down outside.
She slowly lifted her arm, rolled it in close to her stomach, then slid her other hand over and pushed up her coat sleeve. Cupping her hand around her watch, she pressed a finger along the side. The dial instantly illuminated and glowed back at her. There were still a little over ten minutes left before the next radio check. Also, according to the calendar she’d referenced before leaving Skip’s office, sunrise was at 7:17. That meant only about two and one-half hours until it would start getting light out. Not much time. If something was going to happen, it would have to be very soon.
This whole operation was starting to look like a total bust. Of course, to hear Carmichael tell the story it was as if the body parts simply appeared out of nowhere, so for all she knew they were already down there in the basement, arranged and waiting to be found.
No, she thought. I don’t buy that. We must have spooked the killer this time…
She was still staring at the digits on her watch face as they clicked from 4:47 to 4:48.
That was when she heard the whimper.
At first, she wasn’t certain that she’d really heard anything at all. The wind had been making a habit of sighing and moaning whenever it blew through the trees outside. Now and then the radio had quietly popped or chirped from random interference or someone inadvertently keying up outside. She would always listen intently, but so far the events had amounted to nothing.
That’s probably what this was too. Nothing.
When she thought about it, what she had imagined to be a whimper had really been just a single thin peep, barely perceptible in an audible range at all. It could have easily been the tip of a blowing tree branch briefly scratching against the siding of the house. However, she had to admit that it sounded as if it was coming from somewhere inside, not outside. Of course, that was explained easily enough as well. It could have been a complaint coming from the countertop after having to support her weight in one spot for so long.
Still, Constance held her breath and even tried willing her heart to pause so that no other noise could interfere, then she cocked her head and waited to see if she could hear the sound again.
Nothing.
She continued to wait, listening intently to the silence.
When she could no longer hold her breath, she let it out in a slow, quiet stream, then shifted as carefully as she could. The countertop let out a single thin peep as she moved, and she softly sighed a measure of relief. There it was, and there was the source. No reason for alarm.
She settled back into her motionless state and tried to relax. However, that unreachable itch was back, and she was once again feeling a desperate need to move. With the way things seemed to be playing out, she was now starting to consider throwing caution to the wind and going for a complete change of position. Maybe even standing up for a while. Her right butt cheek was actually starting to go numb from the cold, or maybe from the lack of movement. In truth, it was probably a combination of the two.
Her heart was starting to settle from its sudden flutter brought on by the nothing noise. At least something good had come of it. The rush was leaving her feeling momentarily energized, and that wasn’t a bad thing. She drew in a deep breath, and thought about the sound, but more than that, her reaction to it.
“You’re imagining things… ” She mutely chastised herself. “ You’re sleep deprived… You’re hopped up on caffeine pills… You’re …”
The rest of the thought was unceremoniously truncated by an obviously male-sounding voice. However, it spoke no words. Its muted cry entered her ears as nothing more, and nothing less, than a surprised and pained yelp, coming up through the floor from the basement.
The adrenalin dump was instantaneous. Constance felt a hot flush come over her as every muscle in her body tensed. She immediately launched herself from the counter, her feet thudding hard against the floor. Stealth had now ceased to be important.
Her right hand went immediately to her Sig, thumb fluidly catching the quick release on the FLETCH holster as her fingers slipped firmly into position and she filled her hand with the weapon. She brought it up and reached back with her free hand, fumbling for a second before snatching the two-way from the counter.
Keying the radio, she yelled, “Backup! Backup NOW! There’s someone in the house!”
She didn’t wait for a reply. She dropped the radio, and it bounced from the edge of the countertop, then clattered across the floor. She was already in motion while pulling a small flashlight from her coat pocket. With a flick of her thumb it was on. Although her eyes had been adjusted to the dark, the powerful blue-white LED beam was now welcome as it bloomed to life.
Holding it upside down with the business end at the heel of her fist, she brought her left forearm up in front of her chest, projecting the swath of light outward. She rested her right wrist atop the other in a stable firing position, cocking her elbows in close as she aimed her eyes down the sights of her weapon. Advancing out of the kitchen she paused at the archway, glancing right to check the front door, fully expecting Sheriff Carmichael or one of his deputies to come bursting through.
No one did. Not from the front, nor from the back.
“Dammit!” she muttered. Maybe in her haste she hadn’t fully keyed up the radio. She shot a rapid glance over her shoulder at the device lying on the floor, but there was no time to turn around for it and call them again. A weaker, but still audible, gurgling half-scream came up from the floorboards beneath her feet, and it was followed by a sickening, wet sounding thump.
There was another soggy thump and then the ping of metal against concrete.
She needed to get to the basement right now.
Since she was wearing her vest, she prayed that if a deputy or the sheriff came through the door unexpectedly and fired without warning at whatever they saw moving, they’d stick to their training and go for center mass… Or preferably miss her entirely.
Taking the chance, she advanced quickly. In a half-dozen long steps, she moved down the hallway toward the basement door, crossed in front of it, then turned and reached for the doorknob with her left hand while keeping her Sig Sauer poised in firing position with her right. Grasping the round, brass handle with her fingers and thumb while palming the flashlight, she twisted.
It didn’t budge.
She rapidly stuffed the still-illuminated flashlight into her pocket, wrapped her hand fully back around the doorknob, gripping as tightly as she could, and tried again to twist it in either direction. It remained frozen and unyielding.
She suddenly recalled the last time she had been at the butcher shop while they were cutting meat on a block behind the counter and the sound of the cleaver hacking against flesh and bone. Then she remembered the metallic ping she’d created earlier, each time she had hammered the tire iron against concrete. Now, beyond the door, continuing at random intervals, she could hear the dull echoes of a hauntingly similar sickly thump and ping, and she found herself wanting to vomit.
In between it all was a high-pitched whimpering. The screams, however, were now gone.
She shouldered the door in an attempt to break it loose, managing to do little more than send a sharp pain running down her arm and across her back. Rocking backward with everything she could muster, she tried pulling at the door again, but it remained steadfastly in place and the knob still wouldn’t budge.
Stepping back, she braced herself and cocked her knee, driving her foot against the wooden barrier. There was a hard, hollow thump, but no movement at all, save for the jarring vibrations radiating into her joints. She threw another violent kick but met with the same result.
Panting hard, in a last ditch effort she backed up against the opposite wall and brought her sidearm to bear on the jamb where the handset met the frame. Just as she was about to squeeze the trigger, she heard a small shuffle then a quiet thump.
It was a different noise than before-measured and deliberate.
She relaxed her finger and listened.
The noises repeated in tandem. This time the shuffle was followed first by a light but still sharp thunk, then by a quieter and softer thump.
A pause; then they came again…
Another pause, and then shuffle, thunk, thump yet again… Moving audibly closer with each repetition.
Someone was coming up the stairs.
