by A. J. Norris
The killer stumbled over a small fallen dead tree in his path. He caught himself before face-planting. He had walked so long, his feet hurt and his mouth was dry. Coming in from the woods, the killer found the cabin’s driveway and followed it toward the tiny A-frame cottage. He entered through the window again, since he continued to leave the door locked. Without a key, he didn’t trust that someone might not wander into the place and find the money he stole from the vending machines under the mattress. After all, he had “wandered” in himself.
He left the window open and ran into the bedroom.
What the fuck?
A black leather duffle bag sat in the middle of the bed. Someone was here. Thinking back to Brayden’s party, Mikey had mentioned a spring trip up north to Natalie’s cabin. It explained the Harry Hunter sighting. How unbelievably bad was his luck? Was this really fucking happening right now?
“Fuck!” He threw the mattress off the box spring. It banged into the bifold closet doors. The killer grabbed the block of bills wrapped in a white plastic bag and picked up the shotgun hidden on the floor next to the bed, the side closest to the wall.
His ears perked to the sound of voices on the porch. He sidled up to the only window on that side of the house, cut into and then recessed in from the slanted roof. The damn thing was stuck shut. Weighing his options, the killer had only one that was viable. He cocked the gun and left the bedroom.
CHAPTER
FORTY-FOUR
Mikey
Mikey joined Grace over at Natalie’s house after work for some homemade soup. Four bowls of hearty chicken noodle later, his stomach readied for an explosion.
He pushed his dish away from him. “I can’t eat any more.”
He glanced at the clock on the microwave above the stove. 7:30 PM. Remembering that he’d left the ringer off on his phone, he dug it out of his leather jacket slung over the back of his chair. No missed calls or messages from his son. Natalie told him the boys had made it safely up north, except that was hours ago. He called Brayden.
Five rings later, the kid still hadn’t answered. The voice mail prompt greeted him. Mikey redialed, only to get voice mail again. This time he left a message. “He’s not answering. How’s the reception up there?”
“Fine,” Natalie said. “They built a new tower in the area a few years ago. I’ll call Harry. He was supposed to call me back anyway.” Natalie tapped on her phone’s screen then put it up to her ear. Her frown deepened with each passing second. “He’s not answering either.”
“Does anyone know Cedric’s number?”
A smile perked the corner of Natalie’s mouth. “Why? Did he go with them?”
“Yeah,” Mikey said.
“I’m not sure the man even has a cell phone to tell you the truth. And if he does, I’ve never seen him use it.”
“Try calling Brayden again,” Grace said.
He followed her suggestion, willing his son to answer. Grace sat next to him wringing her hands. He reached out and she clasped his hand. Voice mail answered again. Mikey leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Tell me this is a lack-of-signal problem.”
“Harry’s not answering either.” Natalie said, concern marking her features.
“That’s not like him, especially with Natalie pregnant. He’d be on high alert if she called,” Grace interjected.
“He answered right away earlier.”
Mikey jumped when his phone went off. “Hello!” he answered without checking the caller ID. “Bray?”
“No, sorry. This is Al—Cam. Is everything all right, you sound—”
“Cam? Why the hell are you calling me right now?”
“Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be involving you. I’m looking for Hunter, he’s not answering his phone.”
“Probably because he doesn’t want to talk to you, like I don’t. You quit, remember?”
“Leave of absence. It was out of my control. You gonna tell me where his is, or not?”
Grace held her hand out for the phone. “Let me talk to him.”
“Uh uh. What for?” Mikey said, answering Cam.
“Mikey, this is important. I need to find him right away.”
“I don’t know where he is at the moment.” Okay, he’d lied, but for Christ’s sake he needed to keep his line free. Mikey ended the call and tried reaching Brayden again. Still no answer and the phone went straight to voice mail this time.
The doorbell rang and Mikey’s chest split. The pain piercing enough, he glanced down, half expecting to see a gaping hole. Whoever was on the other side of the front door had started banging on it. All three of them rushed to the door, Mikey beating the women there. He swung the door open. Cam stood on other side of the screen door. His hair had been cut short and his usual scruffy face was clean-shaven.
What the hell? “How did you find me?” Mikey bit out.
“Who is it?” Natalie asked from behind Mikey.
“Cam. Grace, call the poli—”
“I am the police,” Cam said. “Well, ATF. I need to find Harry. I owe him an apology and I need his help. Eric Lund is on the lam.”
“You mean your uncle?” Grace asked incredulously.
Cam shook his head. “He’s very dangerous. He was last seen at a restaurant not too far from the McGregor cabin. The Nifty Chef.”
“How do you know about my place up north?” Natalie asked.
“We know everything about you and your family, ma’am.” Cam opened his blue nylon coat, revealing a black bullet-proof vest and a blue and gold shield that read, ‘Department of Justice ATF U.S. Special Agent’. He also sported a thigh holster on his right leg.
“They’re at the cabin. My dad, Brayden, and Cedric,” Grace gushed. “Oh God, do you think your uncle knows?”
“He’s not my uncle. I’ve been undercover on and off for a few years, watching the asshole, waiting for him to fuck up.”
“What did he do?” Grace asked.
“He’s a murderer,” Mikey said.
“That and a serial arsonist. When women started getting killed in Webster, he came back on our radar. We needed to move slowly on this one. He covers his tracks well. He enjoys the thrill he gets from seeing women suffer. Likes the fear in their eyes.” He spoke directly to Mikey, “I think he was jonesing the night he ran Grace off the road. I’d been following him, that’s how I was there so quickly.” Cam made a phone call. “This is Special Agent Alex Kingswood…yes, sir, the McGregor cabin is of interest. Three civilians, two adult males, one Caucasian, one African American, one child, Caucasian…yes, sir.” He hung up. “Come on, we need to be at Webster Air/Helo in twenty.”
Mikey choked back bile.
CHAPTER
FORTY-FIVE
Harry
Brayden thanked Harry again for the bringing him up north. “Canoeing was a lot of fun.”
“What was the best part for you?” Harry asked as they stepped onto the porch.
“Um, how quiet it is. The only thing you could hear was the water dripping off the paddles.”
“Very true. There’s serenity in that, isn’t there?”
“I don’t know about serenity, but it’s definitely peaceful.”
Harry chuckled. For about five minutes, he had forgotten about the case stolen from him and Natalie needing to “talk” later. The rest of the time they spent canoeing, his mind raced through all the facts of the case, the conversations he’d had with Cam, and Grace’s near death experience in her car. She could have been killed by some asshole. The killer. He still wasn’t convinced it wasn’t Cam. Except with the ATF and FBI looking for Eric Lund, Harry doubted himself. How could they be that wrong? Unless they weren’t…
Leaving the door unlocked was something Harry never did. He took the keys out of his pocket and turned the deadbolt. The cylinder rotated, clicking the pins into place, sounding louder than usual. There was no reason for Harry to think this, however with the missing glass from the gun cabinet, and the bedding being left out,
perhaps they had a squatter.
“Brayden, get behind me.”
“Okay, why?”
“Just do it. Please.” Harry pushed the door open.
Schklikt klikt!
“Get down!” Harry shouted. Eric rushed out of the bedroom with a shotgun pointed in their direction. He sensed Brayden at his back, unable to move. His own brain was also trying to play catch up to what was happening. All he knew was he needed to keep Brayden protected. At the moment, there was nothing else more important, not even his own life. He didn’t want to die, but he wanted Brayden to survive more.
“Git down on the floor!” Eric yelled.
Harry put his hands up, bent at the elbows. “Easy, man.”
“Anyone else with you?”
“No. Just me and the kid.” He slowly lowered himself to the floor, telling Brayden to do the same.
“Where’s your car, how did you get here?” Eric rambled.
Damn, the man was sharper than he would have thought. “In town, with my guy.”
“Is he coming back? I don’t like surprises.”
“Yes. I dunno when though.”
Eric stepped closer, adjusting the barrel of the gun lower. “You lying to me?”
Brayden ducked his head, covering his ears while he knelt on the floor. He whimpered.
“No, he’s been gone a while. He didn’t say how long he’d be gone,” Harry said, hoping Cedric wasn’t on his way back now.
“Got any weapons on you?”
“No.”
Eric snorted. “A cop without a gun. That was stupid. Very, very stupid.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Harry, shhh,” Brayden whispered, shaking his head.
“It’s okay, everything is going to be all right,” he whispered back.
“Is it, Detective? Is it going to be all right? I wouldn’t tell the boy lies if I were you.”
Harry glanced around his immediate area. Nothing he could use as a weapon stood out to him. The gun cabinet was too far away and the other shotgun was probably unloaded anyway. He still had the keys concealed in his hand though. Great, he could gouge the fucker’s eyes out in the unlikely event he got close enough.
“How did you know about this place?” Harry asked.
Eric narrowed his eyes. “What’s it to you?”
“Call it curiosity.”
“Stop trying to negotiate with me.”
“Is that what I’m doing? I only want to understand you, that’s all. Maybe I’d like to get to know you better.” Brayden inched closer to Harry.
“Yeah, you like that, don’t ya? Got real cozy with Cam.” Eric lowered the shotgun. Asshole probably thought it was rifle.
“I’d hardly call an interrogation cozy.”
“What he tell you?
“What didn’t he tell me?”
“He didn’t tell you anything about me.”
“He told me plenty, like how you guys killed a woman and set that warehouse on fire to cover it up out in California.”
“Pfft. He wishes he was in on it. He’s obsessed with everything I do.”
“He looks up to you.”
“He didn’t have anything to do with that, that was all me.”
“You’re proud of your work.”
“If he told you all that, why didn’t you arrest him or have him extradited?”
“He disappeared, didn’t he?”
“Quit fucking with me.”
“I’m not. We’re talking, getting to know—”
“Shut up!”
Brayden buried his head into the back of Harry’s shoulder. His body quivered as he cried silently. Harry craned his neck and judged the distance between them and the open door. Ten feet. Maybe. When he turned back, Eric was staring at him. The asshole marched to the door and slammed it shut.
Shit!
Brayden jumped and leaned in even closer to Harry. “It’s okay, he just closed the door, that’s all.” The effort to calm the kid’s fear was futile. He tried anyway though.
Eric grabbed the lightweight armchair and positioned it facing them. He sat on the edge of the seat and laid the shotgun across his lap. Every couple of minutes, the asshole picked up the gun, aimed it at Harry then Brayden. His hands would shake and he’d lower it again. This happened so many times Brayden became less tense. Braver. Harry loved the kid. If anything happened to him…He was so smart and kind…no, nothing was happening to him. Harry wouldn’t allow it. He made a decision. Natalie and his baby would grow up without a father, but Grace would be there and Brayden would get the chance to be an adult, to fall in love, have a family of his own one—
“Why are you doing this, Ned? I’m just a kid and Harry’s girlfriend is pregnant,” Brayden said.
Eric stood abruptly, the gun clutched in both hands. He shook it and put his back to them. Perfect, Harry motioned toward the door and mouthed “go!” to Brayden.
The kid shook his head. “Do you know what it’s like to grow up without a dad?”
Eric spun and glared at Brayden.
“I think your dad was around, maybe he was mean to you. But he must’ve have taught you right from—”
“Shut up, kid. You don’t know nothing about me and my pops.” Eric brought the gun up and tapped his forehead on the side.
Brayden was getting to him. Keep him talking, Harry thought.
“I can tell you don’t want to do this,” Brayden continued.
“Shut up.” Eric sat down, rocked back and forth, and stood again like the chair had caught fire.
“You don’t kill kids. Remember that time I talked to you about how my mom and dad didn’t get along? Remember what you said to me?”
Eric’s face flushed bright red. “Didn’t happen.”
“You made me feel better.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes.”
“No. Shut up!” Eric barked.
“You told me that sometimes people are poison for each other, it doesn’t make either one of them bad, only bad for each other.”
Harry always knew Brayden was a damn genius. Now he had proof. He kept Eric’s mind occupied, distracting him from paying attention to Harry.
A cell phone rang faintly. It took a few rings before Harry realized it was Brayden’s phone upstairs, still in his bag. Whatever trance Brayden had lulled him into vanished.
CHAPTER
FORTY-SIX
Brayden’s phone had rung six times in a row. Harry’s phone had rung about half as many times in his breast pocket until Eric made him take his jacket off. According to Harry’s phone, which lay on the floor with a now cracked screen several feet away, about two hours had passed since the last phone call from Natalie. Brayden’s phone had also stopped ringing about the same time.
Harry started wondering why Cedric hadn’t made it back to house yet. It was odd, even for him. He imagined he’d gone to the small liquor store/market at the corner of the highway and the road the cabin was off, then went a few miles further north into town. Well, there was a strip joint past the only stoplight and east of town. Harry had been dragged there a few times with Natalie’s ex-husband many years ago. He supposed it was still operating.
A strange sounding bird whistled. It sounded almost human. Eric looked out the kitchen window. Seemingly satisfied he sat down in the chair opposite them.
Another weird whistle resounded. Eric was out of the seat again, checking all the windows in the main area, keeping an eye on them. Not wanting to get his hopes up, Harry held his breath.
After a third whistle, Eric stopped in the middle of the room. “Come and get me!” he shouted. Except he didn’t lay down his weapon, he shot the kitchen window out, then stormed closer to the window and looked out. Harry leapt up. The last thing they needed was a shootout where Brayden got nailed. As soon as he heard the second coordinating whistle, he knew something had got their family’s attention. Was it the unanswered calls, coupled with the news reports about Eric Lund, which spurred them into
calling the police? Had Tina done what he’d instructed? Harry had been leery she wouldn’t.
Eric cocked the gun again and shot. This time someone on the outside returned fire with a single shot. The asshole ducked out of the way. The bullet missed him and hit the wall. Clearly, a warning. No sniper would have missed such an open shot. A helicopter flew overhead. Another shot from outside rang out. Eric’s split second of distraction allowed Harry the opportunity to tackle the perp from behind. He took them to the floor. “Run, Bray!”
They grappled for the shotgun, by some miracle or skill, Harry wasn’t exactly sure which one, he gained control of the weapon. With the gun in hand, he pushed himself away from Eric, although he remained on the floor. The sonofabitch didn’t.
Popping a butcher knife from a kitchen drawer, Eric came at him, bearing down on him. With his back up against the cabinet, Harry cocked the shotgun, sliding another shell into the chamber, banging his elbow. Eric grabbed the barrel and yanked at the same time Harry pulled the trigger. The shot missed.
Now Eric pointed the gun at him. Cocked and loaded. Ready. Aim…Harry squeezed his eyes closed. Knowing the Feds had surrounded the house and Brayden was safe, he thought of Natalie and hoped their baby looked like her if it was a girl. He loved Natalie. What he wouldn’t give to see her again just so he could tell her every day for the rest of his life. Why did it take dying to let go of your past?
BOOM!
CHAPTER
FORTY-SEVEN
Eric’s mouth fell open and his knees hit the floor, then he crumpled the rest of the way over. One second Harry was wishing his life wasn’t about to end, and the next the asshole was bleeding out next to him, panting with shallow, wheezy breaths.