A Killing Rain (13 page)

And he had seen Outlaw again at the park, but it had been getting dark and
then, after they shot at him, he had run away.

This guy was the same height...and he
was black.

Vargas looked back out at the street.
Damn
. It had to be Outlaw or why would the cops let him in? He wasn’t wearing a uniform or anything.

Shit, if that was Outlaw, then maybe they could make their move tonight. Maybe later, about three in the morning, when the cop outside was drifting off to sleep out of boredom and the cop inside had settled down in front of the TV. Maybe they could get in and kill the bastard while he
slept right next to his wife.

Vargas could hear Ellis dragging the second body into the garage.

And maybe if he was the one who came up with the plan this time he could impress Byron and make up for screwing things up in the park.

But first, he had to make sure it was Outlaw in the house.

His eyes drifted toward the kitchen but he didn’t want to leave the window to make the call. That’s when he saw a second phone on a small stand near the hall leading to the bedrooms. He went and picked it up, stretching the cord to take the phone as close to the window as he could. He knelt at the window, reached in his jeans pocket, and unfolded a slip of paper with a phone number on it. He dialed it and a man answered.

“Outlaw? Is that you, Austin Outlaw?”

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

Vargas hung up, setting the phone on the floor.
Yeah. Yeah.

He cracked the blind, watching. Suddenly, the lights in
the house went out and the whole place sunk into darkness.

Something was wrong. Shit...what the hell was going on?

Ellis came back in, wiping his gloved hands on his jeans. “What a fucking mess,” he muttered.

Vargas stood up, moving away from the window. He stepped past Ellis, through the kitchen doorway. He had to have a minute to think this out, figure out the next move.

“Where you going?” Ellis asked.

“I’m hungry. There’s another pizza in the car. I’m going to get it
.”

The garage was dark, and he tripped over something, cursing softly. He felt his way around the white Buick, and the string from the overhead light hit him in the face. He jerked the light on and stood still, trying to sort things out
, trying to figure out why the lights had gone out in Outlaw’s house all of a sudden. Maybe he should have told Byron about Outlaw right from the start.

He started back inside the house, remembered the pizza, and went to the Toyota. He yanked opened the front door and grabbed the vinyl pizza warmer.
Ellis was still standing at the front window, the phone in his hand when Adam got back to the living room. He was staring at Vargas.

“Adam, who did you call?”

Vargas set the pizza box on the counter.

“Who the fuck did you call?” Ellis asked again.

Vargas hesitated. “Outlaw. He’s in the house. I saw him go in. I called to make sure and he answered.”

Ellis stepped toward him. “You shouldn’t have called!”

“Why the hell not?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Adam, think!”

Vargas stared up at him.

“We lost Austin twenty-four hours ago and we wait until now to call?”
Ellis said. “Why the hell would we wait that long? Don’t you think that is the first thing they are asking themselves?”

“So what if they are?”

Ellis slammed the phone down onto a table. “You gave us away, man! They know now you saw him go in that house. That means they know we can see that house right this minute! Why the hell do you think they turned the lights off?”

Ellis went back to
the window, cracked the blind, and looked back at the street. “Fuck, man, in about two minutes, this whole street is going to be filled with fucking cops.”

Vargas just stood there, his eyes tearing up.
Fuck. Damn it. Fuck. Fuck.

Ellis let the blind go. “Come on, we’re getting out of here.”

“How?” Vargas asked. “We’re on a damn island. One way in, one way out. How are we going to get that pizza car back to your car and then get over the causeway?”

Ellis hesitated. “We’ll have to leave my car because we’re not taking the pizza car anywhere. Or the old folks’ car. We’re taking their boat.”

“What?”

“This house is on a canal, Adam,” Ellis said. “I saw it the other day. I saw the boat
, too.”

Ellis was looking around the living room. “You sure you didn’t touch anything without your gloves on?”

Vargas was silent, his head down.

“Adam!”

Vargas looked up.

“Did you touch anything in here without gloves?”

Vargas shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Ellis stared at him for a long time. “Go out back and get in the damn boat. I’ll be right there.”

Vargas nodded and left the house through the back door. He walked to the small dock and waited, folding his arms over his chest. He felt a few drops of rain on his neck and he started to shiver.

The only light in the kitchen came from a single candle on the table. Louis could barely see Susan’s face, but he could see the flicker of the flame reflected in her dark eyes, eyes that were singed with an anger he knew was meant for Austin.

“We need to get you out of here,” Louis said.

“No,” she said softly.

“We can’t protect you here,” Louis said. “They might be right across the street.”

“And so might Benjamin,” Susan said.

“Then what do you want me to do?”

Susan didn’t blink. “Go get them.”

Louis shook his head. “We need to wait for the Chief, and I doubt he’ll go busting into all the houses up and down the street tonight.”

“Why not?” Susan said. “If they’re close, then Ben is close. Why won’t you go look for him?”

“It’s not that easy, Susan. There are fourteen houses on this street,
a half-dozen acres of brush at the end, and a canal on the other side. They could be sitting in a boat in the mangroves over there, for all we know.”

“Excuse me, sir.”

Louis and Susan both looked up at Jewell. Louis hadn’t even realized he had been standing there in the doorway, listening.

“Sir, it’s thirty-nine degrees outside,” Jewell said. “My bet is that they’re still inside somewhere.”

Louis ignored him, leaning across the table to Susan. “Look, we’ll search the houses when Wainwright can get some more officers here, but you need to leave now.”

Susan shook her head.

Louis looked up at Jewell. “Chief say how long he’d be?”

“Another hour or so. Now he’s got an accident on the causeway. He’s in traffic.”

“This is crazy,” Susan said. “We’re sitting here in the dark, held hostage by a couple of madmen we can’t even see, and the only person who can do anything about it is tied up in traffic.”

“Look, if I knew where to look I’d go myself,” Louis said. “But I can’t go blindly charging into these houses, Susan.”
He went to the counter to pour himself another cup of coffee.

He knew he shouldn’t snap at her like that, but he couldn’t work a miracle here. What she was asking was crazy and dangerous. And stupid.

“Sir, can I say something?” Jewell asked.

Louis sat down with his coffee. “Go ahead.”

“I think we could narrow our search if we took a look at the possibilities.”

“What do you mean?”

Jewell opened his notebook. “This afternoon, Ms. Outlaw gave me the names, ages, and descriptions of all the neighbors she knew. We could go over the list and determine which ones might be more vulnerable than others and check those houses first.”

“Let me see that,” Louis said.

Jewell handed Louis the notebook. Louis scanned the rundown: a young married couple in the pink house, two guys directly across the street, three more young couples, a single attorney, two elderly couples, and a vacant green house three doors down on the opposite side of the street.

Louis stood up, motioning Jewell to follow him. When he reached for the front door, Jewell caught his arm.

“Are you going out there to see which houses had a view of you when you were coming in?” Jewell asked.

Louis nodded.

“If you don’t mind, sir, you might let me do that. They might shoot at you.”

Louis hesitated then stepped aside, letting Jewell go out onto the porch. Louis spoke to him through a crack in the door.

“Can you see the empty green house from here?”

“Yes, sir. Clear view.”

“Okay, what about that one with the blue shutters? It belongs to an old couple.”

“No, sir. Bushes and trees obstruct their view.”

Louis marked it off.

“What about the other old couple
, five houses down on the other side. Pink flamingos in the yard.”

“It’d take good eyes but, yes, you can see it
well
enough.” Louis talked him through several more, then Jewell came back inside.

“The empty house is our best shot,” Louis said.

“What’s our next best guess?” Jewell asked.

“The house with elderly folks in it, at the end of the road, with the flamingos,” Louis said. He could feel Susan’s eyes on him and he turned to her.

“So now you know where to start,” she said.

“I’m not going out there alone, Susan.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jewell said.

“No, then she’s alone.”

Susan glanced up at the bookshelf where Jewell had placed her revolver. But then she sank onto the sofa, her hands clasped.

“Jewell,” Louis said, “call the Chief and tell him about the empty house.”

Jewell moved away and Louis stayed at the curtain, his eyes traveling up and down the quiet street. In the glow of the street lights, the raindrops looked like falling glitter in the cold night air.

The street seemed frozen. Lifeless.

He heard Jewell come back to the door. “Chief says he’ll get some backup from the sheriff and be here as soon as he can. He’s bringing someone to tap the phone.”

Louis nodded. “What else did you write in that book?”

“What do you mean?”

“Tell me what these people were doing, when they left, who came over.”

Jewell’s penlight clicked on. “The guys both work day shift and they got home tonight around six,” he said. “I saw the red-haired lady walk her dog, the guy next door to her was in his garage for a while today.”

Louis was listening but his gaze remained on the street
. Nothing was moving. Only three lights on the whole street.

Jewell was still talking. “The red-haired lady picked up her newspaper at four, the old folks with
the flamingos got a pizza about thirty minutes ago, the guys had a visitor at seven -— they seemed to know him —- and the red-haired lady came out again —-”

“Wait
,” Louis said. He was remembering the phone call he had made to Wainwright at the cottage. Wainwright had said he was delayed because he was wrapping up a call on a missing delivery guy.

Louis turned to Jewell. “Who got the pizza?”

“The old folks with the flamingos.”

“Did you see the pizza man leave the house?”

“Sure. He walked to the door and came out a few minutes later.”

“Anything else happen at the house after that?”

Jewell looked back at his book. “Yeah, about ten minutes later someone came home in a dark compact car, used the garage opener, and pulled inside.”

“Did
the dark compact look anything like the pizza delivery car?”

Jewell looked down again, then up at Louis. “I don’t remember, sir. I just noticed
the pizza sign lit up on top of the car, not the make or model.”

“What was the name of the pizza company?”

“Pepe’s.”

Louis looked back at Susan. “Get me their number.”

“It’s Ben’s favorite. I have it memorized,” she said, going to the kitchen.

She brought him
the phone, the number already dialed. But there was no answer. Louis looked up at the clock. They were closed.

“Jewell, you guys have a missing delivery man,” Louis said. “Call in and see where he worked.”

Jewell radioed the station. Louis heard the response --Pepe’s Pizza.

“It’s not the empty house,” Louis said. “It’s the old folks at the end of the street. It has to be.”

Louis repositioned himself to get a better look at the flamingo house. He could barely see the place from here. There were no lights in the front windows and no cars in the drive. The garage door was closed.

If they were in there, there was a good chance Ben was, too. But what did they want? What were they waiting for? And why had they announced their presence with a phone call?

“Sir, what are we going to do? Wait for more units?”

Louis shook his head. “I don’t want half-a-dozen sirens screaming down this street. If these guys had the balls to call, they might think they’re safe and I don’t want them running.”

“So what do we do? Wait?” Jewell asked.

“No, you don’t wait. You go,” Susan said, coming forward. “Damn it, Louis, if you don’t go, I will.”

He ignored her. “Jewell, get us some backup but have them park on another block and walk in under cover. And tell them to get Wainwright on the phone now."

Susan was at his arm. “That will take too long!”

He took her by the shoulders and started to walk her back to the sofa, but she twisted away from him.

“Stop treating me like a child!” she said.

“Then stop being crazy, for crissakes,” Louis said. “You want to get me killed? And your son?”

She stiffened, drawing back her shoulders.
Her lips quivered but she was nowhere near crying. She hated him right now and he knew it. Hated him for not somehow being able to prevent all this from happening. Hated him for being cautious. For being human.

“If it was your son, you wouldn’t wait,” she said.

He could only look at her, afraid if he said anything, he would regret it. Neither of them moved.

“Sir?”

Louis didn’t look at Jewell, his eyes locked on Susan. Finally, she turned away and moved to the kitchen. He watched her take hold of a chair and lean into it, her head down.

“Sir?”

“What?” Louis said.

“The garage light went on at the flamingo house.”

Louis went back to the window. The garage door was closed but he could see light through the little windows. Then the light went out.

They were leaving.
Damn it. Damn it to hell.

He turned and grabbed
the revolver off the bookshelf. Susan was coming back into the room and he held the gun out to her.

“
Take this and go sit in the closet,” Louis said. “Shoot anyone who won’t identify himself.”