Deadly Night (20 page)

“
So, you’re
next?”
I felt immediately alarmed.

“
That would be my best guess,” offered Ed, before Fiona could utter her response. “That’s why as of tonight, she must agree for us to place her in protective custody. That goes for you and your boys, too, Jimmy.”

“
For how long?”

Images of what this would do to my band—not to mention my call center day gig—flew through my mind. None of the images happy…well, okay, the potential of significant time away from the office lifted my heart just a tad. But the prospect of blowing my band’s biggest opportunity at the upcoming garden party in less than two weeks made me quite upset, despite my determined effort to hide it from the detective. No doubt Fiona understood, at least the glance she gave me told me as much.

“
For as long as it takes to make sure ya’ll are safe…. It’s the same deal for your band of misfits too,” he said, motioning back to the rest of NVP, presently gathered near the Thompson mansion’s front entrance.

Swell. Just frigging marvelous.

What a great night this turned out to be.

Somebody had to keep an eye on Gypsy.

There’s my excuse to return alone to our darkened log home, where only the outside security lights and an overhead lamp in the kitchen were left on. Once Gypsy realized someone in her family had returned home, our terrier’s shrill barks rang out from the living room.

Our big bad watch dog likes to hide under the sofa when no one’s around.

“
Hey, girl…Daddy’s back!”

She totally went nuts, doing her twirling happy dance that she normally reserves for Fiona. Being the ‘Alpha Two’ around here, I only get such royal treatment in my wife’s absence. Despite my dog’s fanatical greeting, I grabbed the .44 magnum from its kitchen hideout, including the holster, and made sure the gun was loaded before letting her take care of her business outside. Meanwhile, I listened for any creaks or footsteps, both inside and outside our house.

Nothing so far.

I’d have to really be careful that my overactive imagination stayed in check tonight. Lord knows it’d be regrettable if I emptied my gun at some fleeting shadow, and had nothing left to ward off a real predator. That’s if one showed up.

I figured the odds were fifty-fifty in my favor, provided the house was truly secured. That became my next priority, which took nearly twenty minutes before I could confidently say it’s just me and the dog.

The only thing on my agenda until ten o’clock tomorrow morning is staying alive. To
not
become Vito Travini’s eighth hack job.

Almost midnight when I got here, it’s now 12:15 a.m. As for my wife and kids, Ed arranged for their escort to a safe haven. A Nashville squad car ran by my mother-in-law’s condo and picked up the boys. Fiona had already told him that her preference is to stay with her Aunt Stella in Goodlettsville, just north of Nashville. The next call from Ed went to a captain working for Goodlettsville’s police department, arranging for another car to take us and our kids up to Stella’s place.

But I declined…for now.

“
Somebody’s got to make sure Gypsy’s okay,” I reminded Fiona, who in turn entreated Ed to make an exception for me to pick up the dog.

“
Okay,” he agreed. “We’ll let him go do that, as long as you and your boys go immediately to safety in Goodlettsville. I’ve arranged 24 hour protection for you, with an officer on duty starting tonight.”

It seemed noble of him, and I found myself liking him more by the minute.

“
And, you’ll arrange for someone to go with Jimmy to pick up Gypsy tonight?”

Her tone sweeter than normal, I sensed an extra coercion effort on my behalf.

“
Well…it might take me a little time to arrange that,” he advised, his tone more doubtful than his words. “It might mean he has to make the trip to your place alone and then I can get my Franklin contacts to arrange safe passage for him and the dog in the morning.”

Okay, maybe he’s not so gallant after all. I could almost taste the gleefulness behind the last part. He’s probably hoping I’d get another encounter with the mysterious Buick, and betting this third time would do the trick. No more Jimmy to contend with and the perfect opportunity to swoop in on his vulnerable, grieving widow.

He don’t know her ver-wee well....

I’d so love to grab him by his Pierre Cardin silk necktie and scream into his face:
“Dude! Get over yourself! She’s with ME and will NEVER be yours… ASSHOLE!!!”

Alas, such actions could readily be construed as assault on a police officer. All that’d get me is extended time in a crowded jail cell with a hard-timer named Bubba. Something tells me Dick Tracy would be just as happy to offer me
that
kind of police protection if it came down to it.

This brings me back to the present.

I just finished speaking with Fiona, calling her back to let her know the place is secured with me and Gypsy safe and sound. Until that moment I’m sure she worried something terrible would happen to me. My jokes about lots of insurance money didn’t go over well, and it wasn’t until she heard Gypsy barking for her chew-toy in the background that she let me hang up. Before that conversation, I called Matilda at home. Less than thrilled I woke her up, she was even more pleased to hear that I’d be out of commission indefinitely. At least she agreed my team should survive my absence for the next week or so. I have quite a bit of vacation time accrued, and hopefully we’ll find this Travini dude before I dip too far into it.

Ed made arrangements for everyone else’s safety tonight as well, from what Fiona told me. Jackie and Angie are staying with one of Jackie’s songwriting pals on a small farm in Leiper’s Fork, near Franklin. Tony and Justin have joined Tom at his sister’s place, sharing her small basement together. Both the Franklin and Nashville police departments will deploy steady surveillance tours starting at midnight.

So what’s my plan for the rest of the night?

I saw this once in a movie, so I’m going to try it. Other than a few nightlights, I’m going to operate in near-total darkness inside the house, and leave all of the security lights on outside. It’s supposed to make it damned near impossible to see into a home’s interior—especially with every curtain closed.

I’ll listen to a few CDs at low volume, and rely on Gypsy’s ears to tell me if anything’s amiss. The house alarm system is also armed and ready.

When I finally get tired, the dog and I will camp out in the living room. The best place to be in terms of central location. And I’ll say this….if anyone tries to break in, I’ll give em’ just a second or two to identify themselves. After that, my .44 will handle any further introductions.

***

I awoke around 4 a.m. when Gypsy growled. I must’ve dozed off around one-thirty…maybe a little later.

Is someone at the door?

Not sure…. But I thought I heard a creak in the floorboards. It could just be the house settling, along with my acute sensitivity kicking in. Or heightened paranoia? Either way, I’m up, listening intently.

There it is again…more creaks. This time they resounded from the kitchen.

My heart raced, more like thumped…
loudly
within my chest. The security system is still armed, and I can see the green light’s steady pulse near the front door. If someone’s in here with me, they didn’t come through any doors or windows. A loud chime would’ve resounded…one that Gypsy always barks at.

She’s still growling, though softer…looking up at me.

‘
It’s your job to save me, Daddy!’

Shushhh!

I motioned for her to stay put as I got up quietly from the sofa, removing my gun from beneath a throw pillow. On tip toes I moved over to the kitchen. Three copper pots swayed above the island, like someone brushed against them on their way down the hallway to the office and den.

What in the hell?? It must be a tall sucker....

Shit like that really pisses me off. I ran down the hall, turning on every light as I went along. Every possible hideout now lay exposed. But other than a creepy sensation of being watched by someone or something unseen, there’s still no one here aside from me and my pooch…at least not in the flesh.

I grabbed a carving knife from the kitchen to go along with my loaded magnum. One more tour of the house followed, holding the knife and gun guardedly while Gypsy crept behind me from a safe distance. Her head tilted slightly, her eyes volleyed from the gun to the knife and then back again.

She thinks her owner’s frigging lost his damned mind, no doubt.

Why not cease this foolishness and call the cops? I guess it just seemed like a big waste of time to me. Like I’d somehow turn into a Michael Myers filet before the authorities would get here, if I did that. Hell, I haven’t even checked the landline phone to see if it’s working or if the line’s been cut, even though my cell phone works on Wi-Fi. I’ve still got a signal on it, so I
could
call somebody if it becomes absolutely necessary.

I stepped over to the large picture window in our living room, peering through the curtain’s corner to see outside. A soft breeze blew across the front yard, pushing Fiona’s irises and her favorite hyacinth bush gently, side to side. I didn’t detect anyone mulling around outside. Under a full moon’s glow, the graveled driveway looked especially deserted. It made me long painfully for my wife and kids.

The only place left to check is the backyard. It’d be the hardest area to discern a prowler’s presence, since thick wilderness backs up against our property. Beyond the several acres we own is sort of no man’s land. Nothing but a sea of darkness lies outside the reach of our security lights. And when hordes of cicadas sing at night, it’s the perfect cover for someone creeping up toward the house from the woods.

On my way to the backdoor I walked back into the kitchen. No way in hell was I ready for the enormous black mist hovering near the island. It sort of looked like a baby giraffe wearing a black cloak...well maybe not so much. The thing had a rhythmic pulse, which gives it a sort of giant malformed amoeba appearance. At least I now understand how the copper pans got rattled. Hell, they shook again after this thing brushed against them on its way toward me.

The sensation of a thousand icy pin-pricks traveled up and down my spine, and I could tell this misshapen mist studied me…
intently,
like it was sizing me up on the best way to attack me while I waved my knife and gun before it. Really, like a lot of good that’d do. Probably a better idea would be to turn around and high-tail it to the den. I’ll bet that’s where Gypsy disappeared to. Smart dog, yes….brave protector of the family, not so much.

“
Get the hell out of my house!” I shouted while backing away, frightened enough to where my legs felt wobbly. “You ain’t welcome here, so get out
NOW-W-W!!!”

Given
the way it drifted toward me,
I knew I couldn’t outrun it. I had a tough time ignoring the thought I might get absorbed by the dark sucker, eaten alive to where only my cherished snakeskin boots were left to tell the tale of what happened, maybe with a sock left in ‘em and my .44 and Fiona’s Ginsu carving knife scattered on the floor.

The air grew even chillier around me, crackling with energy. I turned and ran, slipping on the hardwood floor on my way to the den. I felt certain the thing would catch me, but then something else unexpected happened. As the mist overtook me, my hand holding the knife penetrated its murky darkness, causing the damned thing to immediately withdraw from me. It flew away at incredible speed while it shriveled and shrunk. Like a helium-filled balloon set free at one of my kid’s birthday parties it moved back through the kitchen. It continued to fade away until it ‘popped’ against the back window. I swear, man, it sounded like a cheap firecracker right before it disappeared.

Cautiously, I pursued it. But when I reached the window only the scent of sulfur remained, most pungent near the curtains. I pulled them open, not so cautious now. In the backyard I saw what remained of the mist only for a brief instant, just beyond the parked Camaro where the security lights’ glow ends. Dissipating like a fleeting shadow, its remnants fluttered past the car and on into the thick wooded wilderness.

I waited for the thing to come back. Damned straight, I did. Once the noxious odor completely disappeared, I realized the event had ended. What it meant, I couldn’t begin to guess. Maybe it’s nothing—just a random visitation. But with everything going on around me—around
us
—it made sense that this visitation did mean
something
.

Was it some kind of warning, perhaps a message in mass from our seven murdered friends? That’s a positive take on it, anyway.

I just prayed it wasn’t some morphed version of Charlain Thompson, seeking revenge for the premature end to her misguided, self-serving life. If the Akashic Records that Edgar Cayce talks about really exists, then Dragon Lady’s ghost knows all about the recent compliments me and my NVP buddies paid her the other night.