“The bastards had to have a knife to get out of those zip-ties,” said Leslie as she descended from the porch, “And I doubt Rat had one stashed somewhere in his birthday suit so that left this dude. I figured he’d use it if he had a chance. Are you okay?”
Sandy nodded. “Just a little rattled and really pissed off. Is Dominique okay?”
“I haven’t asked yet but I think so,” Leslie replied, confirming Smokie was dead before yanking the bolt out of his chest. “Let’s go check on her then we have to get back to your place and end this thing.”
“What about him?” asked Sandy, still glaring at Smokie’s body.
“He’s not going anywhere,” said Leslie. “We’ll pick him up later. Come on.”
Chapter 23 – Saturday - 8:42 p.m.
“Okay, ladies,” Leslie announced as she and Sandy hurried through the woods, “We’re back on live so un-mute your phones. Dominique’s okay, still at the neighbour’s house and intent on using the gun I left her if she has to. Sandy and I are on our way. We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”
“I’m in the trees out front where you were before, Sandy,” was Josée’s response. “Cathy’s going to check the sliding doors to the den and I’m covering her in case someone comes out.”
“Be careful, Cathy,” Leslie cautioned as she and Sandy accelerated their pace. “I wish you’d wait until we’re back.”
“I’m just checking,” Cathy whispered from outside the den. She reached for the door, pushed on the handle and added. “It’s unlocked.”
“We’ll be there in two minutes,” said Leslie, breaking into a run.
“I’ll be inside,” Cathy replied then slid the door open and slipped out of Josée’s sight.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Leslie muttered but nobody responded.
* * * *
Convinced that someone was out there eliminating his crew, Butch had decided to do a security tour of the house upon leaving the bathroom. As he walked by the den, he noticed the voile curtain covering the patio door flutter as if in a sudden breeze. He stepped into the darkened room and moved past a large wall unit which housed some entertainment equipment, crouching beyond it to watch and wait. He knew the door had been shut earlier, having entered through it and closed it himself, but one of his crew might have since left the door ajar. However, this just might be whoever had been getting rid of his men attempting to come in and finish the job and, if this was the case, Butch had no intention of giving in without a fight.
He waited for a moment and was rewarded for his patience when he heard the door slide open a bit further and a silhouette appeared. The curtain was pushed aside and the intruder entered and crouched by the door. Butch was shocked, even angered to note it was a woman and adrenaline coursed through his veins as he anticipated making her pay for the trouble she had caused him.
He remained still, hoping she did not see him, as he wished to take her completely by surprise, though he had no qualms with simply shooting her if he was spotted. She remained where she was, motionless for a moment, during which time she gave the room no more than a cursory glance before rising to her feet and creeping toward the hallway. Reaching the arched doorway, she paused to peek around the corner while withdrawing a handgun from somewhere inside her denim jacket. With her back to him and her attention elsewhere, Butch rose and moved silently in on her.
* * * *
“Cathy, where the hell are you?” asked Leslie, she and Sandy having rejoined Josée behind the wall of conifers along the front of the Barry property.
“I can’t talk right now,” Cathy replied, her whisper barely audible.
“She’s in the den, right by the hallway,” Dominique informed them, having scanned the cameras to locate their friend. “I can barely see anything though, because it’s dark.”
“Cathy, please just stay put,” Leslie begged. “Find somewhere to hide until we move in. We just need to–”
“Oh, non,” Dominique’s voice cut in. “Cathy, look out!”
* * * *
As Cathy heard Dominique’s warning, her legs were kicked out from under her, sending her crashing to the hardwood floor. Pain flashed through her left arm as her elbow took the brunt of the fall and her pistol went skidding down the hallway, well out of reach. Immediately, her attacker was on her, dropping heavily with his knees onto her back as he rained blows to her head. Raising her arms to protect herself did not stop the animal who continued his volley for a moment before rising to his feet. After kicking at her torso a couple of times for good measure, he finally stepped back.
“Get up, bitch,” he ordered as he flicked on the light.
Sobbing and gasping for breath, Cathy attempted to get up on her hands and knees but the pain in her left arm sent a wave of dizziness and nausea coursing through her and she sprawled back to the floor.
“I said get up,” Butch growled, kicking her in the thigh.
Cathy retched then groaned, “I can’t. I think my arm is broken.”
Butch leaned down, grabbed her by the hair and yanked her to her feet before slamming her face first against the wall.
“Now you’re standing,” he said, pressing against her, one hand still clutching her hair, the other pushing the muzzle of his revolver against her neck. “Don’t make me have to help you up again, understand?”
Cathy nodded wordlessly, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Releasing her, Butch stepped back and asked, “Anything else on you like that gun you dropped?”
“Just my phone,” Cathy replied, “Top left pocket of my jacket.”
Butch slipped his hand over her shoulder, pulled the phone out and threw it into the far corner of the den.
“Not that I don’t trust you,” he said, “But I wanna make sure you didn’t forget about anything else.”
She tensed as he frisked her, cringing as his fingers strayed and groped a little too long on her breasts, buttocks and thighs but after a moment, he pulled away, the pat-down over.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
Cathy turned slowly, wincing in pain and maintaining contact with the wall for support. Staring up at him with anger and fear, she recognized him as Butch, the leader of the gang. She fought another wave of nausea as he looked her over, his eyes roaming down her body, a faint smile on his lips as he went.
“I think we’re gonna have some fun together,” he said, finally returning his gaze to hers, “But first, I wanna know more about you, get to know you a little better. Have a seat over there and you and me are gonna have a chat.”
* * * *
The others could still hear Cathy’s responses and her captor’s distant words so they were certain her earpiece had not yet been discovered.
“Cathy, we’re ending this call,” said Leslie. “Lose the earpiece if you can. Cooperate and say you’re alone. We’re on our way.”
She ended their conference call and set up another sans Cathy.
“I didn’t want her still linked up if he checks her phone,” she explained once the new call was established. “Dom, you’ll continue to be our secret eyes and you’re doing great, babe. The slightest thing you see that can help, you let us know.”
“Absolument,” Dominique acknowledged.
Leslie pulled out a sheet of paper and unfolded it, a rough sketch of the house she had drawn earlier, illuminating it with a penlight as Sandy and Josée crowded around her.
“As things stand now, here’s what we’re going to do,” she said and proceeded to explain her plan.
* * * *
As Cathy left the wall to move to the couch, she stumbled a little and raised her hands to her head.
“I’m a little dizzy,” she muttered, palming the Bluetooth device.
“Aww, you poor thing,” Butch replied before shoving her from behind, causing her to pitch forward onto the couch. “You shoulda minded your damned business and maybe you wouldn’t be so dizzy.”
She moved to the farthest end of the couch, cowering into th
e corner and managing to slip the earpiece out of sight behind a seat cushion. To her relief, her captor did not sit next to her but rather, pushed a centre table aside with his foot, clearing any obstacle between them then dropped into an armchair across from her.
“There, we’re nice and comfy so now we can chat. I’m Butch,” he said with a smile which quickly disappeared. “Now, who the fuck are you?”
“I-I’m Becky,” Cathy replied.
“Becky who?” Butch demanded.
“Becky Thatcher,” Cathy blurted the first thing which came to mind and hoped Butch wouldn’t catch her Twainian slip.
“Okay, Becky,” said Butch, “So what are you, a cop or something?”
“No, no, I’m not a cop,” Cathy stammered, her mind spinning as she tried to come up with a plausible story. “I-I work in security, that’s why I have a gun, but I’m not a cop.”
“Security, eh?” Butch pushed on. “What kinda security?”
“Uh, armoured transport,” Cathy replied. “I-I work for Brinks.”
Butch nodded in approval. “No shit. We’ll have to talk more about that later. You could maybe give me some inside tips and stuff. Hell, maybe we can work a job together, but for now, I wanna know what the hell you’re doing here.”
“I, uh, I’m staying at a friend’s house next door,” Cathy started, taking her time, hoping to stretch things as long as possible. “She and her husband are away on vacation and she invited me to spend some time here while they’re gone–”
“I give a rat’s ass about that,” Butch interrupted. “Why did you come here with a gun?”
“I-I was next door, at the dock,” Cathy replied. “I was tying up the boat I rented and this man came up on another boat. He told me there seemed to be some trouble here but he didn’t want to get involved. He said maybe I should call the police.”
“Who was this guy?” asked Butch. “You have a name? What did he look like?”
Cathy shrugged. “He wasn’t someone I knew but, like I said, I’m not from around here. He looked about your age, early twenties, tall and husky with dark, wavy hair. I did ask his name and he said it was Rat, or something like that.”
“Rat?” Butch repeated. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”
“That’s what I understood,” Cathy replied. “I thought it was a strange name but I figured it must be a nickname.”
“Okay, so what did this Rat tell you?” asked Butch, obviously interested.
“Not much, really,” said Cathy, doing her best to look pensive. “Pretty much like I said before, that there seemed to be trouble here. I asked him what kind of trouble and that’s when he said he didn’t want to get involved and maybe I should call the police.”
“What kind of boat did he have?” Butch asked.
“Hmm, I don’t know very much about boats,” Cathy replied then went on to give a fairly accurate, visual description of the Barrys’ powerboat.
“Damn,” Butch muttered when she was done, lost in thought, his expression almost one of sadness.
“Is something wrong?” asked Cathy, trying to extend their conversation.
Butch looked up at her and his gaze hardened. “Yeah, something’s wrong. I asked you what the fuck you’re doing here and you’re just feeding me bullshit and not answering my question.”
“I’m sorry. I was getting to that,” said Cathy. “After Rat left, I thought about calling the police like he’d suggested but didn’t really think I should without knowing if something was wrong here or not so I got my gun and came over.”
“So, why’d you come inside like a damned robber?” Butch demanded.
Cathy allowed herself to glare at him. “The cars outside are damaged, there’s a bashed up motorcycle on the lawn and a body on the walk with an arrow sticking out of its head.”
“And you don’t know anything about that?” Butch challenged, “My bike smashed, my guys getting killed and disappearing?”
“All I know is what I’ve told you,” Cathy replied. “With what I saw, I didn’t think ringing the doorbell was the smartest thing to do.”
Butch gazed at her and smiled again. “The smart thing to do would have been to get the hell away from here and mind your damned business. I don’t know that I believe your story, sweetie, but since you decided to join the party, let’s have some fun. Get up. We’ll go get a drink, you’ll meet our hosts and my buddies then you and me will have us a sweet little time together.”
* * * *
“Très bien,” Alex said into his phone before ending the call and dialling his brother’s mobile. “Serge, the boats are in place.”
“Excellent,” Serge replied. “I’ll call Sandy and let her know we’re here.”
* * * *
“I’m ready to go in,” said Sandy.
“I’m in position,” Josée confirmed from outside the French doors leading to the dining room.
“Same here,” said Leslie who crouched on the roof by the kitchen skylight. “Dominique, what are we looking at?”
“Butch is still in the den, talking with Cathy,” Dominique reported. “The guy with the sunglasses is on the loveseat in the dining room and the other one is walking back and forth in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, I see him,” Leslie replied. “Sandy, are you good to go in first and handle Butch?”
“I’m definitely good,” Sandy replied. “Where is he in the den, Dominique?”
“He’s sitting in the armchair between the sliding doors and the window,” said Dominique. “Cathy is on the couch across from him.”
“Got it,” Sandy acknowledged, relieved to know she’d have a clear shot at Butch without putting Cathy’s life in danger.
“So, a quick recap,” said Leslie. “Sandy takes out Butch. As soon as it’s done, Josée and I go in and take the two others. We’re good?”
“Let’s do this,” Josée replied.
“Good here,” said Sandy. “I’m going in.”
As she spoke the words, a beep came through her earpiece, indicating another call.
“Aw, crap I’m getting another call,” she whispered, pulling her phone out to look at the display. “It’s Serge. He might have something for us.”
“Take it,” said Leslie. “Hurry.”
“Allo, Serge,” said Sandy, switching calls. “This isn’t a good time. What is it?”
“Bonjour, Sandy,” Serge replied, noting the urgency in her hushed tone. “I will be brief. We have eighteen men in two cars and two boats only seconds away if you need help.”
“Serge, stay where you are,” Sandy pleaded. “We’re at a critical point and we hope this will be over in the next few minutes.”
“We are keeping our word,” Serge replied. “But we wanted to be close by to help quickly if needed. Call me or Alex and all our men will be there in seconds.”
“I will, Serge,” Sandy promised, “But don’t move in unless I call you. You may be hearing gunfire soon. Now I have to go.”
“Bonne chance, Sandy,” said Serge before cutting the connection.
“Okay, I’m back,” said Sandy to the other women. “Help is close by if we need it but they’re staying clear until told otherwise.”
“Good,” Leslie replied. “Set to go?”
“I’m going in now,” Sandy confirmed.
She unlocked the door to the mudroom at the south end of the house and pushed it open, thankful for its well oiled hinges. Slipping inside, she closed the door behind her and crept toward the hallway which would lead her to the den some twenty feet away. Peering past the door jamb, she could see light spilling into the darkened hallway from the den’s entrance. Her heart raced as she heard the indistinguishable murmur of a man’s voice, likely Butch’s, and realized how close he was and how soon he would pay for his crimes with his life.
As she stepped into the hallway, Dominique’s voice came through her earpiece. “Butch is getting up and so is Cathy. He has his arm around her neck now and his gun against her head. They’re leaving
the den.”
Sandy stepped back into the mudroom, out of sight, just as Cathy emerged from the den, Butch pressed against her, using her as a shield. A wall mirror at the end of the hallway offered Sandy a clear view of them and she froze in position as she realized Butch might see her reflection as well. However, the hallway and mudroom were dark and, after barely a glance in her direction, Butch shoved Cathy out and they headed the other way. They stopped briefly while he scooped up Cathy’s errant pistol then moved on and disappeared to the left, the kitchen and dining room their obvious destination.
“They’re heading your way,” Sandy murmured.
“Stay put for now, Sandy,” Leslie replied. “I’d like them to be all in the same area so we can hit from all sides.”
* * * *
“Hey, boys, look what I found us,” Butch announced as he entered the dining room, propelling Cathy by the arm ahead of him.
“Aw, Christ, Cathy,” Dave moaned, blanching as he watched his wife stumble into the room.
Butch yanked Cathy to a halt and turned to Dave. “What did you call her?”
“What are you doing here, baby?” Dave asked with tears in his eyes, ignoring Butch.
“I asked you a fucking question,” Butch bellowed, wrapping an arm around Cathy’s neck and pressing the muzzle of his gun against her temple. “Fucking answer me or I’ll blow this bitch’s brains out.”
“I called her Cathy,” Dave replied. “Now, leave her alone.”
Fury shone in Butch’s eyes as he spoke. “Cathy, huh? Why’d the lying slut say her name was Becky? Who is she, Captain? Where do you know this whore from?”
“She’s my wife, Butch,” Dave said, the deadly undertone in his voice unmistakable. “Just let her go.”
“You’re in no position to tell me what to do, asshole,” Butch snapped, “And I’ll do whatever I want with her. I guess lying just runs in the family, don’t it. Well, Captain, you know what happens when people lie to me. They gotta be taught a lesson and it ain’t no different for your little lady here.”
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