Eye for an Eye (An Owen Day Thriller)

by Rachel Ford

  “I don’t want to go back,” she said. “I’m sick of that orange light.”

  “They’ll figure it out if we don’t,” he said.

  “Maybe he’s just hungry. I can feed him. That should quiet him down.”

  It didn’t. He wasn’t interested in nursing. He didn’t have a full diaper, either. Which left me completely out of ideas.

  Cody and Paige tried rocking him gently and talking to him. They tried cooing and consoling. None of it worked. So he crawled back into my and the kids’ room, and she passed Avery through.

  He took the baby back to their room, where Avery cried whatever it was out of his system. She stayed in the sunlight, staring out the window wordlessly.

  We were hitting noontime, or maybe a little after. The sun sat in the middle of the sky, somewhere between east and west. It burned hot and bright, and long shadows stretched across the yard.

  We had time left before dinner. I knew that. But some sense told me we should get ready anyway, as soon as Avery stopped crying. Better to prepare early than be caught with our pants down.

  Eventually, the baby did stop crying. Cody crept back into the room. “I left him on the bed,” he said.

  Paige turned at that, half in a rage, half astonished. “You what?”

  “Don’t worry, I have him hedged in with pillows.”

  “You can’t just leave him, Cody. Jesus. He’s a big boy now. He could roll off the bed.”

  “I don’t want to wake him either,” he said. “He’s asleep.”

  She started to say that he was going to kill their son. He wanted to know what else she expected him to do. “Stay there all day? If I move him, he’s going to start crying again.”

  “Look,” I interceded, “it’s done.”

  “We need to get him, now,” she said.

  “We need to figure out what the hell we’re doing. Now,” I said.

  Cody looked at her. She looked at him. Then she threw her hands up in the air and turned back to the window. “Fine. I’ll go up in the attic now, if that’s what you want.”

  “I’d rather be prepared,” I said.

  “It’s probably for the best,” Cody said. “You can find a spot over our room, so it won’t sound weird if he starts crying again.”

  “And then we can wait, for hours.”

  “It might not be hours,” I said. “They might decide to bring us lunch.”

  “They didn’t yesterday.”

  “No, but yesterday was different.”

  “How?”

  “They were kidnapping us yesterday. So they had something going on in the afternoon. Now they don’t.”

  “They’re not going to feed us,” she said.

  “Either way,” Cody said, “let’s get you situated, okay?”

  So he disappeared into the darkness. A minute later, he emerged with Avery.

  “Look at that,” Paige said. “He got moved, and he’s still not crying.”

  Cody said nothing. He grimaced and handed her the baby. Then, he headed into the hall, to release the trapdoor to the attic.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll get the diaper bag. Kids, you want to grab some blankets or something?”

  “It’s too hot,” Maisie said.

  “Yeah, but there’s not a lot of seats up there.”

  “Great,” Paige said. “That’s great.”

  “You’ll probably want a blanket for the floor. Maybe some pillows.”

  “Okay,” Maisie said. “I’ll get them from the bed, then.”

  I nodded. “Quietly. Dan, you help her. I’m going to help Mrs. Carter and Avery into the attic. I’ll be right back, okay?”

  They nodded too and started pulling the dusty old comforter off the bed. I turned to Paige. “Ready?”

  She shot me a sour look and said nothing. She just cradled her baby and headed to the door. I grabbed the diaper bag and followed.

  Cody was waiting for us, the stairs folded down and ready for use. Paige eyed them dubiously. “I’m supposed to get up there, with Avery in my arms?”

  “Shh,” I said. “Quiet.”

  “I can take him,” Cody whispered.

  She gave him a sour look too and pushed past both of us. She held Avery in one hand, and the rail in the other. She climbed slowly, carefully, and disappeared into the attic. I handed Cody the diaper bag, and he nodded his thanks.

  “I’ll be right down. Give me a minute, will you?” Then he took to the stairs too.

  I headed back to the room with the kids. “You ready?” I asked.

  They were, at least as far as preparations went. They had all the blankets and sheets from the bed, and pillows too.

  “I don’t want to go with Paige,” Daniel said.

  “Me either,” Maisie said. “She’s not nice.”

  “She’s scared,” I said. “That’s all. She’s worried about her baby.”

  “I don’t like her,” Maisie said.

  “Me either,” Daniel said.

  I nodded, and admitted, “Me either. But we got to work together.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we don’t really have a choice.”

  The kids didn’t seem to like that answer, but they didn’t argue either.

  “So listen, try to get along when you get up there, okay? I know she’s kind of a pain in the ass.”

  Maisie smirked and Daniel said, “Language.”

  “That was a freebie.”

  “Why do you get a freebie.”

  “Because I’m a grownup.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “No,” I said, “it’s not. So I’ll tell you what. Once we’re out of here, if you both sit this out quietly, I’ll give you each a freebie too. Deal?”

  The kids grinned at that and nodded. “Deal.”

  “Okay. Let’s get ready.” I headed back to the door, and they followed, blankets trailing behind them.

  Cody still hadn’t emerged, so we waited by the doorway. Then I heard a noise, a kind of creaking; and at the same time, I spotted his feet on the top rung of the ladder.

  Which was weird. I hadn’t heard that ladder creak before. Not good, I thought. The kids would have to be extra quiet going up.

  Then it sounded again, before Cody had taken another step. And I realized it wasn’t the ladder I heard. It was the stairs.

  Someone was coming upstairs.

  * * *

  Deputy Austin Wagner, 1:20 PM

  I didn’t call Jade. Not right away. I dialed Owen Day again. The phone rang four times, and then directed me to voicemail. It wasn’t switched off, then, or at the bottom of a lake. It wasn’t out of service range, or out of battery life.

  So I left a message.

  “Mr. Day, this is Deputy Austin Wagner. I need you to return this call immediately. It’s a matter of the utmost importance.” I left him both of my numbers, just in case he’d lost them, and didn’t think to hit redial.

  Then I drummed my fingers against the desktop, and braced myself, and dialed Jade’s number.

  She answered after three rings. Her tone came across as a blend of suspicion and professionalism – probably because I’d called on my desk phone, so the number on her caller ID would show the sheriff’s department. Not ‘Austin Wagner.’

  “Hello, this is Jade,” she said. She said the name of her employer, and the branch. She asked how she could help. All very professional – but with just a touch of suspicion, because the call came from her boyfriend’s employer. Ex-boyfriend’s.

  “Jade?” I said.

  Dead silence, for five interminable seconds. “Austin?” she asked.

  “Hi Jade. It’s me.”

  “What are you doing?” There was anger now, but tempered by professionalism. I was calling her work number, from a work phone.

  “I need your help. On a case.”

  Another long, ominous silence. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know you told me not to contact you. But this is important. Really i
mportant.”

  “Important?” she repeated. “I haven’t heard from you in how many days, and now you call me with work because it’s ‘important’?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that one. She had told me not to contact her, so I hadn’t. Sure, I’d thought about it. But I hadn’t ever figured out what to say.

  “Okay,” she said in another moment. “Fine. That’s clear enough, I guess. Well, Deputy Wagner, do you have a ticket number?”

  “A what?”

  “A ticket. So I can help you.”

  “No,” I admitted. Opening a ticket was exactly the red tape I was trying to avoid. “I thought I’d just call you.”

  “I’m sorry, Deputy, I can’t help you without a ticket number. Please hold, and I’ll transfer you to the main number.”

  “Jade, wait–”

  “You can open a ticket there, and they’ll walk you through the process.”

  “Jade–”

  The line changed to hold music, and in a moment a perky voice greeted me with the same kind of introduction Jade had used – sans the suspicion in her tone.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Wrong number.”

  I hung up, took a few seconds to get my bearings, and started to dial Jade’s number again.

  Then, I stopped, frozen in place. My cellphone was vibrating with an incoming call. And there, in bright white letters, was the name of the caller: Megan Welch.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Cody heard the noise at the same time I did. So did the kids. He paused for half a moment, and then made a split-second decision. He retreated the step and a half he’d descended and pulled the trap door closed after him.

  At the same time, I turned around and ushered the kids back into the room with a finger to my lips. They were pale and shaken. They had heard the steps on the stairs too, loud and squealing as the well-worn wood bowed and bent under a heavy person.

  I shut the door, quietly. By now, the squeaking had grown louder. Whoever it was would be high enough to see the landing soon.

  “Quick,” I whispered, “back in the room.”

  The kids nodded and crawled through the opening as fast as they could. I grabbed the bat and followed them. The steps were in the hall now. I put the bat against the side of the dresser, out of sight of the door but within my grasp.

  Then, I brushed myself off vigorously, right up until I heard the key in the lock.

  We all held our breath as the lock turned, and the door opened. Light streamed in. At first, I could see nothing but a dark shape, a silhouette of a man and a gun.

  Then, I picked up details. The fleshy shape of the neck, the squat fingers of the free hand hanging loosely, the telltale sidewards angle of the head: amused, sneering.

  Jimmy.

  “You,” he said. “Dumbass: come with me.”

  I was leaning against the dresser. The bat was in easy reach of my hand. But it would do me no good. Jimmy would need to come into the room first, and even then, it’d be pushing it. He’d have a good second or two before the bat would reach him. An eternity, when you’re holding a gun.

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so is why.”

  “The boss wants to talk to you,” a second voice answered from somewhere just out of sight. Shannon’s voice.

  “Relax, dumbass. It’s only a problem if you make it a problem.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked, more to Shannon than Jimmy.

  “You’ll find out when you get downstairs,” he said.

  “There’s a cop sniffing around,” Shannon said. “You need to call him back. Put his mind at ease.”

  I glanced at the kids and nodded gently. I pushed away from the dresser. “Okay.”

  Shannon went first. Jimmy kept the gun on me the entire time, and then fell in behind me. We headed to the stairs and squeaked and squealed our way down. Jimmy prodded me in the back now and then with the barrel.

  Not because I was slowing down or making any kind of move. Just because he could, and he was the kind of guy who would, if he could.

  “Don’t think we don’t know what you’re thinking,” Jimmy said.

  “What am I thinking?” I asked.

  “You’re thinking of being stupid. You’re forgetting that we’ve got guns.”

  “Hard to do,” I said, “when you’ve got one jammed into my back.”

  “I’m serious, Day. The first sign you’re about to say something stupid, you’re a dead man.”

  “And then we go right back upstairs,” Shannon said, “and fill your little niece and nephew full of holes.”

  “They’re going to look like Swiss cheese,” Jimmy said.

  “I don’t like when people threaten my family.”

  She laughed. He laughed. “You’re some kind of big, tough guy, aren’t you? Big, tough guy with his hands up and a gun in his back.”

  “This way, tough guy,” she said. She turned away from the living room, toward what turned out to be the kitchen.

  It was a modest space, with whitewashed cupboards and dark counters. There was an old range, and a big microwave, and a medium-sized refrigerator-freezer combo. It looked to be the newest item in the room, except maybe the toaster. That was maybe a few years old.

  Everything else’s age could be measured in decades.

  Joey was sitting at the table, an uneasy expression on his face. He glanced up as we entered. “Ah. There you are.”

  “I hear the kidnapping business isn’t as straightforward as you hoped,” I said.

  “It’s plenty straightforward,” he said.

  “We’ve got the guns and your kids,” Jimmy said. “Don’t get more straightforward than that.”

  “You’re the shit who called in Callaghan’s body, right?” Joey asked.

  I didn’t answer.

  “So, I’m assuming that’s what this is about.”

  “What what’s about?”

  “That cop keeps calling you. He left a message the other day. He left one today.”

  “Really? What did he say?”

  Joey scowled at me. “Very funny. You know damned well your phone is locked.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” I said.

  “So, first thing’s first, you’re going to unlock it. And you’re going to play the messages, on speaker phone.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then we have to start thinking about risks and benefits. This is a business, Owen. I’m a man willing to take chances, but at the end of the day, we’re all in it for the profit. So if something’s getting in the way of my profit, well, it has to go.”

  “I have no interest in your profit,” I said. “I told you that from the beginning.”

  “Then prove it. Unlock your phone and play the damned messages.”

  Jimmy waved his gun at me. Joey handed me the phone.

  I unlocked the phone. I didn’t have another play here. There were three of them, and they all had guns. Even if I targeted Jimmy first, and even if I managed to get his gun before he shot me, the other two would draw before I could finish them off. One of them at least would get a shot off.

  And then there was Tyler, wherever he was. Probably in the living room, with the Millers. He’d come running at the first sound of shots.

  I had no play here. Not if I wanted to get out alive. Not if I wanted to make sure the kids did too.

  So, I kept the phone where they could see it, on the tabletop. My battery meter showed I had about half a charge left. Slowly, without giving Jimmy any reason to fire, I opened the voicemail window. I had two messages, both from Deputy Wagner.

  I played the first one on speaker. It sounded loud and tinny, but I recognized the voice immediately.

  “Mr. Day,” he said, “this is Deputy Wagner. I need to speak to you about the incident on Jay Road. If you can give me a call at your earliest convenience, I would appreciate it.”

  Then he left his contact information, and the call ended.

  “Okay?” I said.

&n
bsp; “Play the next one,” Joey said.

  So, I did.

  The same tinny voice sprang up, sounding a little more strained and urgent this time. “Mr. Day, this is Deputy Austin Wagner. I need you to return this call immediately. It’s a matter of the utmost importance.”

  Again, he left his contact information, and ended the call.

  “Sounds pretty urgent,” Joey said.

  “If you say so,” I said.

  “What does he want?”

  “How the hell should I know? I haven’t talked to him yet.”

  Annoyance played at his features. “I mean, you have any ideas, smart guy?”

  “Sure. I’m assuming it has to do with the dead body I found.”

  “Has to do with how?”

  “I haven’t talked to him yet,” I said again. “How would I know?”

  Joey thought for a long moment. Then, he nodded. “Alright. Well, we’re going to fix that. You’re going to call him back. If he asks you questions, you’re going to tell him you don’t remember much about the dead guy. You were under stress at the time. Worried about the kids seeing a corpse. That kind of thing.”

  “Okay,” I said. “You think he’ll believe that?”

  “You better hope he does. Because he’s going to find more bodies if he doesn’t.”

  “Careful, boss,” Jimmy said, grinning ear to ear. “He don’t like when people threaten his family.”

  “That so?” Joey asked.

  “Yeah. He’s some kind of tough guy, I guess.”

  Joey laughed. “Well, you behave yourself, tough guy, and you got nothing to worry about. Okay?”

  * * *

  Deputy Austin Wagner, 1:31 PM

  “Mrs. Welch?” I asked once I heard the line connect.

  “Hello, is this Deputy Wagner?” she had a nice voice, but right now it didn’t sound particularly nice. It sounded all business, with a side of anxiety thrown in.

  “This is,” I said. “Thank you for returning my call, Mrs. Welch.”

  “I got your message. What’s going on?”

  “I need to ask you some questions.”

  “About what?”

  “Your children, Maisie and Daniel.”

  A half moment of silence followed, punctuated by a quiet gasp; like maybe it had taken a moment for her brain to process the information, and formulate some kind of response. “Maisie and Daniel? Are they okay? What’s going on?”