Ray punched in the code, then did a quick count.
“Six CS canisters, an M16 along with a half-dozen boxes of 5.56mm rounds, and a SIG Sauer .380, along with its ammo. Four boxes.”
“The CS canisters concern me almost more than the firearms,” Fergus mused. “Someone who desires only to dwell peacefully in a woodland cottage doesn’t need tear gas.”
“Right,” Ray said.
“How the hell did she squirm through such small openings, Ray? She’s a slender woman, but otherwise average for an adult female.”
“I have no idea...” he said, then an image popped into his brain: Lizzy with her hands against the opposite wall of her cell when he delivered her meals. Lizzy’s head pivoting owl-like toward him.
A human shouldn’t be able to swivel their head that far backward.
“Oh no,” he said.
“What?”
“Maybe she’s double-jointed.”
“That’s not a physical condition. The correct term is ‘joint hypermobility’ and doesn’t involve having extra joints.”
“I’ve heard of people who can pop their shoulders out of socket. Maybe she did something like that.”
“It very well could be. At this point, it doesn’t matter. She escaped, and we need to find her.”
“Agreed. Damn. I thought I was being so careful. I thought I had covered all the bases.”
Fergus gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You didn’t know the extent of her talents. Focus on what can be done going forward. Why don’t you get that drone aloft while I gather my things.”
“I will, but I’m going to outfit you first. You need to be prepared when you run up against her.”
Fergus slid deft fingers into one of his Doc Martens, then flicked out the glimmering blade of a long automatic knife. “I’m pretty good with this.”
“You had that the entire time?”
“Of course. I never leave home without it.”
“I really suck at this, don’t I?”
Fergus chuckled. “It’s not in your nature to be suspicious.”
“You seem to have figured me out pretty quickly. You know the old saying about bringing a knife to a gun fight? She has guns, in which case you should too. I’m fairly certain I didn’t miss any when I patted you down.”
A crimson eyebrow arched. “No, you didn’t. And you may be right. Very well. I’ll have the Ruger 357 and two boxes of ammo.” Blue eyes scanned the shelves. “Also a canister of the CS spray. Two can play that game.”
“You want tear gas and a revolver? The Ruger can only shoot five times before you have to reload. Don’t you want an automatic?”
“I do not. A revolver never jams and it will make me look like a bad-ass gunslinger.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll pack a first-aid kit for you as well, and some food and water. Would you be willing to carry a two-way radio? We could stay in touch that way. I have Motorolas that will transmit and receive up to twenty miles.”
“The problem with radios is they tend to squawk at the most inconvenient times. I’ll pass on the walkie-talkie, but I will take some of the Midazolam and a few syringes. Just in case. Like you, I’m no murderer. I’d rather catch her — and declaw her — than kill her.”
Ray nodded. “Unless she’s a threat to the children, of course.”
“Yes. In which case, she’ll be put down.”
***
After Fergus was gone, Ray concentrated on getting a shipment ready for the children. He located the candy — Jolly Ranchers and Smarties had been chosen for the comfort kits because of their shelf life — and included them along with more mac and cheese MREs, and the note, written in large red letters: A DANGEROUSE WOMAN IS ON THE LOOSE. DO NOT VENTURE INTO THE FOREST UNTIL YOU TALK TO FERGUS. HE’S ON HIS WAY TO YOU AS OF 9:00AM SUNDAY. SINCERELY, RAY.
He headed to the roof, then loaded the cargo onto the Freefly, which had been fully charged, thankfully, and was ready to take off. As the drone soared through the air, he scrutinized the ground below it, looking for any signs of Lizzy. She would be careful to keep out of sight if she heard its motor, so he wasn’t surprised not to capture any evidence of her. After the cargo had been dropped off and the Freefly returned safely to the rooftop, he could no longer delay his next chore.
He must go to Lizzy’s cell and inspect every inch of it. After that, he would come up with an improved system for securing her. He didn’t have much faith in Fergus apprehending her, but he would be prepared just in case.
The notion of touching anything she touched — let alone slept on, ate with, washed with, dressed in — was deeply revolting. When he did her laundry every week, he used gloves. He honestly didn’t know which part of the chore would be the most difficult, removing the mesh fence or scouring every inch of her personal space looking for insights.
Hours later he sat on his bed and opened the leather journal Lizzy had kept under her mattress. He’d known about it, of course. It was the one personal item he let her keep. He’d searched every inch of her cell, but the only contraband found there was a black ink pen, stolen from his office.
The strange hand-tooled leather book felt as if it might begin squirming in his hands at any moment, having sensed an intruder
