Home for the Holidays (18 page)

The helicopter light swung across the midway, rushing toward the front of the haunted house. Frankie raised his weapon and got ready to fire. The helicopter engines roared. Then the light hit the haunted house. The hall of mirrors was as bright as day.

Frankie saw Van Allen and took aim—and then saw another Van Allen, and another, and another. He shifted his weapon, flashing from one target to the next. He saw Van Allen turn toward him and lift his gun. He flicked
his weapon to the next Van Allen, then realized he was pointing at Nicky. He dropped his weapon just as Nicky screamed, “Frankie! Lookout!”

The hall of minors was ablaze with light. Van Allen had twenty targets to choose from—nineteen reflections of Frankie standing with his gun. Van Allen picked one and fired. The target exploded into shards of glass. He picked two more, side by side, and fired again. The targets disappeared. He selected two more and fired twice in fast succession.

Bingo/ Glass shattered and Frankie crumpled to his knees, then fell to the floor.

Nicky screamed, “No! Frankie! Uncle Frankie!”

The haunted house went black again as the helicopter passed. Van Allen turned and dashed down the hall of minors. He went around a corner, slowly feeling his way along in the darkness. There were walls in front of him and on two sides.
Dead end.
Van Allen turned and moved slowly back down the conidor.

Luckily the helicopter was coming around again. He waited. When the light hit the haunted house, he'd dash for the exit. He'd get back out to the street and make a run for it. With Borelli's brother out of the way, he had a shot.

The helicopter approached. Van Allen flexed his knees like a sprinter.

Light hit the haunted house like a sunrise. Nicky dashed to Frankie and fell to his knees beside his body, onto a pile of broken glass. He called, “Frankie!” but no
one was there. He slid to the next mirror. No one. What the— “Uncle Frankie!”

Across the corridor, Frankie lifted his head and hissed, “Shut up, Nicky! And get down!”

Van Allen saw his chance coming. The helicopter was swinging around again. The wide circle of light was racing across the midway, toward the haunted house. When the floodlight swept over him, and he could see the whole corridor ahead of him, Van Allen shot forward—and slammed headfirst into the wall in front of him. He hit
hard
and fell dizzy to the floor. Glass showered over him.

Frankie was on his feet fast and got to Van Allen just as the light disappeared. He put his gun on Van Allen's head and said, “It's over. You're done. Drop your weapon.”

It was two hours before they were all back at the Borelli house. Nicky's father had called Nicky's mother and Grandma Tutti on Frankie's cell phone. The backup units had carried Van Allen away. Another unit had been dispatched to arrest Sean O'Farrell. A tow truck had come with gas for the Crown Vic. The Navigator was dented but drivable. Frankie said to Nicky's father, “You okay to drive?”

“Sure,” Nicky's father said. “As long as I don't have to drive alone. Nicky? Come with me? Tommy, you ride with Frank.”

Nicky's mother cried when Nicky's father got home. So did Grandma Tutti. Ten minutes later, Amy and Marian Galloway were there—also crying.

“Jeez,” Frankie said. “I'd hate to see what would have happened if I
hadn't
brought him back okay.”

“Stop, you,” Grandma Tutti said. “We're just crying happy, is all. We were frightened.”

“You and me both,” Frankie said. “And maybe the two Nickys, too. Not Tommy, though, right?”

“I was asleep in the car for most of it,” Tommy said.

“That was the only safe place to be,” Frankie said. “Nicky shoulda stayed there, too. But he had to be a hero. Again!”

Nicky blushed. “I didn't want to be a hero,” he said. “I was afraid Van Allen was going to shoot you.”

“And he did—about four times,” Frankie said.

“But if he missed, why did you fall down?” Nicky asked. “I thought he killed you.”

“That's what I wanted
him
to think,” Frankie said. “I figured he had a lot of bullets, and if he kept shooting at my reflection, sooner or later he was going to shoot me. So I let him think he got lucky on the fourth or fifth shot. Otherwise, he woulda kept going until he hit me.”

“Then he would've come back for me, I guess,” Nicky's father said.

“I never trusted him,” Grandma Tutti said. “I told you from the beginning he was no good.”

“Ma! You never said a word.”

“Well, I
thought
about it,” Grandma Tutti said. “I told myself he was no good. But did you listen? No.”

“Well, it's over,” Frankie said.

“What'll happen to Mr. Van Allen?” Nicky asked.

“Van Allen's going to prison,” Frankie said. “They can't lock you up for killing yourself, or even faking your own death, but they'll think up some other stuff for him— like fraud, kidnapping, assault, you name it. He's gonna be gone awhile.”

“So what'll happen to Dirk?”

Frankie looked at Nicky for a moment. “He's gonna be around, and he's gonna have a hard time. That ain't nice, having a dad in prison. You're gonna want to cut him some slack.” Nicky nodded.

“And you … you're gonna want to find a new business partner,” Frankie told Nicky's father. “Maybe one who's not a crook. Not for nothing, but … you might ask my advice every once in a while. I do know a few people, you know.”

“I knew it!” Grandma Tutti said. “You boys are going into business together!”

“Ma! I told you once already …” Frankie said. “Ah, whatever. For tonight, I'm not doing no thin'. I'm beat. I'm gonna get some sleep before it's tomorrow already.”

“It's tomorrow already
already,”
Grandma Tutti said. “It's five o'clock in the morning.”

“That's late enough for me,” Frankie said. “I'll see you all tomorrow. Or today. Or whatever. Good night.”

“Me too,” Nicky's dad said. “I'm all in. Marian? Maybe you and Amy could come back for breakfast, and the boys can tell you the whole story then.”

“Fine,” Mrs. Galloway said. “We'll come back at, say, ten?”

“Eleven,” Nicky's mother said. “Let's call it brunch.”

“Brunch!” Grandma Tutti said. “I'm going back to bed, too. But I'm not eating anything called brunch. I'll make eggs and sausages. You can call it what you want.”

“Nicky?” his mother said. “Do you think you could sleep a little?”

“No,” he answered. “No possible way.”

She smiled. “I didn't think so. Why don't you boys make yourself some cocoa and try to relax? Maybe you can get a little nap in front of the TV.”

When all the grown-ups had gone to bed, Nicky and Tommy took their hot chocolate into the den and turned on the big-screen TV. There were highlights from some kind of winter sports competition. Boys on snowboards, dressed in baggy pants and parkas and goggles, were shooting up the sides of half-pipes and doing crazy spins in the air.

“You think you could do that?” Tommy asked Nicky.

“No,” Nicky said. “Like, never.”

“I could,” Tommy said. “A week of practice, or two. I could do that.”

“Have you ever been on a snowboard?”

“No, but it looks just like skateboarding,” Tommy said. “How hard could it be?”

Nicky laughed.

“Listen,” Tommy said. “I'm sorry about bailing out on you at the amusement park back there.”

“Forget about it,” Nicky said. “I mean,
fugheddaboudit.”

“I was scared.”

“So was I,” Nicky said. “I was scared to death.”

“But you went in.”

“I was scared to death.”

The boys were quiet then. Nicky turned down the sound on the TV. The snowboarders slipped and slid and spun through the air. Nicky suddenly felt tired—dead tired. He set his cocoa down and sat back in the sofa. What a night! The dance, and the dance-off, and winning the prize, and the kidnapping, and the shoot-out …

Then Tommy was standing over him. “Turn it off,” he said quietly. “Turn off the TV and be quiet.”

“Are we going to bed?”

“Turn it off,” Tommy whispered. “That guy's in your backyard again.”

Tommy got down on his hands and knees and crawled across the floor to the window. Nicky followed.

Outside, moving through the shadows behind the pool house, was the man the boys had seen sneaking around the day before the Snow Ball. He was bundled up in a black parka, a black ski hat and a muffler, and he was fifty feet away, but there was no question that it was the same man. Was it the same man they had seen with Nicky's mother at the mall? Nicky couldn't be sure. But it was almost definitely the man he had seen her with at the party.

“What does he want?” Nicky whispered.

“Who knows?” Tommy said. “But it ain't good.”

“Should we wake up my uncle?”

“I don't know,” Tommy said. “But we gotta do
something.
Who knows what he's planning to do?”

The boys stared. The man in the yard once again appeared to be sizing up the house. He walked from behind the pool house to the center of the yard, behind some pine trees. Then he crouched down and stared at the house some more.

“He's like a sniper or something,” Tommy said.

“Shhh,”
Nicky said. “He's looking right at us.”

“Where's he going?”

The man walked directly across the backyard then, passing the pool and going around the side of the house. Nicky and Tommy crouched, afraid to move. They heard a car door open and close. Amy's Dobermans started to growl and snarl.

The car didn't start. Instead, the man again walked across the backyard. He was carrying a black satchel over his shoulder. He went back down near the trees and unzipped the satchel. He took out a black metal tripod, which he set up facing the house. Nicky could hear Amy's Dobermans barking and growling.

“Check it out!” Tommy said. “He's a pro. He's got a tripod!”

“I bet he works for Van Allen,” Nicky said. “He probably knows we set him up. What are we gonna do?”

“I don't know,” Tommy said. “But we gotta do something. Man! He's lining up his shots with a laser!” Tommy said. “Whatever we're gonna do, we gotta do it
fast.”

“The dogs,” Nicky said. “Amy's dogs.”

“I hear them. So what?”

“That's the plan!”

“What is?”

“We'll go down and open the gate,” Nicky said. “Those guys'll come tearing in and chase him off.”

“Okay,” Tommy said, “but if you open the gate, won't they bite you?”

“No,” Nicky said. “They know me. But wait. That's no good. He'll just shoot the dogs. I don't want him to shoot the dogs.”

“Better he should shoot the dogs than shoot your dad!” Tommy said. “Or us!”

“Yes, but …” Nicky thought. “What about this? I'll sneak around to the bottom of the yard. You go over to the gate and turn the dogs loose. They'll go flying toward him. While he's distracted, I'll grab his gun and run away with it.”

“That's a terrible plan,” Tommy said. “There's no way I'm going to turn the dogs loose, first of all. And he'll get to the gun before you do, second of all.”

“Do you have a better plan?”

The man focused the laser and sighted along it toward the house.

“No,” Tommy said. “I don't.”

“All right,” Nicky whispered. “Here's the deal. You open the gate. I'll call the dogs. As soon as they come through the gate, you go through it the other way—into Amy's yard—and shut it behind you. The dogs will see
him and go crazy. He'll freak out and start running. Or shooting. The dogs will get him. I'll get his gun. We'll hold him until the police come.”

“This is never going to work,” Tommy said.

“I know,” Nicky said. “Put your boots on.”

The sun was coming up over Carrington. The eastern sky was pink. The tops of the trees were lighted. Nicky and Tommy went to the front door and crept quietly around the side of the house. They walked across Nicky's yard and across the frozen stream leading to Amy's house. Behind the fence, the dogs growled until they recognized Nicky.

“Good boys,” Nicky said. “Good doggies. Wait until I wave to let them out, okay?”

The dogs started growling again. Tommy said, “I'm a dead man.” But Nicky was already gone.

Nicky moved along the bottom of the yard, circling behind the pool house and through the trees. His feet made quiet crunching sounds in the snow. A bird called and startled him. Over his shoulder, he could see Tommy crouching by the gate. Ahead of him, he could see the stranger staring at the house through his scope and bending down to take something else out of his bag.

It was time. Nicky got to his knees and waved to Tommy. The gate flew open.

Nicky called, “Prince! Duke! Get 'im!”

Then he heard the gate slam.

The dogs went across the yard like growling thunder. The stranger heard them first, then looked up and saw
them. He froze. Then he panicked. He spun around, looking for a way out. There wasn't one. He began to run for the front of the house. Then he turned and ran back toward the pool house. Nicky saw that he would never make it. The dogs were running too fast.

The man must have seen that, too. The dogs were almost on him. He screamed. Then he leapt into the swimming pool.

There was a great splash. The dogs jerked to a halt, and a wave of water crested over them. They shook themselves and stood staring into the pool.

“The gun!” Tommy shouted. “Nicky! Get his gun!”

Nicky had forgotten. He ran to the man's tripod and yanked open the satchel. He found a level, and a notebook, and a T square. He looked through the scope trained on the house, but he couldn't see anything.

By now the man had sputtered to the surface. He looked at the dogs, who growled at him. The man began to splash around. He reached for the side of the pool, but the growling dogs pushed him back.

So he shouted for help.

Lights went on inside Nicky's house. Nicky heard pounding feet, then a door slammed open. His father burst into the backyard in his pajamas, followed shortly by Nicky's uncle Frankie—running from Marian Galloway's house! He pushed past Tommy and ran through the gate.

“Nicky!” he called.

“He's by the pool!” Tommy shouted. “He's okay.”

“Dad!” Nicky shouted. “Look! We trapped the sniper!”