The Assassin's Case (24 page)

              “I’ve never seen a big man move so fast,” Evans said. And the whole group erupted in laughter.

“I’m glad you all enjoyed the show,” Tedesco said. He twisted the cap from another bottle of water. “I just happened to be the schmuck to step out of the boat first.”

Grant’s smile dropped away. “You’re right, Jimmy. We’re being insensitive.” He glanced at Jaime and Evans and they all burst out laughing again.

A smile crept onto Tedesco’s face and he shook his head. When Grant spoke to him now, he called him Jimmy. The repugnance in his voice no longer evident.

“Still no signal?” Tedesco asked.

Jaime and Evans both checked their phones and shook their heads.

He wanted to check in with Al. He would be walking the floors worrying about him, for that matter so would Dr. Morgan. The important thing was he had done it. He had helped save the doctor’s family. Though Tedesco didn’t want to die, he felt he had atoned, and that brought with it a measure of peace. He looked at Grant, his hand in Jaime’s under the table. That was a bonus. If the man could finally find some solace, some happiness, that would be enough. Though Grant may not even yet realize it himself, Tedesco believed that on some level he had forgiven him. This was unexpected but welcome.

Life, so often cruel and harsh, hurling hundred mile an hour curveballs at you without impunity, could sometimes toss up a homerun pitch.

The waiter brought our four steaming plates. Conversation ceased as everyone started shoveling in food. For a few minutes the only noises at the table were moans of pleasure and the sound of cutlery scraping against dishes.

Between bites Evans asked, “What’s our next move?”

“We need to reach Morgan,” Grant said. A shadow seemed to pass over his face. “See what the situation with the good colonel is. I’m worried about my sister. And Steve.” He expelled a long breath. “The attack on us today could have been because of a lack of communication. Maybe Cane accepted Morgan’s explanation and his men didn’t know. But somehow, I doubt it.”

After they finished eating Evans excused himself from the table. He spoke to the restaurant worker that helped Tedesco before disappearing through the front door. He returned a few minutes later and sat down. “I found us a ride.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

Grant squinted to pierce the darkness at the outer edge of the headlight’s beams. He drove a rented Chrysler 300 along a lonesome stretch of road in Brandon, Mississippi.

“Our turn should be coming up, but I don’t see anything,” Grant said. “Are you sure this is the right road?”

When they turned off highway 471 a few miles back and onto this road, Northshore Parkway, they passed a neighborhood but hadn’t seen much since. Bordered by trees on both sides it seemed as if they were in the proverbial middle of nowhere. A walking track a few yards off the road to their left was the only visible sign of human habitation.

              From the passenger’s seat a penlight flashed followed by the sound of the map in Tedesco’s lap crinkling.

              With the help of the swamp boat captain they had located a small airfield near San Blas. The kind captain, for a nominal fee of course, had even driven them to the airfield. There they secured a ride in a small single-engine plane to Monterrey where they were picked up by Tim Peterson’s private jet. In order to throw off their pursuers and to split their respective driving times they had flown into Gulfport, Mississippi in the Gulfstream IV.

              “We should be close,” Tedesco said. “I’m pretty sure we’re on the right road.”

              Grant cut his eyes toward the passenger seat. “Pretty sure?”

              “Ninety-five percent.”

              They continued driving through inky darkness, star obscuring clouds choked the sky, enhancing the sense of isolation. Grant clutched the wheel, searching the edges of the road for deer. He neither wanted to hit one nor have to swerve to miss one. Steep inclines fell away to either side of the road and there wasn’t much of a shoulder.

On the trip out of the swamp the group had cobbled together a rough plan. Jaime and Evans were driving to Orange Beach to monitor the situation and keep an eye on Dr. Morgan’s family. Grant and Tedesco were en-route to his sister’s house. The trip here served a dual purpose; to verify Charlotte’s safety and to see if she was under surveillance. Grant didn’t think it was a good idea for Tedesco to come but the man had insisted.

              “Look,” Tedesco said. He pointed to some lights in the distance on the left side of the road.

              Christmas lights. Grant eased back on the accelerator. A well-lit neighborhood emerged from the trees. A fence bordered its perimeter and blocked their view. But the glow from decorations shone through the fence and lighted the rooftops.

              The entrance to Northshore Oaks popped into view and Grant braked hard to keep from passing it. According to the map, the neighborhood was situated on the north shore of Pelahatchie Bay. The bay was situated near the south end of the 33,000 acre Ross Barnett Reservoir. The man-made lake was surrounded by a mixture of parks, camping and recreational areas, and neighborhoods. He turned left into the neighborhood through an entrance swathed in Christmas glow. The white bulbs draped in the bushes and hanging in trees were guarded by a set of lighted toy soldiers. They arrived at an intersection. “Which way?” Grant asked.

              “Straight ahead. Take the next right.”

              Grant turned. A glimpse at the circular clock on the Chrysler’s dash indicated it to be five minutes past nine. A number of other vehicles traversed the streets. Their slow pace, the flash of brake lights, and finger pointing, evidence of their purpose. Families out to appreciate the seasonal finery. A number of cars were parked along the curb, many of them with out of state tags. ‘Tis the season for visitors.

“This is good cover for someone running surveillance,” Grant said.

              “There it is,” Tedesco pointed again.

              Grant reached over and pressed his companion’s hand down as they approached his sister’s house. “Remember. We’re trying
not
to be conspicuous.”

Attempting to be discreet, Grant studied his sister’s residence. A few fallen leaves were scattered on the brown grass but the yard still appeared to be well-tended. Framed by manicured shrubs the one-story brick and stucco house seemed pleasant, homey. Though not turned on, the twinkle of bulbs in the trees and bushes indicated holiday adornment. The dark windows and decorations revealed the owner’s absence.
Charlotte you should get a light timer. It’s obvious no one’s home.

              Easing by the house Grant stopped to take in a particularly festive house next to Charlotte’s. Through his periphery he scanned the street, but couldn’t locate anyone watching. A light touch on the gas started the car moving.

              “See anything?” Tedesco said.

              Grant shook his head. “Where too now?”

              Tedesco shuffled some papers in his lap and took a quick look at the map. “Let’s try this one first. Take the next right.”

              Using data hacked from the local multiple listing service they had print-outs showing all the houses for sale in the neighborhood. Two of them were vacant. They needed a place to park and scout the area. If they simply parked on the street and approached the house on foot, they would draw unwanted attention if Charlotte’s house was being watched. Also, in a neighborhood like this, their presence would not go unnoticed.

              Grant made the right turn. According to the map this street circled the neighborhood and would curve around until it ran perpendicular and to the north of Charlotte’s.

              “Slow down,” Tedesco said. He squinted at the numbers on mailboxes. “There.”

              Pulling into the driveway as if they belonged, Grant guided the car up the inclined pea-gravel drive. The porch light burned and dim light glowed through gaps in the drawn curtains on the lower floor. He stopped at the end of the drive next to the closed side-entry garage and shifted into park. “As soon as I get the door open. Pull the car in.”

              Grant searched but didn’t see anyone watching. He ran to the wood fence surrounding the back yard and scrambled over the top. He landed with a thud and stood still a second, allowing his eyes to adjust. Detecting nothing out of place, he moved to the rear of the house and peeked into the windows. No draperies or blinds covered the windows at the back of the house and there wasn’t any furniture.

              He dashed to the garage window and removed the screen. He slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around his fist. The air cold against his bare arms, he drew back the covered hand to smash through the glass. Before he delivered the blow, he hesitated. This was after all suburbia. He leaned down and squinted through the glass. The latch wasn’t fastened. He slid the window open and stepped in. He ran to a glowing green square next to the back door and smacked it with his palm. With a clamorous roar the garage door slid open and Tedesco pulled the car in. As soon as the rear bumper cleared the opening Grant mashed the button again. He ground his teeth as the door clanged shut.

              Grant pulled his backpack from the rear seat before turning to the rear entrance. He grasped the doorknob and rattled it back-and-forth. Locked. He stepped back, about to blast it with his foot, when Tedesco placed a hand on his shoulder.

              “Let me.” Tedesco wiggled the knob in his palm and pressed on the door near the deadbolt. “It’s not bolted.”

He removed a credit card from his wallet, inserted it near the doorknob, and leaned his shoulder against the door. As it opened the security system pinged a warning. Tedesco located the alarm pad. After consulting the printout of the property listing, he punched in the code. With a final beep the alarm deactivated.

              Rushing past Tedesco, Grant located the steps and bounded up them two at a time. He found a window facing the front of the house and scanned the street below, searching for any sign that the neighbors had noticed the intrusion. Satisfied no one witnessed the break in, he located a rear bedroom. He set his pack on the floor and dug out a pair of binoculars before moving to the window. Studying the rooftops of the back of the homes on the next street he counted from left to right until he located Charlotte’s. Grant pressed the binoculars to his tired eyes. Although he had slept a couple of hours on the plane, the tense three hour drive here had sapped his already fading stamina. Fatigue weighed him down, his muscles sluggish, his thoughts muddled.

              A shadow blocked the weak glow of the nightlight in the hall and Tedesco stepped into the room. “Well?”

              Grant passed over the binoculars. “No good.” He pointed toward the rear of Charlotte’s. Her house was two backyards down.

              Tedesco lifted the binoculars to his eyes before passing them back.

              They wouldn’t be able to watch her house from here. Trees, fences, and distance obstructed their view. Grant sighed. Now to plan B. He studied the layout of the yards below, searching for the best route to Charlotte’s.

              Lance stuffed the binoculars into his pack, pulled out the HK Tactical .45, and handed the pack to Tedesco. “Wait here with the car,” Grant said. “Try to get some sleep. I have no idea how long I’ll be.” He unzipped his jacket and secured the pistol in an inside pocket. As he stepped through the door Tedesco called after him.

Grant turned.

Tedesco opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He did this a couple of more times without making any sound.

“What is it?” Grant asked.

              Tedesco gave his head a slight shake. His lips were pursed and his chest expanded as he drew in a breath.

It was obvious he had something to say but couldn’t work up the courage. Grant tapped his watch. “Tick-tock, Jimmy.”

              The big man shrugged. “Just be careful.”

Grant nodded. What could the man have to say that was so difficult? Well, he didn’t have the time worry about it now. Grant turned and made his way downstairs and across the garage. He stepped through the open window into the yard. They had agreed it would be enough of a shock for Charlotte to discover Grant in her house, but finding Tedesco there would be too much. Anyway, they needed someone to stay with the car. They purchased two pre-paid phones on the trip up. If Tedesco needed to contact Grant he would be able to.

              At the rear of the yard where the corners of four fences joined, Grant stood still, straining his ears, acclimating himself to the night’s inherent sounds. He placed a foot on a cross slat and gripped the top of the fence. He poked the top of his head over the barrier, just enough for him to see the other side. His intent was to jump across the corner and land one yard over and to the left. Nothing and no one were visible in any of the dark yards. Though shadows swept by some of the curtained windows in the surrounding houses, no one appeared to be looking outside.

              Grant vaulted the fence, bending to a crouch as he landed. He craned his ears before edging along toward the next yard. To get to Charlotte’s he needed to jump out of this yard and the next to get into her back yard. He crept along hoping to remain beyond the range of any motion sensored lighting. A low growl caused him to stop.
I hope that’s in the next yard.
Movement drew his eye and a dark silhouette emerged from the shadows near the house. A dog barked. A big dog. Followed by the sound of feet pounding toward him.

             
Oh crap.

              Sprinting toward the next fence Grant realized it would be close. In the corner of his eye he saw the dog racing to intercept. The gloom didn’t allow him to make out many details. Just a large body and head.

              Hitting the fence at full speed, Grant placed a foot halfway up and grabbed the top. He felt the brush of a body beneath him and something tugged his pants leg as he sprang over. While in the air he glanced back. All he could see was a set of white snapping teeth, black eyes, and a tangle of fur as the dog slammed his front paws into the fence.

              Landing in a tangle, Grant tripped. Pin-wheeling his arms for balance he stumbled forward a few steps before he fell. He hit on his side and rolled to his feet, coming up in a dead run, a deep throaty bark covering the sounds of his footsteps. With no hesitation he dashed across the yard and launched over the fence into Charlotte’s back yard. The moment he hit the ground he scrambled into the shadow of a tree and flattened himself against its trunk.

              In the distance someone yelled at Brutus to be quiet.

Brutus. That figures.

* * * * *

Jaime was scouring Shannon Chamberlain’s neighborhood. She had already searched Ms. Chamberlain’s street without finding anything and now drove along the street just to its east. The cheap wig covering her head itched and she forced herself not to scratch. Evans and Jaime hoped to discover if Cane had a team in the area.

              Most of the beautiful homes weren’t occupied, making the road seem desolate. In a driveway to her right, the headlights shined on the side of a white van with cable company markings on its side, parked next to a four-door sedan. She lifted her foot off the accelerator, but didn’t tap the brakes so the glare of taillights wouldn’t reveal her interest in the house. Though two vehicles were parked in the driveway no lights shone from the house. Not a porch light or so much as the glow of a nightlight. The digital clock on the rented Malibu’s dash said it was nine-twenty.
Hmm.
It could be nothing, just early sleepers who didn’t decorate for Christmas. But maybe not. She noted the address to give to Evans.