by E B Corbin
It became Sam’s turn to choke. She didn’t manage to cover it as well as Henry,
Stacy jumped up. “Are you all right? Do you need a glass of water?”
“No, no. I’m fine. Just swallowed wrong.” Sam patted her chest and managed to get her cough under control.
“Okay, if you’re certain.” Stacy sat down with a concerned look. She glanced at the computer monitor and shuffled some papers on the desk. Her words and expression conveyed a caring attitude but still somehow came across as insincere. “Now, what were we talking about?”
She turned her gaze to Henry. “Oh, yes, resale value . . . I think that in this market either would work. Of course, in the Pearl District it’s mostly two-bedroom condos in your price range. Why don’t we start there and take a look at what’s available?”
“Sound good,” Sam croaked.
“Are you sure I can’t get you some water?” Another disingenuous offer.
Sam shook her head. She didn’t dare look at Henry for fear she would burst out laughing and give away their ruse. She muttered into her hand. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“We can take my car and I’ll bring you back here after. Where are you staying?” Stacy wrapped a cloth purse over her shoulder.
“In an apartment downtown. We hope it’s only temporary.” Henry smiled and offered Sam a hand to stand. Her impulse was to ignore him but she didn’t want give Stacy reason to doubt their sincerity.
As they filed out, a tingling sensation started in Henry’s stomach and a low buzzing began in his head. He’d felt the same way in the Seals when a mission was about to go bad.
Chapter Four
They spent the rest of the morning walking through condos in the Pearl District. Sam tried hard to focus and ask the right questions as they toured each unit. Her mind strayed, though, and every chance she got Sam questioned Stacy about Norman.
Stacy seemed reluctant to talk about anything not related to the condos they were touring. Every time Sam pressed for more information on Stacy’s family situation, Henry squeezed her arm in warning. She shook him off.
Finally, after showing them four condos, Stacy suggested they stop for lunch. Sam eagerly agreed, hoping to turn the conversation to more personal topics. She did not remember one distinctive characteristic about any of the places they’d seen. Even at over a million dollars, they were cookie-cutter examples of new construction to her.
If Sam truly needed a place to live, she would not choose any of the generic examples they’d seen so far. She’d given up the front passenger seat to Henry after the second condo tour when she realized he showed more enthusiasm than her. She assumed his interest was bogus but she found it a bit difficult to get a handle on him.
The realtor related to Henry better. No surprise. She was a woman, and no matter what their age, her assistant impressed them. Sam wished Henry would stop the small talk about the size of rooms and ask a personal question. Lord knows, she was getting nowhere in her attempts to uncover Stacy’s frame of mind as far as her father was concerned. Maybe Henry could do better if he would just take the hint.
When they pulled up to Elephant’s Delicatessen, Stacy led them inside. Several different glass-enclosed counters offered different varieties of food from cheeses to prepared foods to soup, pastries, and more. Plain wooden tables filled with hungry customers were spaced along wide-plank floors.
Sam picked up a salad from a selection in a cold case while Henry walked around perusing every available option until he settled on a half pint of tomato orange soup and chicken pot pie. The chicken dish was a favorite of his when he was growing up but he seldom had a chance to enjoy it. His mother preferred takeout or something prepared by their housekeeper, when they could afford a person to clean, cook, and wash the clothes. After his father lost all their money, it was mostly takeout.
Henry’s mother was not one to step up and fill in any slack. His sister, Vicki, took on cooking but she always preferred vegetarian foods. Henry didn’t mind them, but he still enjoyed a little meat from time to time. Now he dug into the creamy chicken-based pie with gusto.
The crust looked flaky and delicious. The aroma of warm chicken, blended with carrots, potatoes, and a rich creamy sauce made Sam wish she had ordered something other than a plain salad. As she watched Stacy devour a fish sandwich, fries, and a pickle spear, she took another bite of arugula, tomato, and garbanzo beans and told herself it was for the best.
Sam wiped her mouth. “So, Stacy, are you married?”
Stacy swallowed a bite of her sandwich. “No, never been.”
“You prefer the single life?”
Stacy gave a half-nod as she chewed a fry.
“Do you like Portland?” Sam tried another topic.
“Only place I know.” Stacy took a bite of fish.
“Have you owned Bledsoe’s Real Estate very long”
“Not mine. It belongs to my father.” Another swallow and a new bite.
Sam hoped sooner or later she would get a longer answer from Stacy. At least she was moving in the right direction. “Do you enjoy working with your father?”
Stacy began to raise her sandwich to her mouth but stopped, looked at it and set it down. “Sometimes it’s difficult but we manage.”
Sam kicked Henry under the table. She wanted him to jump into the conversation so she didn’t sound like the bad cop in an interrogation. Henry did not look up from his chicken pot pie but moved his leg so she couldn’t reach it. He wished she would let things slide for now. It wasn’t the right time. Stacy wasn’t ready to confide in them but he felt certain she would open up when she felt comfortable with them. He saw no point in pushing her.
For her part, Sam wanted to strangle him but kept a smile on her face. Why didn’t he at least try to join in the conversation? She threw him a dirty look when Stacy lowered her head to push the huge piece of fish back into the bun. “What does your mother think about the two of you working together?”
“Mother’s dead.” Stacy’s head remained down, with her attention on her plate of food.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sam fell silent, pushing what was left of her rabbit food around the bowl. With no help from Henry, she might as well give up this line of questioning. She’d have to rely on her gut feelings about Stacy since the short answers from the woman indicated getting a better understanding of her was not possible.
When they had finished their meal, they changed emphasis to Cedar Hill and started out for an afternoon of house hunting that made Sam want to pull out her hair. Her idea to pose as a couple seeking a home was turning into a nightmare. She had a minute alone with Henry as Stacy locked up one more garden-variety example of suburban living. She used the opportunity to push him to help dig into Stacy’s psyche since her repeated attempts were getting them nowhere. “We’re a team, Henry. You need to help me find out what she’s like as a person, not a realtor.”
“I’ll do my best, but you need to be patient. If we ask too many questions right up front, we could lose her trust.” Henry whispered into her ear as he turned his head to make it appear that he was giving her an affectionate kiss. “You need to loosen up.”
“Easy for you to say,” Sam whispered back as she pulled away from his embrace. “You’re not bored to death in the back seat of a ten-year-old Volvo.”
“No, I’m faking an interest in room decor and the number of bathrooms in a place.” Henry’s face lit up in an artificial smile as he gave her a hug. “The least you can do is help me impersonate a happily married couple.”
Sam sighed. “God, the next time I come up with a scenario that we’re any kind of a couple, just shoot me!”
Henry laughed. “Let’s get in the car. Stacy’s not looking real happy.”
They were on their way to the last viewing of the day taking a shortcut on a narrow road bordering a small lake when the buzzing began in Henry’s head again, growing louder by the second.
A black van roared up behind them. They could see houses in the d
istance but the area they were in was a protected sanctuary. No homes or buildings of any kind, just trees, rocks, and the lake.
Stacy glanced in the rearview mirror several times, worry growing on her face. “That van’s way too close. Why doesn’t it go around?”
Sam twisted to look out the rear. The van was almost riding their bumper. “Idiots.”
Then the van locked bumpers with the Volvo.
“Oh, dear!” Stacy muttered as the van rammed into the rear of her car. The section of blacktop they were on left nowhere to pull off. The water from the lake lapped on one side and trees and boulders crowded the lane on the other. Stacy’s knuckles turned white as she held on to the steering wheel with a death grip.
“Step on the gas!” Henry ordered as he shifted in the front seat to better catch a glimpse of their attacker.
Sam unlatched her seatbelt and did the same. “The van has tinted glass. I can’t see a thing.”
“That’s the idea,” Henry watched the van slow down then speed up to knock into their bumper again.
“Oh, oh …” Stacy’s head flew forward and snapped back as she struggled to keep her car on the road. Her panicked attempt caused the car to swerve dangerously close to the edge of the lake.
“Steer into the trees across the road,” Henry ordered.
“We’ll be killed!” Stacy cried.
“Aim for between the tree trunks. There’s enough room.” Sam called from the back seat as she braced one hand on the door. She fumbled in her purse for her gun just in case. It would be a last resort if things got worse. Stacy didn’t need to think they were gun-toting hotheads.
“I can’t do it!” Tears streamed down Stacy’s face as she ignored Sam and Henry’s instructions.
Henry scanned the area in front of them through the windshield. “Up ahead, there’s a small beach on our side. Pull into that.”
“What if they follow? Why are they doing this?” Stacy gripped the wheel even though her hands shook and the Volvo swerved back and forth like a bumper car at an amusement park. The realtor barely maintained control of the vehicle. “Oh, my . . . oh, my …”
As the van sped up for another attack, Sam rolled down her window. “Okay, they asked for it.”
She stuck her head out far enough to get a clear line of sight and fired one shot into the air as a warning. The van dropped back. With the Volvo swerving all over the road, she hoped she didn’t put a bullet in the driver’s head, by accident.
Sam was about to pull her head back when she saw a hand, holding what looked like a big gun, reach out from the van’s passenger side window. ‘“Duck!” she yelled to Henry hoping Stacy had enough sense to keep her eyes on the road.
She should have known better. Stacy ducked, too, but kept her foot on the gas so the car picked up speed. Not able to see where they were going, Stacy jerked the wheels until they bounced to the side nearest the lake. The tires became mired in mud and stopped the car before it could roll into the water.
Hoping the bozos in the van were satisfied that they ran them off the road, Sam relaxed for a second. When the van slowed on the road, Sam saw the evil glint in the eye of the passenger as he raised his gun to shoot again.
She had learned how to shoot when she was eight from her uncle in Albuquerque and she could have put a bullet through the right ear of the guy in the van since she was a crack shot, but that seemed like overkill for road rage. Then again, the inhabitants of the van needed to be taught a lesson. She aimed for the passenger door, knowing the metal would stop the bullet from the small .38 she routinely carried in her purse.
Before she took aim, Henry whipped open his door, jumped into the mud and rested both arms against the roof of the Volvo, his 9 mm pointed at the van. He fired three shots in quick succession. The van picked up speed and disappeared around a bend in the road.
Henry eased back into the passenger seat and sat on the edge, his feet resting in the mud, staring at his caked boots. “What the hell was that all about?”
Stacy’s eyes turned into saucers in her bloodless face. “Oh my goodness! Who are you people? What are you doing with those guns? If you’re planning to rob me, I don’t have much money.” She began to fumble in her purse and came out with a crumpled ten-dollar bill. “Here! That’s all I have, please don’t hurt me.”
“Relax,” Sam kept her voice low, hoping to calm the agitated woman. “I always carry a gun. It’s a habit. I used to be with the FBI.”
“FBI?” Stacy’s voice squeaked.
Henry kicked as much mud as he could off his boots before he swung around to face Stacy. “She’s telling the truth.”
“What about you? Are you her partner or something?”
Henry gave Stacy a reassuring smile and glanced in the rear seat. When was Sam going to come clean and admit what they were really doing? It wasn’t his place to make that decision. But he was growing tired of the deception.
He caught an almost imperceptible shake of Sam’s head. So she wasn’t ready to tell the truth yet. He considered going against his boss’s wishes and blurting the facts to Stacy but a sense of loyalty to Sam held him back.
The realtor’s voice shook with unvarnished fear. “Why were those people shooting at you? I can’t . . .”
Sam cut her off. “They might have been shooting at you, not us.”
“You were with the FBI, people probably shoot at you all the time.”
“Not exactly,” Sam said. “It doesn’t happen as often as you see it in the movies or on TV.”
“People never shoot at me,” Stacy mumbled.
“It could have been two hotheads out for a joyride.” Henry patted Stacy’s hand where it gripped the steering wheel.
“I . . . you . . .” Stacy could barely get the words out. “I . . . don’t think . . . don’t think I can continue . . . to work with you. It’s . . . it’s too dangerous!”
“Take it easy. Calm down.” Sam patted Stacy’s shoulder over the seat. “I think Henry’s right. Probably just two morons looking for trouble.”
Stacy swallowed hard three times. Her head rotated from Henry to Sam. “No . . . it’s too much. You’ll have to find someone else to show you houses. I can’t do it.”
“But you’ve already shown us several places. What if we decide on one of those? Don’t you think you deserve the commission?” Sam tried to keep the woman’s attention away from Henry who continued to scan the roadway for any additional threat.
“I don’t care about the money,” Stacy cried. “I just want to go home!”
“Well, we need to get out of this mud bog first,” Sam said. “Try rocking the car to break free.”
“What?” Stacy’s panic subsided slightly. “Rock it? I don’t know how to do that.”
Sam turned to Henry. “You do it.”
Henry gave up his scrutiny of the road and turned his attention back to them. The buzzing in his head had lessened but remained a slow and steady beat. “I think we’re in too deep, but I’ll give it a try.”
“Stacy, why don’t you get out and slip into the backseat. I’ll get out to get a better view to see if it’s working.” Sam opened her door and groaned to herself as she stepped into the oozing silt surrounding the Volvo.
The realtor hesitated, but at Henry’s urging, she grabbed her purse, hugging it to her chest and pushed on the door.
With Henry in the driver’s seat the car rocked forward, then backward several times. Sam divided her attention between watching the road and the progress of the car. The Volvo sank deeper into the muck with each spin of its wheels. “It’s not working,” Sam called. “We’ll have to phone for a tow truck.”
Henry stepped out to check the results of their attempt to break free. He saw the tires were now embedded past the rims. When he pulled out his phone, he only had one bar. “Do you have a better signal?”
“Keeps changing from one to three bars,” Sam said. “Where are we?”
“Damned if I know,” Henry said. He leaned into the rear se
at. “Stacy, do you know where we are?”
Though her voice still sounded unsteady, Stacy was regaining some confidence. “We’re on Lake Creek Drive, southwest corner, not far from the Manor House.”
When he located a towing service, Henry relayed the information to the dispatcher and hung up when the person on the other end seemed to know exactly the spot. He swiped his hands through his hair. The buzzing remained. “They’ll be here in thirty minutes. I don’t think we should wait in the car in case those yahoos decide to come back.”
“I agree.” Sam scanned the area. “Across the road, I think I see some flat boulders. We can wait there.”
Henry helped Stacy from the car while Sam crossed the lane. When they were situated on three stones, Stacy whimpered and rocked to and fro. Sam seethed and fought an internal battle to keep her thoughts to herself, while Henry leaned on his elbow seemingly at ease while wishing the buzz would stop. Silence reigned for the next half hour.
When the tow truck arrived, the driver scowled at the Volvo’s position. “I’ll need some help attaching the cable.”
Between the driver and Henry, they had the car back on solid ground in twenty minutes. The Volvo, however, decided not to start.
“Looks like I’ll have to take it in to the shop,” the driver said.
Stacy had been pacing along the road and moaning every time the cables snapped. “What about us? You can’t leave us here.”
The driver rubbed his chin. “I suppose I can take one of you to the gas station on the main road. You can call an Uber from there.”
As long as the buzzing remained, Henry would not leave Sam with Stacy in the growing darkness. “Why can’t you take us all?”
The driver made a gesture toward the truck. “Only got the one bench seat. It’ll be tight.”
“My, uh, wife can sit on my lap. It’s not far, is it?”
“Nah, about a ten-minute ride.” The man shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”
“What about me?” Stacy whined. “You can’t leave me here by myself.”