Days of Reckoning (18 page)

“Probably bullshit, but I’m going have a plainclothes guy come in to help keep an eye on things. Meantime, I’m going to look around and see if I can find a couple of this clown’s buddies here.”

“Alright, man, whatever you need to do. Thanks for the tip. I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

Sam nodded and moved off into the crowd. He had memorized pictures of Eldon Marshal and Tim Butcher from their files. Naturally they would look different in person, but the photos were close enough to count. Several of the men in the bar eyed him suspiciously. Apparently they were used to watching out for the law. A few of the ladies regarded him with interest, but he ignored their glances so they ignored him. Sam swept through the bar, then made his way over to the dance floor. Several solid bodies jostled him roughly, and he thought wistfully about the old movies where an officer could use a nightstick to bust heads with impunity.

He managed to make it to the men’s room in one piece. A quick glance confirmed his quarry was not in there. On a whim he peeked into the women’s room as well, which elicited epithets of varying severity from the occupants. He waved and apologized, then made his way back to the front of the bar.

Arnie Freed, one of the officers present at the scene of Hector Gutierrez’s shooting, stood next to the bouncer. “Hey Sam,” he called out in greeting.

“Desk sergeant says the same guy was in earlier looking for you. Left a number where you could reach him. Guess he was pissed you weren’t in.”

“I guess so,” Sam said. If Jesse had been looking for him, he was certain it had to do with the militia and the assault out at Wainwright’s hunting lodge. “Listen, if this guy shows up, you take him into custody. And be careful; he may be carrying some iron. You nab him, you give me a call, okay?”

Jesse McClintock sat at another bar, this one primarily a student hangout, sipping a draft and ogling the attractive young coeds. He had a Beretta 92 in his car; right now, he was trying to drink enough to actually work up the nerve to go back to the Night Owl and make use of it. He wiped foam from his mouth and let the empty glass clunk on the counter. He signaled the bartender. Maybe a shot of whiskey would give him the balls he needed.

#

Finding Jesse’s house was difficult. It was dark, there weren’t any mailboxes on the street and few houses had any numbers painted clearly. Miranda figured that she was in the right area, so she pulled around the block and parked her car on the road. The house that Jesse and his wife occupied was a rundown two-story affair with dirty white siding. It was similar to the one they let Damon use, actually, except his was a single story. Miranda kept moving past it, trying to get a feel for who was active in the neighborhood. She saw lights on in the houses on either side of Jesse’s. One actually had a window open, and she could hear the sounds of a late night sitcom coming from the television inside. This would be a tough place to stage a hit.

The next house over was dark. Miranda glanced around and then headed up its front walk, as if to ring the doorbell. Satisfied that no one was visibly observing her, she ducked and made her way along the front of the house to the side, then around to the back. She listened for any shouts, movements or other noises that would signal trouble. There were none.

Looking across the backyards, Miranda saw that she would have to clear a low chain-link fence to get to Jesse’s house. That was bad. Fences were noisy and usually a signal that dogs or kids lived in the adjoining residence. She swore, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Miranda moved along the fence to the back of the yard. A wooden privacy fence protected the house adjacent to the back. Miranda decided to take her chances with the chain-link.

She watched the house for several minutes and examined the back yard. There wasn’t a doghouse visible, nor could she see any dishes on the back patio. A swing set indicated the presence of children in the home; once inside Jesse’s house she would have to be careful not to let any stray shots go through the wall.

She heaved herself over the fence and crouched on the other side, again remaining still and examining the house. It occurred to her that the owners might have motion sensors connected to lights to alert them to the presence of intruders; fortunately, that worry went unfounded. Satisfied that she hadn’t yet been detected, Miranda moved across the yard and cleared the fence again. She followed the same routine and then ran in a crouch to the back patio of Jesse’s house.

The back was unlit, much like the front had been, and she guessed that he and his wife were either sleeping or out on the town. She looked for signs of a pet. Again, there were no water dishes in the yard, and she didn’t detect the odor of any old droppings. Neither had she stepped in anything during her journey to the back door. Miranda heaved a breath, reached inside her jacket for the Walther and knocked lightly on the door. There was no answer.

She waited a moment and tried again. Still nothing. Not wanting to remain outside where she was visible, Miranda looked around for an alternate entrance. The windows all looked to be of the kind that only opened from the inside, which was a smart move on Jesse’s part. Breaking one was out of the question; too many neighbors were still awake. Feeling frustration mounting, Miranda reached for the door and turned the knob. To her surprise, it moved easily, and the sound of the latch clicking inside the door was welcome indeed. She pushed it gently inward. It creaked a bit, but no chains or bolts barred her way, and she was inside.

Miranda scanned the room over the sights of her gun before pushing the door shut. She was in a sitting room, with the kitchen off to her right. She noticed that Jesse had a large-screen television mounted in a wooden entertainment center.
Not too bad for a lumberman,
she mused. Maybe the money came from his wife. To the left of the entertainment center was a set of stairs that led up to the second floor. Miranda watched them intently and listened for the creaks and brushes that would give away footsteps, but everything was quiet. She turned her attention to the little hallway that led to the front of the house and moved forward.

The front room on her left and dining nook to the right were both empty. Miranda checked in the small bathroom in the hallway and looked briefly through the door that led to the basement steps. She decided to inspect that area later, and closed a latch over the door that would keep anyone down there from coming up and surprising her. With the first floor secured, she went up the stairs by the entertainment center.

The second floor consisted of two bedrooms, a bathroom and a linen closet. All were devoid of people. Miranda replaced her pistol in its holster and made her way back downstairs. She would wait for Jesse to return. In the meantime, she decided to further orient herself with the house. Since the basement was the one area she hadn’t physically inspected, she started there.

Miranda risked turning on the lights in the basement, as it was too dark to descend unaided. It was cool and damp down there. The walls and floor were unfinished, and her footsteps echoed off of the concrete as she made her way down the wooden stairs. Tools, lawn equipment and boxes lay strewn about randomly. Miranda was about to go back upstairs when something on the worktable caught her eye.

A blue pistol box lay open. Miranda flipped the lid and saw a Pietro Beretta logo sticker on top. Inside was a spare, unloaded magazine. She pulled it out and turned it over in her hand. Judging by the mag and the outline in the foam, a model 92 had been stored in the box. She wondered where it was now. If Jesse had it on him, that could cause complications. Miranda returned the mag and box to their original positions and went back upstairs, beginning to reconsider the wisdom of this latest foray into the world of the hitman.

She returned to the second floor, thinking that the bathroom would be a good place to catch Jesse unawares. While debating whether or not to hide in the shower, Miranda noticed a definite lack of toiletry items, specifically feminine products that Jesse’s wife would doubtless have. She glanced in the shower. Nothing but a bar of soap and some men’s dandruff shampoo. Hanging off of the shower nozzle, however, was a pink shower poof, indicating that, yes, a woman still did frequent the place. Puzzled, Miranda looked in the cupboard under the sink. She found an open packet of tampons and some shaving cream. Upon further inspection she saw outlines in the thin layer of dust where various other bottles and cans had recently stood. Miranda left the bathroom and went into the master bedroom.

She glanced at the unmade bed and went to the dresser on the far side of the room. Looking through the drawers, she saw that the contents had been carelessly sorted through and tossed aside. In the closet, clothes on hangers lay scattered, both on the floor and against the walls. Jesse’s wife, it appeared, had left in a hurry. Miranda sat on the bed and rubbed her chin, wondering how significant this new wrinkle might be. Then she heard a car pull to a stop outside. She froze, suddenly remembering that she had not turned off the light in the basement.

Sam drummed on the steering wheel of his car as he tried to figure out which house was Jesse’s. It was the light coming from a basement window in an otherwise dark house that ultimately caught his attention. He pulled up in front of the house and idled for a minute. There was no attached garage; the residents of this neighborhood all parked their vehicles on the street. And this house didn’t have a car in front of it. Perhaps the occupant had mistakenly left a light on, but Sam knew he was somewhere in the vicinity of Jesse’s home, and that lone speck of light bothered him. He pulled his car forward and drove around the block, parking behind a sedan.

Sam grabbed a flashlight from his car’s glovebox, clipped his badge to his belt and made sure to turn off his cell phone. He didn’t want its annoying tone to give him away. He would check his messages later, if anyone needed to get hold of him.

The night was cool and crisp when he stepped out of his car. It was shaping up to be a pleasant spring. He breathed deeply; even the usual odor of the rundown neighborhood was negated by the freshness in the air. He thought that the trees and budding plants at the state park would be beautiful, and wished he could take the time to go hiking there.
Maybe in the fall
.

Unease worked its way through Sam as he turned up the front walk of what he confirmed was Jesse’s house. The light in the basement was now off, and no other lights shone from inside. He switched the flashlight to his left hand and felt for the reassuring bulk of his pistol. The cheap wooden front door echoed as he rapped on it with the flashlight.

#

Miranda heard the knock on the door and swore quietly. She knelt in the doorway of the first floor bathroom, her Walther pointing to the front of the house. Hope had risen when the vehicle out front pulled away, but it died away again with the sound of the knocking. Jesse wouldn’t knock on his own front door, so the person outside had to be either a neighbor or the police. She forced herself to breathe steadily, trying to get her pulse down to a normal rate. Now was not a good time to get overexcited. She wondered why she was nervous now, when she hadn’t been the other times she was about to engage in a gunfight.
Probably because I’m the one trapped in a tight spot
, she decided.

Her ears prickled at the sound of voices outside. This was getting worse by the second. She looked over her shoulder at the back door, debating whether or not to risk a run for it.

#

One of Jesse’s neighbors stepped out and called a greeting to Sam.
So much for the element of surprise
, Sam thought.

“Jesse and Tina ain’t here, if you’re lookin’ for them.” A heavyset man in a robe and slippers stood in the yard beside Jesse’s. Some type of mixed-breed dog sniffled the ground around his feet. “I only mention it ‘cause you’re the second person been wandering around here tonight.”

“Is that so?” Sam called back. “Any idea where Jesse is?”

The man shrugged. “His wife took off earlier this evening. Looked like she was packed for a vacation or something. Jesse’s been in and out. He didn’t look too happy last time he left, I guess about an hour or so ago.”

“That a fact?” Sam pulled his jacket aside so the neighbor could see his badge. “I’m with Sparta PD. Jesse called me earlier saying he wanted to speak with me, which is why I’m here. Any idea who the other person was that stopped by?”

Where had Sam heard that description before? His mind shuffled back over the past few days. “Well look,” he said, still trying to remember, “I’m going to have a look around the house, make sure everything is okay here. So if you see someone poking around out back, it’ll probably just be me. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t release the hounds on me.”