Two hundred thousand dollars had vanished.
She had planned on confronting him at first, demand to know what was going on. Then she had heard the woman’s voice. A bubbly, nauseating tone meant to seduce.
It was a tone she had tried in high school, and one she had failed miserably at.
For a moment, she had stood, paralyzed, all of her worst fears recognized in the woman’s words. Then, she had taken the Luger out of its hiding place.
Linda stood outside the closed door of Zeke’s home office, clutching the old Luger her grandfather had brought home from World War II. The pistol was loaded and ready. She had done it exactly the way her grandfather had shown her. He had given it to her privately on her wedding day.
Don’t trust him, honey child, he told her. Don’t ever trust him. I’ve seen a hundred of his kind. He’ll hurt you. Leave you stranded with that child you’re carrying. He’ll take the money and run. Make no mistake about that. If he does, you stop him. You stop him dead.
And here he is, she thought numbly. Planning to run away with this woman. He’s going to leave us. How am I going to support Jeff? I don’t have any work skills. Zeke never let me get a job. Not ever.
She heard the telltale scrape of his chair’s wheels against the wooden floor.
“I just need to get the keys to the car,” Zeke told his companion. “I don’t need anything else. I can buy clothes wherever we go.”
The woman’s response was muffled, and he laughed. “No. There’s nothing I want here. Nothing at all.”
The floor creaked beneath his weight, and Linda took a step back, bringing the pistol up and gripping it with both hands, her finger on the trigger.
Zeke opened the door, and, beyond his surprised expression, Linda saw the dolled-up face of a woman who fancied herself some sort of pin-up model.
“Linda,” Zeke began, and Linda pulled the trigger.
The ammunition in the Luger was old, and the first shot was a misfire.
As full understanding filled his eyes, Linda cleared the unspent round and fired the weapon again.
The bullet smashed into his throat, tearing it open and causing him to waver on his feet. Twice more, she pulled the trigger, and both rounds slammed into his chest.
Zeke’s eyes rolled up into his head, blood frothing at his lips, and he pitched backward.
Linda saw the look of rage on the other woman’s face and calmly shot her.
The bullet smashed the window directly behind the woman, passing through her as though she wasn’t there.
Linda blinked and pulled the trigger again. The round was a misfire, like the first, and as Linda tried to clear it, the other woman stepped into the hall.
It took Linda a moment to understand the stranger hadn’t stepped over Zeke but through him.
“Do you have any idea how many men I’ve gone through in the past week?” the woman demanded, and it was only as she drew closer that Linda realized she could see through the stranger. “Do you?!”
Linda tried to shoot the woman, but the weapon was knocked out of her hand. Cold hands wrapped around her throat. Linda gasped for breath as the woman held her up for a moment before she threw her down the length of the hallway.
“You’re going to die,” the woman told Linda. “Because I am mightily upset about having to find some other sap to take hold of my glasses. You better hope your boy is stronger than your husband. If he isn’t,” the woman smiled, “he’s going to be spending a lot of quality time with me.”
“No,” Linda whispered, crawling backward, away from the woman.
“Oh, that’s a definite fact, sister,” the woman sneered. “I’m going to have a whole lot of fun with your boy, one way or another.”
Linda turned and scrambled for the kitchen door.
A cold hand latched onto her ankle, squeezed hard enough to shatter the bone, and dragged her back into the hallway.
“No,” the woman whispered into Linda’s ear, “you don’t get to go anywhere. At least, not alive.”
“What are you?!” Linda whimpered.
“Dead,” the woman answered. “Just like you’re going to be.”
Linda opened her mouth to scream again, but a sudden surge of pain silenced her.
Chapter 18: No Rest
Thursday, 1:30 PM
“Have you slept at all, my friend?” Carl asked.
Shane looked up from his desk, then at the clock. He shook his head and chuckled. “No, I don’t think I have. Not for any real length of time, anyway.”
Carl frowned. “I do not think Ms. Perez would approve of you not taking care of yourself.”
“I know she wouldn’t,” Shane yawned. He considered a cigarette and pushed the idea aside. He was nearly asleep sitting up. “I’ll hit the rack in a few minutes, get some sleep. Maybe an hour or two.”
“Why not longer?” Carl inquired.
“Too much to do. Too much to sort through.” Shane rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “There’s been no word on where the sunglasses might be, and I don’t like the idea of them kicking around.”
“And what of the robberies? Has there been any new information regarding those?”
“Nope,” Shane said, shaking his head. “But I am going to drive down to see Victor and Tom today. I’ve put it off long enough. I was healing and, well, I let Jacinta distract me. Kind of a pleasant distraction, you know? Can’t do that anymore, I need to focus.”
“You will speak with this Mr. Thorne?”
Shane nodded.
“Will you have more living company here at some point?” Carl asked.
“Probably, although I don’t know when. Why?”
“I am thinking, Shane, that you may want to do a better job cleaning.”
“What?” Shane asked, chuckling. “This place is spotless.”
“For a bachelor who does not receive any callers, it is. However, you seem to be having quite a bit of company of late.” Carl shook his head. “It is my considered opinion that you should elevate your cleaning.”
“Get out,” Shane commanded with faux anger. “Out!”
The German offered an elaborate bow, turned sharply on his heel, and strode out of the room.
Yawning, Shane got to his feet and glanced around the room. For the first time, he noticed the dust on the shelves, and he shook his head.
“Damn,” he muttered. “Carl’s right.”
***
Thursday, 6:00 PM
Shane finished his cigarette as he pulled into the driveway of Victor and Tom’s house. Shutting off the car, he grabbed his knapsack and climbed out of the vehicle. By the time he closed the car door, Tom was stepping out of the home’s entrance, grinning.
“How are you, stumpy?” Shane asked.
Tom flipped him off, and from within the house came Victor’s voice.
“Tom, come on.”
The teen and Shane laughed as they walked into the house.
“Seriously,” Shane said as Tom closed the door. “How are you doing?”
“Good,” Tom replied. “Life is good.”
“Yeah?” Shane asked.
“Yeah.”