Moon Underfoot (2 page)

“Yes! Yes! Right here!”

“Okay, use your cell and keep this line open. The officers are getting close.” The operator was trained to keep callers on the line, sometimes improvising to keep the situation under control.

“Please tell them to hurry!”

“They are, ma’am, I promise. I need you to turn on all the outside lights you’ve got, and then you and your daughter—what’s her name?”

“Katy.”

“Okay, you and Katy need to get away from the windows. Don’t hang up, but run, turn the outside lights on, and come right back. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Don’t hang up.”

Morgan wrapped her arms around the now-crying Katy in an attempt to calm her. She told Katy to sit on the kitchen floor and that she’d be right back. Katy started to protest, but Morgan turned around with a stern look and then took off for the front door. After flipping on the light switch, Morgan dashed back into the kitchen, turning off the light as she entered, hoping he couldn’t see her inside. The alarm continued to blare. She hugged Katy as she sat down beside her. She picked up the landline and said, “Okay, I’m back.”

“Good job. Now call your husband on your cell phone. Don’t hang up this phone, though.”

“Okay.”

Morgan picked up her cell phone and fumbled to dial Jake’s number. She started talking the moment the call connected.

“What? Just slow down. I can hardly hear you over the alarm,” Jake said. He was shocked to hear her hysterics, but he was already moving in the direction of the restaurant’s entrance.

“Some man was just in our backyard, looking in the windows!”

“Have you called the police!” Jake was nearly yelling as he ran toward his truck.

“Yes, I’m on the phone with them now!”

“Good. I’m on my way!”

“Hurry, Jake!” Morgan shrieked, tears of terror running down her cheeks.

“Ma’am, two units just turned into your neighborhood. But stay on the phone and don’t go to the front door until I tell you to, okay?” the operator asked.

“Pleeeease tell ’em to hurry,” she said frantically.

Morgan tightly squeezed Katy as they cried. The piercing alarm had surely scared off the Peeping Tom, but it was fraying both of their nerves.

J
AKE SPED TOWARD
home, not knowing what to expect…what to think. He’d never heard Morgan so upset; the terror in her voice was clear.

It had been almost two years since his horrifying all-night ordeal at the Dummy Line in West Alabama. Not a day went by when he didn’t anxiously remember being in the wrong place at the worst possible time. His journey through life had hit a fork in the road on that night. Fortunately, the decisions he had made were the right ones. Although the event had been physically rough on Jake, Morgan was really having a hard time emotionally. Knowing that she had nearly lost her husband and her daughter was still taking a significant toll. The event had forced both Morgan and Jake to reevaluate their priorities and their relationship. Morgan went to therapy, but Jake just forced it deep down into his guts—as deep as possible. On some level, he knew that one day it would surface with a fury, but he didn’t have the luxury of worrying about that now. He had a family to take care of and to provide for first.

As he sped through the Old Waverly Golf Club, Jake saw blue lights flashing on at least two police cars in front of his house and saw another driving through the neighborhood, searching
with a spotlight. The tires squealed as he slammed on the brakes and parked crookedly at the end of his drive. He jumped out and ran toward the house. A young police officer searching the front yard recognized Jake and radioed the other officers that “the husband” had arrived.

Inside the house was chaos. Scout, their aged black Lab, was barking at all the strange men and couldn’t hear Morgan’s repetitive commands to hush. Several police officers were now in the house, talking excitedly on their handheld radios, coordinating coverage of possible escape routes and asking for additional manpower. Morgan was on the verge of hysterics. Katy’s eyes were swollen from crying, but she was watching the police officers with great interest. When Morgan saw Jake, she ran to him, and they embraced for a long moment. Jake looked over her shoulder into an older officer’s eyes, trying to read the situation. Nothing in the officer’s face or demeanor offered any clues.

“What’s going on? What do you know?” Jake frantically asked.

Morgan had her hand over her mouth. The lead officer spoke first, allowing Morgan a chance to compose herself.

“Apparently, Mr. Crosby, at the very least y’all had a Peepin’ Tom. Maybe he was gonna rob the house. Maybe worse,” he said carefully, knowing they needed to hear the truth. He continued, “But we think when your wife turned on the outside lights, he got spooked and fled the area.”

“How did he get in here? How did he get past the security guard?”

“We don’t know yet. Since Old Waverly only has two ways to drive in, if he drove, we’ll know. We’ve got backup arriving now to seal off both exits. We’ll check every vehicle, stickered or not, and we’ll grid search for him in case he’s still on foot.”

“Has anybody been broken into out here?” Jake asked, assuming the incident to be an interrupted burglary.

“No, sir—not unless it happened tonight and it hasn’t been reported yet. This is one of the safest places in the entire state. We’ve never had
any
incidents out here. Look, we’re only ten minutes into this thing, so we really don’t know what’s going on yet. But we do have most of West Point’s officers out there, plus two county deputies, and the local state trooper just radioed in that he’s en route. We gotta good chance of catching this guy if he’s still in here. He might can hide in the woods along the golf course or around homes that don’t have dogs, but he’ll be wantin’ to get outta here as fast as he can…and that’s when we’ll catch him,” the officer replied confidently.

With his arm still around Morgan, Jake rubbed her back while he looked out the windows. The small town of West Point, Mississippi, seemed to have deployed everybody on this call. He watched the parade of law enforcement officers outside and saw the constable arrive. He realized he didn’t even know what a constable was, but there was one in his driveway who apparently wanted to help.

Jake turned to the policeman. “What can I do, Officer?”

“Can we get this dog in a room somewhere and let me ask y’all some more questions?”

“Sure,” Jake said as he headed toward Scout. This was the most excitement she’d experienced since retiring from duck hunting a year or so ago.

As Jake returned, an officer opened the front door and stood in the doorway, obviously excited. “I found something!”

Everyone in the room turned to listen.

“Whatcha got?” asked the lead officer.

“There is a big oak tree right there in the corner of their lot. You can see the kitchen clearly and what appears to be the master bathroom. At any rate, there’s about twenty-five cigarette butts in a pile behind it, and judging from their appearance, I’d say some are over a week old. Some of ’em are fresh.”

Everyone looked at each other.

“Do y’all smoke?” asked the lead officer.

Morgan shook her head and squeezed Katy tighter. Jake shook his head too and then said, “No, sir. None of us do.”

“Okay.” Turning away from Jake, he said to the other officer, “Let’s photograph the cigarette butts and then put ’em in an evidence bag. We might get lucky and find some DNA.” He then turned to another officer and said, “Have there been Peeping Toms or anything similar to this going on around town at all?”

“No, sir. Nothing at all,” the officer said with certainty. He then turned to Jake and asked, “By the way, Jake, where were you tonight?”

Jake was surprised by the question but appreciated his reasoning. “Working. I…I was at a business dinner at Anthony’s.”

The police officer nodded. “Okay. Have y’all seen anything or anybody suspicious around here? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Jake and Morgan looked at each other. Both drew blanks. Neither had noticed anything out of the norm; that’s why they had moved to Old Waverly in the first place. After the life-altering events at the Dummy Line and the kidnapping of a neighbor, Morgan had insisted they live in a secure neighborhood. Jake understood and agreed. Morgan had been the intended target of the kidnapping—only the bad guys had abducted their next-door neighbor by mistake.

The Old Waverly Golf Club community perfectly fit their needs, although neither Jake nor Morgan golfed. Fortunately, the property had a lot of fishable water that was full of big bass, and there were deer everywhere too, so Jake enjoyed being there. The security at the entrance into the development was adequate. Unless you were a resident, a member, or a registered guest, you weren’t getting in…unless, of course, you could bullshit your way past the guard.

“There’s never anything out of the ordinary here. That’s what we like about it,” Jake said with a smile.

While looking out the front window, the officer checked his watch and then said, “Okay. The chief just got here. I need to go bring him up to speed.” He paused for a moment, staring outside, and then continued, “Maybe they’ve spotted the perp’s vehicle. I’ll let y’all know what I find out.” He quickly turned away.

Jake watched him walk out the front door. Turning to Morgan, he finally asked, “Are you okay, honey? Is she okay?” Jake looked at his subdued daughter and then walked over to kiss her on the top of her head.

“Yeah, I think so,” Morgan answered as she tightly hugged Katy.

Katy said, “I’m fine, Dad.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t home,” Jake said, wishing his life could return to normal—before two years ago. Last spring, he hadn’t even gotten to turkey hunt. There were no overnight trips that weren’t work related. He had been praying this winter and spring would be different, but now he knew better. He also knew he should put Morgan and Katy ahead of his desire to hunt and fish. Jake’s mind was racing, when he suddenly remembered something. “Hey, that tree where the guy was smoking—I’ve got a game camera near it. I’ve been trying to get pictures of a big deer I saw one morning for Katy. But I haven’t checked it in a few weeks.”

The officer looked at him curiously. “Will it take pictures at night?”

“Yeah. It’s infrared. He’d never know.”

“A few weeks? Won’t the memory be full?”

“Maybe not. It’s digital and can hold about four thousand images.”

“Let’s go have a look.”

T
HE THREE OLD
men barely spoke as they anxiously sipped coffee and thought of the stolen $116,000 in cash hidden in four cat-litter boxes upstairs in their rooms. Hot cash covered in cheap, generic cat litter. No one wanted to look at cat turds, and since their simple rooms in the retirement center had few places to conceal anything, these hiding spots were ideal. Accurately counting the money had been exhausting, taking almost two hours. Stealing it had been easy and the most exhilarating activity anyone in the group had ever experienced. They hadn’t felt that alive in years…if ever. Thievery had been the geezers’ equivalent of meth; they were hooked after trying it only once.

For the past six weeks, the retirees had intricately planned to rip off the Kroger in Columbus, Mississippi. Most importantly, they had executed it to near perfection. Now, a little more than forty-eight hours after the crime, they were struggling to act normal and maintain their pre-felony daily routines. They were all full of pride in a well-planned, well-executed venture and their future plans for the money. Each knew the ramifications of loose lips, but they found not talking about it extraordinarily difficult. It’s human nature to brag, but the basis of this desire was foreign
and seductive. After lifetimes of never breaking the law, other than a few speeding tickets, the three felt they had just stepped into the big leagues, and they were flying high.

The gray-haired gangsters were sitting at a table in the Henry Clay Retirement Community’s restaurant, the Point, in downtown West Point and drinking a pot of black coffee, just as they had almost every day for the last few years. Ordinarily the scene would have been best described as monotonous, but not today. The tension at the table was palpable. No one could sit still. Fingers drummed the tabletop, and toes tapped on the tile floors. No one spoke about inane topics now that they had a taste for something more. Their former “everydayness” was now boring.