Doom With a View

  She hung up and motioned me over to the far end of the corridor. “What’s your gut say?”

  I looked down at the ground. It almost hurt to say it out loud. “It’s too late,” I whispered. “We’re too late. Something really bad just happened, Candice.”

  She was quiet, and as the students streamed past us, she took my arm and led me out of the hallway and onto the street. “We were supposed to wait for the Feds,” I protested.

  “Yeah, I know,” she replied. “But I hear the food in jail sucks. How about I treat you to something a little more to your liking? Something spicy and loaded with calories.”

  “Harrison will be furious,” I cautioned.

  “When is he not?” she shot back.

  “Good point,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  Thirty minutes later Candice’s car was parked in the back lot of a large mall. She’d made me drive while she fiddled with her phone, and after we parked, she unloaded all her gear and advised me to do the same. “We’re taking our stuff into the mall?” I asked, reaching for my duffel bag.

  “No,” she said. “We’re catching that bus.” And she motioned across the street to a city bus.

  “We are?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why don’t we just take the car?”

  “Because Harrison will have its description and plate number out on every police blotter in town.”

  “Please do not tell me we are running from the law again!”

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures, Sundance,” she sang as she ran for the bus. I had no choice but to follow.

  I joined her in the back of the crowded bus and we passed up four stops before she motioned us off. I had no idea where we were, but Candice had her trusty iPhone and seemed to be following a map on the screen just fine. After walking two blocks, we came to a quant Mexican cantina and my stomach grumbled in earnest.

  As we took our seats, my cell rang. I showed Candice the ID, which read FBI, and she said, “Let it go to voice mail.”

  I waited out the rings and bounced my knee anxiously as I imagined either Dutch or Harrison leaving a message. When I felt it’d been long enough, I dialed into my voice mail and heard Dutch’s voice say crisply, “Call me.”

  I did as ordered and he picked up before the first ring ended. “Where are you?”

  “At dinner,” I said.

  “Abby . . . ,” he warned.

  “Blame my sidekick,” I said coolly. “It’s all her fault.” Candice stuck her tongue out at me and I held in a laugh.

  “You need to come in,” Dutch said evenly. “I mean it.”

  By now Candice was leaning in so that she could hear our conversation. To make it easier on everybody, I hit the speaker function and she said, “We will, Dutch. But not tonight, okay?”

  “Candice, this is serious shit,” Dutch cautioned. “Harrison isn’t kidding around anymore. He’s had it with you two, and he’s had it with me.”

  “I get it, buddy,” she said agreeably. “And I promise we’ll make it right. And we’ll be in touch.” With that, she clicked the End button before I even had a chance to say good-bye.

  “I don’t want him to get into any more trouble,” I told her.

  She looked at me with sympathy. “There’s really no avoiding it. But maybe we can help undo a little damage.” Candice then punched a few digits into her own phone and waited with a perky little smile. I heard the muffled sound of someone answering and then she said, “Good evening, Agent Harrison. It’s Candice Fusco.” The muffled buzzing sound coming through the earpiece intensified, like a hornet’s nest that’d just been poked. But Candice remained cool and collected. “Yes, sir, I’m aware. But you see, we did wait for your agent and they never arrived. We then decided to go to a more convenient location on campus, but we got hungry, so we thought we’d eat first.”

  I shook my head in amazement. She was playing a dangerous game here. “What’s that?” she asked after a short pause and lots of buzzing. “Yes, I know you’re furious, sir, and I understand you’re ready to toss our butts in jail. And I truly am sorry. However, we feel that by hampering you right now with a lot of pesky paperwork at our expense it would take your focus off the task at hand, which is to find Michael Derby. I would suggest sending an agent immediately to his home to see if he’s there. I would also suggest sending word to his father and encouraging him to try to contact Michael. And, of course, sir, if we have any more information that we feel may be relevant, yours will be the first number we dial.”

  With that, Candice clicked off and beamed me a snarky smile. “If that man doesn’t kill you, I will be truly amazed,” I told her.

  “Maybe he’ll spontaneously combust first,” Candice said wistfully.

  I laughed and toasted her with the margarita the waitress had just set down in front of us.

  After dinner we went shopping. Of course, it wasn’t the fun kind of shopping where you look for a cute little dress with some really cool shoes and the perfect accessories; no, our kind of shopping was more like what you’d buy for a B&E. “Here,” Candice said, handing me a pair of black leather pants.

  “Leather?” I said skeptically. “Really?”

  “They’re warm and functional and you’ll look great in them,” Candice said before handing me a tight black knit shirt from another rack.

  “Are we going to the club afterward?” I asked sarcastically.

  “We may,” she said, motioning me over to hats and gloves. “Here,” she said, shoving some black leather gloves and a black scarf at me.

  I looked at the entire suspicious ensemble in my hands. “And no one will ever suspect what we’re up to!”

  Candice gave me a weathered look. “Leather coats are over there. Come on, Sundance.”

  Several hours later Candice and I were hiding in a row of bushes along the side of the house next door to the Derby’s. We’d already checked into a low-budget hotel under one of the many fake IDs that Candice had on hand, and then we’d taken a cab to a neighboring subdivision and walked a mile or so over to Derby’s.

  I sat down on the damp ground and rubbed my aching feet, which I was sure were blistered by the new black leather boots Candice had made me buy. “I think you’re a little paranoid,” I grouched.

  “What do you mean?” she asked absently while she peered out of the bushes at Derby’s house.

  “I mean that there was no reason why the cabbie couldn’t have dropped us a little closer. Did we really have to walk the extra mile?”

  Candice swiveled round to give me an encouraging smile. “Better safe than sorry, Abs,” she said.

  “What I don’t understand is how you think we won’t get caught breaking into Derby’s house. I mean, didn’t you tell Harrison to send an agent over here?”

  Candice’s smile widened. “I did. And if I were him, I would have sent an agent right away, and I would have told him to wait for a few hours, and then I would have assumed the kid wasn’t coming back home, and I would have focused my resources on campus and anyplace an eighteen-year-old kid might frequent.”

  “So you don’t think they’re watching the house for Michael’s possible return?”

  “Oh, I didn’t say that,” Candice said, glancing back at the dark house.

  “I’m confused,” I whined.

  “Harrison would have pulled his agent off the surveillance—he wouldn’t want to spare one of his guys for babysitting duty. What I would do in his position would be to call the local PD and have a patrol drive by every so often looking for any signs that Michael might be home, like his Jeep or a light on in the house or something.”

  At that exact moment headlights flashed out on the road. I held my breath and watched in amazement as a patrol car came into view and parked right in front of the Derbys’ house. A spotlight was flashed on and pointed into their yard and I instinctively ducked.

  Anxious seconds ticked by and the spotlight was turned off just before the patrol car moved on down the road. Candic
e squeezed my arm. “Told ya so,” she sang softly.

  “I’ll never doubt you again,” I said, letting go of the breath I’d been holding.

  “Come on,” she urged. “We’ve probably got about twenty minutes to a half hour before they swing by again.”

  Candice moved out of the bushes and darted across the front lawn of the Derby residence. I followed her crouched posture as she angled toward the left side of the house, near the garage, before ducking even lower and edging around the corner. Once we were in the shadows of the side of the house, she edged carefully along, heading for the back door, and peering through windows as she went. Once we were by the back door, Candice pulled out her iPhone from her coat pocket and tapped the screen a few times.

  “Who are you calling?” I asked, shocked that she would choose now to make a phone call.

  “I want to make sure Michael isn’t here,” she said. “If he is, we might hear his phone ring inside.”

  My mind flashed back to that awful ringtone that had echoed around the front hallway when Candice and I had talked to him earlier in the day. “What if he turned his phone off?” I asked.

  “You ever met an eighteen-year-old who turned his phone off?” she asked me. “Kids don’t start powering down their cell phones until they get out of school and join the rat race.”

  Candice lifted the cell to her ear and faintly I could hear it ringing through the earpiece, but all remained quiet inside the house. When Michael’s phone went to voice mail, Candice again left him an urgent message and clicked off. “Time to go in,” she said.

  “How exactly are you planning on getting inside?” I asked doubtfully.

  Candice smiled sweetly. “I may have undone the dead bolt on the back door before I came up and got you from the bathroom.”

  “You left his house unlocked?” I gasped.

  “No,” she said innocently as she moved to the door. “It’s locked, see?” and she pulled on the handle to prove to me that it was locked. “It’s just not locked as securely as usual.” With that she took out a very thin piece of plastic and began to slowly jimmy it in between the doorjamb and the door. I bit my lower lip as I watched the process. Finally with one last little push the catch released and Candice stood up triumphantly as she pushed open the door. Before she had a chance to celebrate, however, we both heard the high-pitched warning of the alarm box sounding. We had thirty seconds to type in a code.

  Candice moved quickly into the kitchen and over to the alarm panel. She punched in a code and the box squeaked once; then a light on the top went solid green.

  “Man,” I said appreciatively, “I am just glad you’re my friend and not my enemy.”

  Candice’s smile broadened. “Come on, Sundance, let’s spread out. You take the first floor, I’ll take the second. If anything looks interesting, text me and I’ll be right down, and remember, we need to be out of here in fifteen minutes.”

  I didn’t comment how crazy I thought she was to believe that I’d find anything of value in that short span of time, deciding to argue later when my stomach wasn’t doing so many flip-flops.

  Candice shoved a small flashlight into my hands and moved quickly toward the stairs. I clicked on the beam and began opening drawers in the kitchen. Finding only the usual cooking utensils and junk drawer, I searched the countertops. Nothing there. I glanced at my watch. I’d wasted three minutes.

  Hurrying out of the kitchen and into the main hallway, I thought for a moment about my options. To my left was the living room and, beyond that, what was likely a den. To my right was the dining room and beyond that I didn’t know. My radar tugged on my right side, so I didn’t think twice—I moved off in that direction, allowing my crew to direct me.

  Skipping two closed doors, I came to the end of a long corridor, guessing I was now behind the garage when I got to the last door. My intuition told me this was a room I needed to look into, so I opened the door and shone the beam inside. “Jackpot,” I whispered when I realized I’d just found Michael’s room.

  Stepping inside, I flashed the light all around the room, wondering where I should start. Unlike Michael’s dorm room, his bedroom was quite tidy—save for the unmade bed and a few clothes scattered on the floor, it was uncluttered and well kept. Moving to the closet, I opened the door. His wardrobe stared back. My radar continued to buzz, but not with any specifics.

  I went next to his desk and opened a drawer. Nothing but pens, pencils, erasers, and other knickknacks in there. I opened another drawer and found a stack of textbooks and old notebooks probably left over from the previous semester. Quizzically I opened a notebook and skimmed the first few pages. Michael had taken meticulous notes, his handwriting neat and orderly, and all the subject matter, I noticed with chagrin, was way over my head. While I was glancing at his notes, my radar chimed in my head and I looked up. “What?” I asked out loud.

  My attention was pulled toward Michael’s bed. I pointed my flashlight at the rumpled bed linen, but I couldn’t understand what I was supposed to be seeing.

  Again I heard another chime in my head and I knew my crew wanted me to investigate the bed.

  Setting the notebook back in the drawer, I edged over to the bed and stared down at it, waiting for whatever I was supposed to see to reveal itself. When my eye didn’t spot anything suspicious, I began lifting up the bedspread and the sheets, looking for what I didn’t know. After searching every square inch, I stood back and eyed it in frustration. My radar was still pulling me toward it.

  I got down on my hands and knees and shone the light under the bed. Lots of dust bunnies and a few odd socks reflected in the beam but certainly nothing of interest. I stood back up and put my hands on my hips. “What?” I said out loud as my frustration mounted.

  My attention was drawn back to the bed—specifically to the area near the headboard. With a growl I pulled the bedspread completely off; then I tugged off the top sheet. Nothing. There were a lot of extra pillows at the head. I pulled those off one by one, and as I got the last one off, I noticed in the far corner of the bed, right next to the wall was an odd-looking lump.

  I got on the mattress and ran my hands over it, noting that it felt like a flat book. Quickly I pulled off the bottom sheet, revealing the mattress pad. The lump was between it and the mattress, so I lifted the corner of the pad off too and found a lavender notebook.

  “Whatcha doing?” Candice said from behind me, and I shrieked and fell off the bed.

  “Jesus, Abby!” Candice gasped, coming to help me get up again. “You’re a little jumpy.”

  I placed a hand over my heart, which was thumping wildly in my chest. “Gee, Candice, ya think?!”

  Candice smiled and motioned to the bed. “Better put that back together,” she said. “We gotta split.”

  I nodded and handed her the notebook as I rushed to put the bed back the way I’d found it. “What’s this?” she asked, glancing down at the notebook.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted, tugging sheets and pillows back into place. “But my crew thinks there’s something in there that we need to look at, and Michael had it hidden under pillows and sheets.”

  “Cool, we’ll read it when we get back to the hotel.”

  “Did you find anything interesting?” I said as I went to Michael’s desk and closed all the drawers I’d opened, setting it back exactly as I’d found it.

  “Nada,” she said with a sigh. “The old man doesn’t leave much out in the open. And you should see his closet! Oh, hey, did you know he’s got some woman living here with him?”

  “He does?” I asked, turning to her in surprise.

  “Yep. And she likes to dress a little on the slutty side, if you want my opinion.”

  Closing the drawers and looking around Michael’s desk, I gave Candice the thumbs-up. “Okay, everything looks like I found it. Let’s get out of here.”

  We moved soundlessly back through the house again to the kitchen. Candice set the alarm and waved at me to exit. We were just clos
ing the door when we saw a beam of light shine through the house all the way into the kitchen. “Eeek!” I squeaked, and Candice clamped a hand over my mouth.

  “Shhhhh!” she hissed. She then pulled me deeper into the backyard and over to the walled fence that enclosed the yard.

  “We’re trapped!” I whispered as I felt the panic rising and I thought about the patrol car out front.

  “Here,” Candice said calmly, stooping down and forming a cup with her hands. “Step up and climb over.”

  I stared at her hands for a long moment, trying to make sense of what she wanted me to do. Candice didn’t wait for it to sink in. Instead she lifted my leg off the ground and cupped her hands under the sole of my boot. “Grab on to my shoulder for support,” she ordered, and in another moment I was lifted high in the air.

  I clutched at the top of the wall and swung my leg up, hugging the rim as I panted for breath. Just to the side of me I heard Candice grunt and smack the top of the wall with both hands. She groaned with the effort to pull herself up, then tugged hard on my arm as she dangled over the other side and dropped to the ground. I let go and followed after her—although a bit less artfully.

  She was already brushing off the dirt and grinning at me when we heard something growl on the other side of the yard.

  “What was that?” I squeaked as my mouth went dry.

  Candice’s eyes became huge as she turned slowly to look behind her, just before she had my arm and was yanking me forward. “Run!” she shouted in my ear.

  I took two leaps forward before I heard that deep growl turn into an angry bark, and then all I heard was the sound of four heavy paws charging across the earth. Reflexively I looked over my shoulder and nearly stumbled as the most massive dog I’ve ever seen chased us down and threatened to tear our throats out.