by Leger, Lori
“Hey, Carrie,” the deep voice resounded over the line.
“Listen, I’m tired and I’m not feeling all that well. I’m going to take something to sleep and go to bed early. Poor Toto, I still can’t believe he’s gone.”
“Yeah, but you had to expect that with a dog his age.”
“I know, and those damn heart worms… I guess the excitement of a new place was too much for him.”
“I guess so. You sure you’re okay?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ll be fine, now that I have my phone back. The phone company said it was faulty wiring.”
“They replaced the wire rather than repaired it, right?”
“They said they did. You want to come over for breakfast in the morning?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good, I’ll see you then. Good night Sam.”
He watched through small slits in her blinds, as she walked around her house. By some twist of fate or fortune, they weren’t shut tight tonight. She walked right up to the window and stared out onto the street. No way could she see him in the dark. The thick cloud coverage obliterated any chance of moonlight illumination. It was the perfect night to take Carrie away from this place—away from him.
He listened in to her call with Sam, able to hear both ends of the conversation clearly with the wireless device he’d acquired recently. As simple as this mission was, he had no need for anything more high tech than this.
She ended the call and popped what looked like some kind of sleep aid medication before disappearing into her bedroom. No Sam, no kids, no shaggy white mutt to blow his cover—and she’s drugged? A frown tugged at his mouth. No challenge at all, actually, and a little too easy for his taste. He’d watch her sleep first. Play the game for a while before he let his urges overcome his will power. Only then would he allow himself to touch. Control. Possess. Tonight. He’d make her his tonight.
He reached into his pocket to feel the tools of his obsession. His zip pouch contained a few basics, plus a syringe full of Ketaset. He’d need her nice and quiet for transfer. All part of the plan, though he drew the line when it came to weapons. No guns or knives. A real soldier didn’t need weapons against civilians. He preferred to rely solely on his other strengths to make women succumb to his will.
He could hardly wait to see how Carrie, by far the strongest of any of his targets, would react to him. He knew she wouldn’t plead for her life, but would she show fear? Maybe at first, but then he’d see the one thing that separated her from the others—her determination not to show it.
Sleep, my girl, so I can wake you up. In my own way.
That Friday evening had all the signs of being a long, slow night on the job for Rob Ledoux. He sat at his desk, working, short-handed because of officers taking vacation leave. It was either take it before January 1st or lose it, but why did his people save it for the end of the year, every year, without fail? Being chief didn’t mean squat in a town the size of Gardiner, especially when seventy-five percent of your force was either taking vacation time or on sick leave.
Rob couldn’t fault Tim for calling in sick for the first time in a year. The man never took time off, never complained about the hours he worked. He was a model employee.
So, why can’t I get myself to like the son of a bitch?
That very morning he’d told Mona there were two things about Tim Hardin that irritated the hell out of him. First, he never cussed, not even the occasional damn or hell. He could handle it if the guy didn’t seem to look down his nose at anyone else who did. He shook his head, wondering for the six-hundredth time how a man who puffed his way through two packs of cigarettes a day didn’t cuss. Just didn’t seem natural.
Second, he printed everything. What the hell was wrong with longhand? It wasn’t even normal printing—it was neat, precise block letters that would have made Rob’s first grade teacher, Miss Madeline, do the eff-ing halleluiah dance. Regardless, it didn’t make Tim a bad employee, and he sure as hell couldn’t fire him for either of those things.
Rob stretched back in his chair, bored shitless. He glanced at his dispatcher. One year on the job, Henrietta was older than Rob by fifteen years and feisty as hell.
“Henri, did I get anything from Charlie Walker at Kenton P.D.? He called me at home today asking about a fax he sent. Something about a picture of a message scratched onto Carrie Jeansonne’s windshield. When I said I hadn’t seen any fax, he told me he’d resend it. I guess it got lost.”
Henrietta looked up from her romance novel of the week. “I put two faxes in the incoming tray. One is that picture you mentioned, but it’s the first I’ve seen of it.”
“I just checked, and there’s nothing but old payro—”
“The new, clear one I put on the wall.”
“The wall?”
“Yep, so it doesn’t get covered up from all the crap on that unnatural disaster you call a desk.”
Rob turned to the wall, spotted the tray and grunted. “I guess that is better.” He reached for the messages, scanned the message from Charlie. Info on the truck that almost hit the kids wasn’t much help. Gardiner was a farming community, full of trucks with that description. Hell, two of his officers drove them.
He threw the message on his desk and flipped the fax, a black and white picture. Rob leaned forward to get a better look, and then cussed up a blue streak that made his dispatcher come running.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?”
He pulled one particular personnel file and checked for comparisons, just to make sure he wasn’t jumping to conclusion. Rob’s gut clenched as he held the fax up to the neatly printed text on the original application and everything the man had touched since then. He ran quickly through the file. Army, Special Forces. Adept at hand to hand combat. Every reason he’d hired that man—suddenly a liability. A trained killer. “Son of a bitch!” He reached for his phone.
He checked his watch one last time. Eleven o’clock and no sign of movement anywhere in the quiet neighborhood. No cruiser tonight, no need to use a window. He crept silently to the door, knowing the unlit area and his dark clothing kept him hidden from sight. Once he’d lubricated the door’s hardware, he picked the lock and walked through the portal. His palms itched with anticipation as he took several steps toward Carrie’s bedroom. He paused, sensing their presence before he heard the warning.
“Hold it right there.”
He turned slowly, seeing two guns on him, and smiled, a little surprised to be out-maneuvered by a handful of small-town cops. He could kill them all—easily—far too easily—but that would risk blowing his cover. Luckily, he’d been the only one in the office when that fax came in. His reputation was pure as the conscience of a newborn baby. Nope, better to escape tonight and have a better shot at Carrie another night, even if it meant letting these fools live. A third man came out of Carrie’s bedroom, while someone from inside the room shut and locked the door. One by one, he stared them down, giving himself the time he needed to map his escape. “Never underestimate a small-town, redneck cop.” He didn’t worry about his voice, muffled by the full face mask.
“Face down on the floor with your hands behind your back,” one commanded.
He nodded slowly. “That’d be one option.”
“Don’t do anything stupi—” the man on the right began, just before the single kick dislocated his jaw.
He lunged through the door with two remaining officers hot on his trail, skidding to a halt as he saw two more officers blocking his path. He spun around and ran for the backyard, jumping the fence even as he heard Carrie’s command to something named Lucas.
He’d seen a Bull Mastiff once, a monster of an animal that outweighed most men. That dog may have been the largest he’d ever seen, but the one that came barreling out of nowhere and tackled him to the ground was a close second. The huge animal pinned him on his back in a split second, as two large, front paws, and a thick, heavy body covered his own. He froze, as sharp incisors pushed into skin, a
nd massive jaws covered his neck and jugular. He knew the dog held back just enough to prevent him from doing lethal damage. Regardless, as that beast emitted a low growl, one that sent vibrations rumbling through his throat and head, the man realized one thing. As a soldier, he’d fought the unseen evils and threats that lurked around every corner, but since becoming a man, he’d never really known fear—until now.
Carrie and Sam watched from the relative safety of her bedroom window. Spotlights flooded the area, revealing a man completely covered from head to toe in black. Doug walked slowly to where Lucas had the man pinned to the ground. “Good boy, Lucas,” Carrie murmured.
Doug commanded Lucas to “Hold,” as he pulled out his handcuffs in the slow, steady movements she’d told him to use. The four other officers circled with their guns, as he spoke to the dog. “Lucas, release,” Doug said to the dog. Nothing. “Lucas, let go, boy.” Lucas didn’t budge, but continued to hold the man’s throat, his rumbling growl low and menacing.
“He’s not listening to them, Sam.” Carrie pushed away from the open window and ran to the porch. She walked slowly down the steps and stopped. The men grew quiet, the only sound coming from the dog. “Are you ready?”
Doug nodded.
“Lucas. Release. Watch.” Her commands sharp and quick, the dog obeyed. He released his captive’s neck but stood on alert, only inches away, every muscle in his large body tensed and ready to recapture if the need arose—the ominous growl still dangerously present.
Doug rolled the man onto his stomach and handcuffed him. As he did he spoke slowly, his voice lowered an octave to keep Lucas from overreacting. “Don’t go doing anything stupid, because there’s not one of us here who can keep that dog off your ass.” He pulled the man’s wool mask from his face, before jerking him roughly up to his feet. He handed him off to two more men ready to walk him to the police cruiser pulling up to the front of the house.
Two steps from the cruiser, Carrie watched the man in black head butt one officer and jerk free.
Lucas bolted after the escapee, even as a second patrol car sped up to the scene.
Carrie’s scream cut through the night air followed by the screech of tires and the thud of automobile coming into contact with not one, but two living, breathing animals.
The car skidded to a halt, and everyone ran to where it had thrown the body—all the way to the intersection. Chief Charlie Walker jumped out of the cruiser. “They came out of nowhere!”
Carrie ran up to stand beside the man’s twisted body, searching the darkness. “Where’s my dog? Lucas!” Nobody said a word as flashlights pierced the black night, searching for the dog.
Carrie held her breath, listening, waiting for some sign that she hadn’t lost another member of her family. Her pleading call to him broke the silence. “Lucas. Come here boy, please!”
A faint, uneven cadence of paws hitting roadway and heavy panting had her pivoting toward the sound. Carrie ran to her limping dog, while every person there released a collective sigh.
The K-9 officer ran to meet her. “I need some light over here!” he called, dropping to his knees next to the dog. “Good boy.” He began feeling for breaks and other injuries.
“Please tell me he’s okay,” Carrie groaned.
“I’ll put him in my unit to bring him over to the local vet. He needs to give Lucas a good going over, but I believe your dog will be fine. It looks like the perp here got the brunt of the hit. I think Lucas only has a sprain.”
“I was coming to let y’all know this was no ordinary peeping tom,” Chief Walker said to the other officers. “His name’s Tim Hardin, and he’s an officer with Gardiner P.D. He’s ex-military, too.”
“He made a run for it, but if you hadn’t stopped him, I’m sure that dog would have. Looks like more than just his neck is broken.
“I sure as hell didn’t mean to do that,” Charlie admitted.
One of the other officers walked up holding a black zip pouch. “I found this on the road.”
Charlie Walker unzipped the pouch and gave a disgusted grunt. Carrie and Sam joined the others as Charlie spread the pouch wide enough for everyone to see.
A shiver ran through Carrie as she studied its contents—wire, rope, duct tape, hypodermic full of a clear substance, and regulation handcuffs.
Doug pointed to the pouch. “He’s done this sort of thing before.”
“I don’t think he planned on leaving here without her,” a second officer commented.
Heath brought the K-9 truck over and loaded Lucas inside. After convincing Carrie her dog would be fine with him, he left for an emergency meeting with the local veterinarian.
Carrie watched the truck drive away, turned to gaze at her stalker’s recently revealed face. “I know him. That’s Tim Hardin.”
Something else clicked about the oh-so-considerate house call, and she cursed under her breath. He’d stayed a while after she’d left the room to bathe. She could just imagine him sweet talking Christie, coaxing information from her about Carrie’s move to Kenton.
She shuddered, remembering his innocent flirtations with her sister. Dear God, he’d even seen and spoken to Max. Carrie’s stomach turned as an image flashed in her mind, one of Tim Hardin shaking her precious nephew’s hand.
Sam’s gut clenched at the sight before him. A cop. The guy was a cop. Sworn to serve and protect. Son of a bitch! Rather than being horrified by the man’s twisted, dead body, he felt nothing but intense relief. Finally, Carrie was safe. He turned to her, pulled her close enough to feel her violent trembling. “Come on, Babe. You don’t need to see any more of this.” He led her inside.
Ten minutes later, Carrie still convulsed in violent shivering, despite the mound of quilts piled on top of her. “Why am I s-st-still s-so c-c-cold?” She barely managed to speak through chattering teeth.
Sam went into her bathroom and came back with two aspirin and a glass of water. “Here, take these.” She did as she was told and lay back with a violent shiver. He stretched himself out alongside her in her bed and held her until the trembling lessened. Her breathing evened out, as an exhausted sleep finally took control of the situation. He left the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.
Sam spent the next hour making necessary phone calls to Carrie’s family members, Dave and the children first, then Elaine. Next, he called his family, then their co-workers. Exhausted, and sick at heart from telling and retelling the terrifying story, Sam walked outside for a dose of fresh air.
He stepped onto the front porch to check on Lucas. The vet had cleared the dog and sent him home, saying he’d recover from the sprain, his only injury. The Chesapeake sat there with his wrapped leg, vigilant as a great stone lion guarding the palace gates. He stared up at Sam with large, trusting brown eyes and thumped his tail at Sam’s approach.
“You did good, boy.” Sam reached out to scratch the beast’s large head, as man and dog watched the scene on the street unfold. The department finished taking their photos, freeing the coroner’s office to leave with the body. Sam followed the flash of lights until the vehicle turned at the highway and disappeared from his sight. After a few more minutes, the street cleared completely.
Sam took Lucas to the back porch, turned as Nick met up with him.
“How’s Carrie, Dad?”
“Sleeping. I don’t think she let herself think about how dangerous this whole mess was. God almighty, he came close.” Father and son talked a few minutes more before Nick stood up to leave.
“I’ll be here, Son. I don’t want her to wake up alone, but you’re welcome to stay and keep me company.”
Nick shook his head and stepped off the porch. “Naw, I’ll go on home.”
Sam went inside to lock up. He stared at the time on the microwave. Not even one a.m. He washed up in the bathroom before heading back to Carrie’s bed. Settling himself beside her, he lay on top of the quilts so that layers of fabric separated them. When the drop in temperature convinced him to get up for anoth
er blanket, a soft touch on his arm stopped him in his tracks.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I was just going to get an extra blanket.”
Carrie lifted the covers. “It’s warm under here.”
Sam did as he was told, snuggling up to her under the mound of quilts and bedspreads. “How you feeling? Better?”
“Yeah, I am. I don’t know what happened.”
“Probably a mild case of shock. You’ve been through a lot.”
She wiped at a stray tear with the palm of her hand and nodded. “But I didn’t have to go through any of it alone. It’s meant a lot to me that you’ve been here for me.”
He gave her a light kiss. “Glad to be of service.”
“How long have I been sleeping?”
“Not even two hours, not long enough.”
She struggled to rise from the bed. “I need to call my kids and my mom before they hear it from someone else.”
He placed a hand on shoulder. “I took care of it. They all said to tell you how proud they are of you and how much they love you. Grant and the girls will be here tomorrow morning, and your mom said she was glad to hear something before Kathleen Ledoux, for a change.”
She closed her eyes in exhaustion and sighed, too emotionally drained to see the humor. Her head fell heavily against the pillow. “Is Lucas okay?”
“He’s fine. He’s as happy as a bundle of one-dollar bills in a club full of pole dancers. That dog is famous, fed, and fast asleep on the back porch.” The heated gaze she sent him warmed him to his toes.
“You really do know how to take care of me, don’t you?”
His chest rumbled with laughter. “It’s a little difficult for me to do that when you’re doing such a fine job of taking care of yourself.” He fluffed her pillow and covered her with the extra blanket. “Try to sleep, hon. I’ll be here.”
She woke to low voices and a sudden knock on the side of the house. Carrie cracked one eye open, sensing she’d slept later than normal. Another knock, then another made her jerk upright in her bed and struggle to crawl out from under the mound of quilts and blankets.