,’ he said.

  ‘What do you reckon?’ asked Craig. ‘Sanchez or the local ones? Remember where we are, now.’

  ‘Mm. That’s a point. It will have to be Sanchez. Or your friend McGee. Don’t want to call 911 again, and we don’t have a number for the locals. In any case, if we call Sanchez, she’ll know all the jurisdictional stuff. They’ll either come here themselves, or alert the local police. Or both.’

  ‘Well, I tell you what,’ Craig opened his door. ‘You call them. I need to take a leak.’ He got out of the car, looked around, and walked round the side of the tall hedge by which they had parked. Smiling wryly, Craig dialled Sanchez’s number.

  ‘Did you get hold of her?’ Craig asked, as he returned shortly. By now, Ben was standing nearside, by the car.

  ‘Yes, I did. She says to hold on until she gets there.’

  ‘Until she gets here? No McGee?’

  Ben considered a moment. ‘She said until I get there. I assumed she meant her and McGee. I guess she’s got no problem with jurisdiction.’

  ‘She’ll be a couple of hours at least.’

  ‘Yeah, she said that.’ He checked his watch. ‘So, by about three.’

  ‘I’m surprised. I would have thought she’d have to involve the locals.’

  ‘Perhaps she is. Unless she gets first dibs as she is handling Adam’s case.’

  ‘Or not, as the case may be. What else did she say?’

  ‘Just to stay put until she got here.’

  ‘So we just stay put for a couple of hours?’

  As if to answer the question, Ben locked the car. ‘No.’

  ‘What have you got in mind?�
��

  ‘Let’s have a look around.’

  Again checking up and down the deserted street, they carefully made their way towards the house.

  ‘We’d better not look too suspicious,’ Craig said quietly. ‘Some of these places are still occupied. We don’t want the police to come now because someone’s reported prowlers.’

  The house in question had a mailbox at the end of the driveway. Leaning at a forty-five degree angle, it reflected the state of the house itself: some of the wood slightly rotten and peeling paint. The box had the house number on the side: 13421. The 2 had fallen off, leaving a dirty outline of the number on the wood. Number 13425, the property next door, also looked empty. Looking around, and staying close to the bushes, they slowly made their way up this house’s driveway.

  They stopped momentarily as they heard the sound of a vehicle. Pushing themselves closer into the hedge, they watched the street as the sound got closer. A small white van marked Biscayne Bay Water Supplies Inc trundled slowly by. They heard it stop a moment later, then some doors opening and shut.

  ‘Sounds like a delivery,’ Ben whispered. Craig nodded.

  Two or three minutes later, the sounds of one door open and shut, the engine start again, a vehicle turning round; then the van trundled back the other way.

  ‘All clear?’ whispered Ben after a minute. Craig nodded again.

  They slowly made their way further up number 13425’s hedge. The hedge stopped about twelve to fifteen feet from the house itself, the boundary with 13421 being continued with a rotten wooden fence. Ben gently played with the wooden fence panels, and found a spot where one panel had gone completely. He crouched down and peered through the gap.

  ‘Any sign of anything?’ whispered Craig.

  ‘No, nothing,’ Ben replied softly. He put his hands on the panel next to the gap: it was loose. Grabbing it tightly, he slowly twisted it around until it snapped. The wood made a loud crack, and they looked at each other for a minute afterward, waiting for any reaction from the house. None came.

  Ben spoke first. ‘Whew. That was close.’ He looked down at the now larger gap in the fence. ‘Should be big enough for us to squeeze through.’ He lay down on the ground and wriggled through the gap in the fence. ‘All clear,’ he whispered through the gap, and helped Craig through. They both sat still for a moment.

  ‘Shit,’ said Craig. ‘Can you hear that?’

  Ben could hear nothing. ‘No, what?’

  ‘My stomach rumbling. We’ve not eaten today.’

  ‘I’d forgotten. Must be the adrenalin.’

  ‘You not hungry?’ Craig whispered.

  ‘I wasn’t. Thanks, pal.’

  Grinning, they both slowly stood up and moved carefully along this side of the fence. Where the fence reached the front of the house, there was a small passageway, about eighteen inches, maybe two feet wide down the side of the house. Looking back at Craig, Ben indicated that they should go down this passageway.

  ‘What are we going to do when we find something? Or someone?’ Craig asked quietly.

  Ben shrugged. ‘Play it by ear, I guess. It’s what – half one now? Sanchez and McGee should be here in ninety minutes or so. I just want to look around.’

  Moving further down the passageway, they paused about halfway down the side of the house. What looked like an air conditioning outlet was protruding from the wall, about ten feet above the ground. The air conditioning was not operating, but they could hear sounds coming from the outlet. Voices. They paused and listened. They could not hear what was being said, but could make out the low murmur or a conversation.

  Ben cocked his ear. ‘Definitely voices. And definitely a female voice in there, too.’

  ‘Must be Stacey,’ added Craig.

  ‘Yeah. Oh, shit,’ he muttered, diving into his pockets.

  ‘What is it?’

  Ben pulled out Bobby Chin’s phone. ‘I forgot to switch it off. If one of them ring or text him to ask where he is, we’re fucked.’ Breathing a sigh of relief, he switched the phone off and put it back in his pocket.

  ‘Better do the same with ours,’ said Craig. ‘Or put them on silent.’

  ‘Of course,’ Ben said. ‘How stupid.’

  Once they had set their phones to silent, they continued down the passageway. They could still hear the low voices from the air conditioning duct; the voices became clearer as they neared the back of the house, but still not clear enough to decipher what was being said.

  ‘Must be an open window at the back,’ Craig whispered. Ben nodded.

  Creeping right to the back of the house, they stopped at the corner. They could still hear the voices. Still unable to make out what was being said, now they could also hear footsteps walking backwards and forwards from inside the house, as if whoever it was, was pacing back and forth.

  Taking a deep breath, Ben darted his head round the corner and back, praying that the sound was coming through an open window, and not an open door with plain sight of the back.

  It was an open window. Ben took a deep breath, nodded at Craig, and, now crouching, they moved stealthily round the corner and stopped underneath the open window. Now they could hear the voices better. One of the voices – that of Billy Loomis – kept getting fainter and louder, fainter and louder: it was his footsteps they could hear pacing. From what Ben and Craig could make out, he was on the phone trying to call Bobby Chin.

  ‘Chin, it’s me again, you dumb sonofabitch. Call me back now, or get your ass down here like two hours ago.’

  Pulling a relieved face, Ben patted the pocket holding Bobby’s now switched off phone.

  ‘Where can he be, babe?’ It was Stacey’s voice. Again, Ben and Craig glanced at each other under the window.

  ‘How the fuck would I know?’ came the reply. Then the sound of some furniture being kicked over. ‘He’d better be here soon, otherwise…’ The sound of a TV being turned up.

  Ben cocked his head to one side, checking with Craig if they should go on. Craig nodded. Keeping low, they continued underneath the window, they stood up as they made their way to a door. Only the wire mesh screen was closed; the wooden door itself was open.

  This door must have led to the kitchen. They were just about to move closer to the doorway, when they heard footsteps again, getting louder and closer to the doorway. They both froze as the steps became louder. Then the steps stopped, and then came the sound of water being run out of a tap, filling a kettle or something.

  It sounded like somebody had filled the kettle and put it on a stove. The footsteps, slightly lighter than they had heard pacing just before, so Ben and Craig assumed Stacey’s, seemed to get quieter as she left the kitchen. Another phew, that was close.

  Ben turned round to Craig, and raised his eyebrows, as if to ask, shall we go on?

  Craig replied by way of a nod.

  They moved slowly towards the screen door. Ben slowly reached out to open it.

  It was then that Scott Maxwell came out.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  SCOTT WAS BACKING out of the door, lighting a cigarette. He did a double take when he saw Ben and Craig standing outside the door.

  Ben reacted quickly. While Scott was still staring open-mouthed, before he had time to utter a sound, Ben reached up, grabbed him by the arms, and pulled him off the slightly raised wooden steps, and flung him to the ground. Cigarette, lighter, and cigarette box flew over the steps. Scott hit the ground, and Craig was on top of him, covering his mouth.

  ‘We need to shut him up,’ Ben whispered urgently.

  Craig nodded, still struggling with Scott. The bigger man was now lying on his front, arching his back, and flailing his arms and legs around, trying to hit out at Craig, who was now squatting on his waist. He pulled a handkerchief out of Scott’s pocket and tried to ram it into his mouth. For his part, Scott was moving his head side to side violently to stop Craig.

  ‘We need something to tie him up, too,’ said Craig. ‘Or put him out.’

  Ben
quickly scanned the back yard. He needed something, and fast: Craig would not be able to keep Scott restrained for long, and somebody would soon hear their struggle.

  Too late: Scott managed somehow to push Craig off him. Pushing Craig to the ground on his back, he staggered to his feet, and shouted. ‘Billy! Quick! Out here!’

  Both Ben and Craig jumped on Scott, again pushing him to the ground. Ben picked up the handkerchief off the ground, and once more tried to gag him with it, while Craig held him down. Once he was gagged, they began to manhandle him away down the back yard.

  They heard a click from behind them. Nothing loud, just a faint click. It sounded threatening. Then a voice.

  ‘Just stop right there.’

  Pausing, they turned round and looked at Billy Loomis. He was standing in the doorway. In his right hand was a handgun, pointing right at them.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  ‘LET HIM GO, motherfuckers,’ Billy Loomis snarled, gesticulating with the gun.

  Their eyes fixed on the weapon, Ben and Craig slowly released Scott. He pulled the handkerchief from his mouth and spat on the ground. He turned to Craig, stepped closer so they were inches apart. ‘Faggot,’ he sneered, his face twitching as he kneed Craig in the groin. Clutching himself, Craig collapsed to the ground crying out.

  Then he turned to Ben. Ben knew what was coming, and tried to prepare himself, but could not. He took a deep breath.

  ‘Just a taster,’ Scott laughed, and punched Ben hard in the stomach. Gasping for air, Ben bent over double, holding his stomach. While he was still bent over Scott swung his fist and caught Ben hard on his left jaw. Ben joined Craig on the ground.

  Scott stepped forward to carry on. ‘Later,’ Billy Loomis called out. ‘You can have them later. Let’s get them indoors for now.’

  With a grunt, Scott roughly pulled Ben up by one arm, then did the same with Craig. ‘You heard the man. Get the fuck indoors.’ He pushed Craig in the back, and he and Ben staggered into the house. Billy moved further into the kitchen, and stood as they stumbled indoors, the gun still fixed on Ben and Craig.