Loose Ends (16 page)

She was not his problem. She was an adult. She could make her own decisions. She was a professional. She could handle herself. She understood the criminal mind. She wasn’t going to make another mistake.

“Damn it,” Bradley stomped on the brake and pulled the cruiser to the side of the road. What the hell was he going to do about this situation?

He pulled out his phone and called the Jo Davies Sheriff, maybe he could shed some light on the case.

“Hey, Steve, this is Alden,” he said, “Did you get anywhere with the shooter this evening? Any leads?”

“My deputies and I have been out there for the past hour,” the sheriff said, “No one saw anything. But, considering the weather...”

“Yeah, you’re right, there are not a lot of witnesses during a thunderstorm,” he agreed.

“Don’t know if this is helpful,” the sheriff added, “But my guys did a walk through in the area of the shooting and this guy was definitely stalking your vic. This was not a random poacher just shooting in the wrong direction; this guy followed her for a long time.”

“What did they find?” Bradley asked.

“Some vegetation was crushed down enough to tell that he was watching and waiting for quite a while,” the sheriff replied. “Then there was a place where he lost her, and then doubled back to where he finally just about caught her. This guy was good, he knew what he was doing. I’d make sure I keep an eye on that lady, ‘cause this guy is on her trail.”

“Thanks, Steve, that’s exactly what I needed to hear,” Bradley said, making a U-turn and heading back to Mary’s house. “Keep me informed, okay?”

Bradley pulled into the driveway and jogged over to the porch. It was strange that she hadn’t turned on any lights yet. He knocked on the door and waited. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise, something was wrong.

This time he pounded on the door. “Mary, it’s Bradley. Open the door.”

The pounding on the front door startled Mary. She turned and shampoo dripped into her eyes. Swearing, she tried unsuccessfully to clear her vision. Blindly, she reached forward and turned off the water.

She opened the shower door just a crack and reached one arm out for her towel. She found the thick terry cloth, rubbed her eyes and was finally was able to see. Through the steam she thought she saw a quick movement in the mirror. Her heart jumped. What the hell?

It was too early for Earl to come. Besides, Earl should be safely home by now. Did another ghostly visitor take his place?

She paused, wrapped the towel around her body and tucked the end in securely. She slid the shower door the rest of the way open, steam escaped into the room, clouding the mirror even more. Never allowing her eyes to move from the mirror, she reached over and slid the cabinet door open, grasping around the inside for her gun. Finally, she felt it and drew it to her chest.

She waited, listening for any sounds. Peering through the steam for any movement. A second round of pounding on the front door jolted her. She took a deep breath, shook her head and felt fairly foolish. The movement in the mirror must have been her imagination.

She stepped forward, then stopped. The muddied footprint was large. The tracks were from a man’s boot. And it was right outside her shower door.

She leaned back against the bathroom wall, her hand over her mouth. He had been right there. Watching her shower. She felt sick to her stomach.

She couldn’t move. The pounding continued, but all she could do was stare at the print on the floor.

The phone rang in her bedroom. She lifted her head and stared across the room. He had been on the phone. He had warned her that he was coming for her. She heard her voice answer, “Hi, this is Mary, sorry I’m not here. Leave a message.”

“Mary, it’s Bradley. I’m downstairs pounding on your door. Get down here and open the door or I’m letting myself in.”

“Bradley,” she whispered.

Blood pounding in her temples, she skirted the tracks on the floor and quickly made her way back down the stairs. She could see his tracks on the sides of her steps – mimicking her earlier attempt to walk up the stairs noiselessly. She reached the kitchen and felt a cold draft from the open kitchen door.

“Mary! Mary! Answer the damn door,” Bradley shouted from the other side of the front door.

She moved away from the kitchen, backing away from the open door and ran quickly to the front. She unlatched the deadbolt and threw open the door.

“Hey, sorry,” Bradley said, when he saw what she was wearing. “I didn’t realize...”

Then he saw her face and her grip on the gun.

“What happened?” he said, closing the door behind him and instinctively moving in front of Mary.

She took a deep breath. “He was here,” she said, her breath coming out in hitches. “He was in my bathroom. He was watching me while I was in the shower.”

“Shit,” Bradley swore. “Stay here, I’ll check the house.”

Mary shook her head. “He’s gone. Back door. He must have heard you.”

He pulled out his phone and punched in some numbers. “I have a 10-25 – Breaking and Entering,” he began, repeating Mary’s address. “I want a forensic unit here immediately, along with some officers to scour the area for any suspicious persons. Alden. Out.”

He put his phone away and turned to Mary. She was standing in the middle of the living room, clasping the towel to her breast and looking lost.

“How are you doing?” he asked softly.

She shivered and shook her head. “I’m feeling a little overwhelmed,” she replied.

“Yeah, I can imagine,” he moved over to her. “Cold?”

She nodded. “Yeah, a little.”

“I don’t want you to go upstairs just yet,” Bradley said, “We need to check for prints. Do you have anything down here that you can put on to keep warm?”

Mary motioned to the hall closet. “I have an overcoat in there,” she said.

Bradley moved to the door. “Mary, do me a favor and stand over in that corner,” he motioned with his head, moving her away from the line of sight of the closet, just in case her intruder really hadn’t left the house.

He pulled the door open, his gun ready, and found no one in the closet.

“Which coat?” he asked, amazed at the number of different options hanging before him.

“This one,” she said, coming up beside him, tugging a London Fog trench coat off a hanger, slipping the coat over her towel and tying it securely.

“So, the bad guy isn’t in my closet,” she said, taking a deep breath and trying to calm her nerves.

He nodded. Yeah,” he replied, glancing around the room.

She knew what he wanted. He wanted to check the rest of the house. He knew, as well as she did, that the intruder could have only made it look like he had left. Waiting for another opportunity to get to his victim. And she was the potential victim.

She sat on the arm of the recliner to hide the weakness in her knees. She knew Bradley wanted to search, but she wasn’t quite ready to be alone yet.

“Do you want me to sit someplace safe so you can check out the rest of the house?” she asked.

He looked at her, she could see the doubt in his eyes. “And you would you be willing to do that?”

She actually smiled, feeling slightly better. “No, but I would be happy to back you up while you do it.”

He nodded. “Just until my guys come,” he said, “Then you have to pretend that I’m in charge.”

Michael Strong had a secret. A secret he had worked hard to keep. He did everything that was expected of him. As a young man, he had done an exemplary job on the Senator’s campaign. That experience, and his family’s connections, had moved him up quickly in the financial and political community. He had married well and had taken his rightful position in society.

Mike was President of the Freeport State Bank. He was on the board of a number of charitable organizations in town, as well as an advisor on a few municipal task forces. He was bright, charming, well-liked, and, he reminded himself, easily recognizable.

He drove through the poorer section of town, keeping to the side streets until he merged onto the Beltline that led over to Highway 20. He accelerated and entered the Highway, heading west for only a mile or so. Then he exited on Highway 75 and continued north.

The darkness of the rural road comforted him. No one would be able to recognize him or his car. The softly falling rain encouraged him. No one would be out on a night like this. No one would learn his secret.

He thought about his wife, tucked into bed, waiting for him to get home from a late meeting. She didn’t suspect anything. How many years had he being lying to her?

He stopped himself. He wasn’t lying. He was keeping this from her to protect her, protect his family, and protect his position in the community. Really, this was all for them, he reasoned.

The neon lights from Flagstaff’s Bar and Grill glowed with welcome warmth. He felt the tension leave his body. This was his place; he knew he was always welcome here. They understood him here.

He pulled up onto the rough gravel parking lot. The neon sign reflected in the puddles and the rain poured down the side of the building where the gutters had long since disappeared. He walked to the door, caught his reflection in the glass.

He was been the wonder boy. Tall, athletic, blonde and intelligent. He was every high school girls’ dream and he had taken advantage of their adulation, as had been expected.

His parents had expected so much – demanded so much. He had a name to carry on, a reputation to honor, and a legacy that bore responsibility.

But no one asked him what he wanted. No one asked him how he felt. If they had known, he would have been ostracized and abandoned. His schooling, his position and his future would have been jeopardized. He couldn’t have that – so, he lived a lie.

The lights were dim inside the bar. There were booths discreetly placed so private conversations were indeed private. He walked to the bar and placed his order. “The usual, Mac,” he said with a smile.

Mac understood that the success of his business depended on his ability to be discreet. Mike understood more than most that money was a great motivator.

“Sure thing, Mike,” Mac replied. “There’s someone waiting for you at booth nine – you want me to bring it there?”

Mike nodded, a little intrigued. “Yes, certainly. That would be great.”

He walked across the room, slipped into booth nine and gasped in surprise at the man sitting across from him.

“I never knew,” Mike said.

The gentleman cut him off. “You still don’t,” he replied. “And if you want me to keep your dirty little secret, you’ll never mention this meeting to anyone.”

He was soaked to the skin and muddy. There was dirt on his face, and if he hadn’t known him for more than twenty-four years he would have never recognized him.

“Hank, how did you find out about me?” he asked.

“I knew you were gay from the moment I met you, way back when we worked on the Senator’s campaign together,” Hank replied. “It’s not that hard to see.”

“But, if you know, who else...”

Hank cut him off again. “Most people don’t see the way I do,” he said, “Your secret is safe, as long as I want it to be.”

Mike leaned across the table. “Don’t joke about this Hank,” he said, “If people found out... If my parents found out...”

“You’d send them to an early grave,” Hank chuckled. “And then you’d finally get all of their money. You should have outed yourself a long time ago.”

“Hank, this isn’t a laughing matter,” Mike replied.

Hank stopped laughing. He sat back in the booth, hidden by the shadows as the bartender brought Mike his beer. “You need anything else?” the bartender asked.

“No. No, Mac, we’re good. Thanks,” Mike replied.

“What do you want from me?” Mike asked, once the bartender had walked away.

Hank reached over and pulled Mike’s beer across the table, took a sip, fiddled with the tall glass for a moment and then pushed it back to Mike.

“I need you to do me a favor,” Hank replied, “that’s all.”

“Just a favor? Why did you have to come out here and ask me? You could have just as easily stopped by the office.”

Hank shrugged. “We both have our reasons to keep certain areas of our lives private,” he said pointedly. “Don’t we Mikey?”

Mike felt his skin heat with the flush of anger. He had always hated that nickname and, as he recalled, Hank had always enjoyed using it.

“What do you want?”

“I need some help, some financial advice, that’s all,” he said.

“I do this and you never mention seeing me here?” he questioned. “Right? You never even hint about it?”

Hank smiled and Mike shivered, reminded of the alligator at the zoo – cold, calculating and patient.

“If you do this, you will have enough on me that you won’t ever have to worry about me,” he said, “Of course, that’s the risk I take. But I trust you Mike. I trust you with my life.”

Maybe he had misjudged Hank. Maybe he was nervous. Maybe he just needed a friend.

Mike nodded. “Yeah, I can help you,” he said.

Hank stood, keeping his face in the shadows. “Okay, I’ll leave now. You finish your drink, I don’t want to interrupt your down time. Why don’t you drive over to my office once you’re done here?”

“It’s awfully stormy out there,” Mike added, hesitating. “Can’t we do this on another night?”

Hank shook his head. “No, it really has to be tonight.” Mike sighed and took a sip of his beer. “Okay, I’ll be there. Let me just finish this.”

Hank smiled. “I knew I could count on you.”

The sun was barely peaking through the curtains when Mary woke up the next morning. She stretched her arms over her head and groaned. She was stiff and sore. Her entire body ached.

She shifted her position and got caught up in her clothes.
What am I wearing?
she wondered, and looked down to see her trench coat wrapped around her, definitely looking like someone slept in it.