exhaustion to take over. She knew from all-too-recent experience where that could lead.
Shoving her hand into her coat pocket she dug around then pulled out a small plastic bottle of caffeine pills she had tucked in there earlier. She had forgotten about having them until she had set about digging her flashlight from out of the glove compartment of her car and come across the container. Although she kept the stimulant on hand for emergencies, she tended to put it out of her mind because she actually hated using it. Unfortunately, sometimes it was the only option available, and right now seemed to qualify as one of those “sometimes.” She carefully popped the cap on the bottle and held her palm over the opening as she tilted it. If she remembered the directions correctly, one of the caplets should be approximately the same as a strong cup of coffee. Considering how little sleep she’d had, that probably wasn’t enough. By feel, she used her thumb to work two of them into her hand, then went ahead and swallowed both of them just to be safe.
After recapping and stowing the bottle, she pulled out her cell phone. Christmas Eve had come and gone in a town where the holiday was avoided like the plague. That was just one more thing about all of this that didn’t feel right to her, even though she knew it was just her emotions talking. Still, she didn’t have to allow their disdain for the day to stop her from at least acknowledging it.
Cupping one hand over the display, she thumbed the keypad, sparking it to life. It seemed incredibly bright to her under the circumstances, so for a second she found herself almost squinting. She selected Text Message, and then Ben’s cell number. She was keeping her right hand ungloved, just in case she needed to draw her weapon, so with practiced dexterity, by the glow of the display, she rapidly keyed in, “MERRY CHRISTMAS. LOVE YOU, C.”
She chewed on her lip for a moment, staring down at the seemingly brilliant screen while still keeping an ear out for any noises other than the occasional moan of the wind outside, which had been prevalent all along. Her thumb hovered over the send button, gently caressing it then drawing back hesitantly before brushing against it again. After a moment, she shifted the digit over and tapped the back button to erase the words of affection, effectively reducing the message to a simple Christmas greeting with no expectations or strings. Only then did she finally hit SEND.
Constance watched as the display flashed “1 MESSAGE SENT,” then she shoved the cell back into her coat pocket. It was set to silent mode, so she resolved to check it later for a reply. Surely he was still up. He was like a big kid when it came to Christmas.
She noticed a dim afterimage brought on by the relative brightness of the LCD. It remained floating in her sightline no matter where she pointed her gaze. She blinked and then stared off into space, waiting for it to disappear as her eyes readjusted to the negligible illumination making it to the interior of the house. After thirty seconds or so, she was back to seeing blue-black shadows and shapes.
The caffeine pills she had downed would probably be kicking in soon. After all, she had taken them on an empty stomach, which was probably not the best of ideas, but it was sure to get them into her system quickly. She felt a gurgle flutter through her gut as her body made an attempt to inform her of its displeasure with the aforementioned emptiness.
Annoying as it was, Ben had been dead on the mark with his admonishment earlier in the day. She was pushing herself way too hard and ignoring her body when it told her as much. However, there were times when taking yourself beyond the limit was all part of the job. If she could make it through the next several hours, then she would finally be able to give in and let go. Until that time, however, she needed to stay focused on the task at hand, so since she was doing nothing other than playing the waiting game at the moment, heeding her stomach’s call might well be a good choice.
With a quiet sigh, Constance slowly reached over and found the paper bag of sandwiches. Plucking it off the counter she began to carefully unfold the top. Egg salad for Christmas dinner, not exactly her first choice.
Still, she had to admit, at least a sandwich should be easy to eat in the dark, and better yet, it wasn’t that MRE.
CHAPTER 25
4:47 A.M. – December 25, 2010
632 Evergreen Lane
Hulis Township – Northern Missouri
Sheriff Carmichael was correct. His wife did make a good egg salad sandwich. In fact, it was excellent. Constance wasn’t sure if she had reached that conclusion because it really was that superb or because she was starving. She supposed it could be a little of both.
Unfortunately, as good as it was, and even though she had eaten it almost five hours ago, the sandwich was still sitting heavy on her stomach. She knew it wasn’t the sandwich’s fault, of course. Most of the blame had to fall squarely on her growing anxiety. She had been waiting all night, and she knew that contrary to what a horror movie might depict, killing and dismembering someone with an axe wasn’t a trivial process. It wasn’t something that could be accomplished quickly. It required a little time and dedication to the task. Since there were only a few hours of darkness left to go before daybreak, she felt sure something should have happened by now.
What was left of the guilty burden for creating the brick in her stomach surely belonged to the half dozen caffeine pills she’d taken over a better than eight hour span. Of course, the lack of sleep they were working to combat certainly wasn’t helping her situation either, so she was caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place.
More than one, when she really thought about it.
She was still sitting in the dark, perched on the kitchen counter just as she had been since Skip had left her here. After a while, the close-in stretching exercises had ceased to help much. She could almost feel her muscles seizing up, so she had switched tactics. Now, every fifteen minutes or so, she would slowly flex her knees and rotate her ankles, then stretch her arms to her sides and rotate her shoulders in shallow orbits while arching her back. The latter was the hardest part, given the constrictions of her Kevlar vest. At the very least the limited movement was keeping the circulation going. What she desperately wanted to do was stand up, really stretch, bend, twist, and walk around. She had been sitting still for far too long and she needed to loosen up. She was sure a bit of movement would do wonders for her stomach brick as well.
It would warm her up too.
While the house had started out like a deep-freeze, it seemed as though it only became worse as the night wore on. She could feel the prickly fingers of the coldness clawing at her joints with each passing hour. She was chilled all the way to the core, and she imagined that at this point the only things standing between her and hypothermia were the insulated undergarments beneath her layered clothing and coat, the Kevlar vest, and the thick wool socks on her feet.
Yes, moving around would definitely help.
But she had to stop thinking about it. Moving wasn’t an option right now, so dwelling on it just added to the torture. It was almost like having a really bad itch in a place you couldn’t reach.
Definitely, she had to focus her mind elsewhere. No matter what the sheriff had said, she was sticking to the stealth approach, and that meant sit here and moving as little as possible until it became necessary.
Focus, Constance, she thought. Stay on task.
She sent her eyes searching through the blue, black, and gray shadows, reassessing the status for the thousandth time. The back door was still secure; it hadn’t budged. The shadows in the hallway hadn’t changed, which told her the basement door was still closed, just as it had been all night. While the front door was well out of her view even if she had light, she hadn’t heard the hinges even creak, and all reports from the outside indicated the house was still secure. However, it couldn’t stay that way if this murder happened.
And, if and when the killer somehow managed to sneak past the eyes outside without being seen, and he was bold enough to come through the front, back, or even a window, he would still need to pass through the corridor in front of her to get downstairs. She had no intention of being duped, as had apparently been the case in the past. This was ending here, on her watch.
Constance still had the volume on her radio tweaked to just barely above a whisper, but that shouldn’t present an issue. It was still audible as long as it was next to her, and besides, for the most part it was so quiet in the house she could hear her own heart beating in her chest. She doubted she would miss a call if something went
