The Bear Page 3

  The plan for the next morning was to begin working on the outside of the place. The previous owners had left more than a month before, paying for the property to be mowed once a week and nothing more.

  A task that had been attacked by the landscapers with about as much aplomb as that of the movers.

  After so much neglect, tall weeds grew thick at the base of every tree in the yard. The front hedges were ragged, their tops standing at various heights. Leaves from the previous fall were still piled in the drainage ditches framing either side.

  Which was how Reed now found himself on the way into town. In the back of the SUV sat an old towel lined with fuel cans, each assigned to a particular lawn care tool. Not wanting to sacrifice any time in the morning to make the drive to the local filling station, his father had insisted they fuel up before turning in for the night.

  And then he had promptly fallen asleep in his chair after dinner.

  Knowing that sleep was still hours away at best, rest of any form coming in short supply over the last month, Reed had waited until just after dark before loading up the cans and making the short drive. Splayed out across the backseat behind him was Billie, her chin flat on the soft cloth seat, her eyelids beginning to droop.

  Around them swirled the warm evening air, the faint scent of fumes rising from the cans.

  All of which served as little more than background noise in Reed’s mind, his thoughts still fixated on the earlier conversation and everything that was still unspoken.

  Despite what he had told his mother, nothing about his life at the moment was good. While he was glad to be helping his parents and seeing their new place, the last weeks had taken a toll on him and Billie both.

  They were detectives. Not only by trade, but by choice, and by identity. Working cases wasn’t just a way to fill the hours, it was how they designated themselves in society. It wasn’t the need to carry a badge or gun; it was the desire to feel involved, to feel that they were making a difference.

  To have a reason to get up and a place to go each day.

  Hell, it was even how they’d come to know and trust each other.

  In the wake of the original decision, Reed had been too exhausted, too relieved at the outcome of his previous case, to fight it. Never thinking that it would stick, he had taken his captain’s advice and gone home to his farmhouse outside the city for the weekend.

  It was when that weekend had stretched to a week, and then to a second week, that things had started to unravel. Relief became frustration, which grew further into anger.

  Sitting still was something Reed was never especially good at, that very thing being no small part of what led him toward law enforcement. He needed to be active, to be involved. And he knew Billie was the same way, her display in the backyard that afternoon proving as much.

  Collectively, they were beginning to go stir crazy, a state that didn’t suit either one of them.

  Deep in thought, Reed turned from the country two-lane onto Main Street, following the instructions he’d gotten from his phone before departing. Slowing his pace, he rolled forward through town, the front façades to either side largely what he envisioned. Never before had he been to Warner, though it resembled dozens of other prairie towns he’d visited over the years, the place a snapshot from a different era.

  A place where the fast food restaurants and chain hotels were clustered up along the highway but hadn’t yet made it into the city proper. In their stead were local bed-and-breakfasts and independent diners. A thrift store operated by the neighborhood church. A craft and sewing shop that was open in four-hour shifts five afternoons a week.

  Nothing stood taller than three floors. Everything was made of brick or recently painted wood. Flowers lined many of the mulch beds. American flags hung limp above storefronts.

  Staring out at it, Reed couldn’t begin to beat back the notion of how different the place was from where he and Billie usually spent their evenings.

  “Damned sure not in The Bottoms anymore, are we?” he whispered.

  Chapter Seven

  Thirteen years, Reed Mattox had worked in law enforcement. The majority of that had been as a detective, the time spent chasing some of the more depraved society possessed exposing him to things he’d never thought humans capable of.

  Things he still occasionally saw when he went to sleep at night. Memories he didn’t want and would never have the slightest use for.

  And imparting skills that most people walking the street simply didn’t have.

  Skills such as knowing exactly what gunpowder smelled like as it lingered in the air in the wake of a shooting. Or how to differentiate a truck backfiring from an automatic weapon when standing on a busy street. Or the size and shape and density of a kilo of cocaine wrapped for transport, no matter the paper covering it.

  And knowing in an instant the amount of duress that a person was under just by hearing their scream.

  Standing outside the Sinclair Station on the east end of Main Street, Reed already had the rear hatch of the SUV open, the trio of fuel cans he’d brought with him lined up on the ground. In his hand was the unleaded gas nozzle, his credit card already in the pump and authorized.

  Still sitting in the backseat, Billie had opted against climbing out with him. Instead, she had raised herself onto her front paws, content to sit in the confines of the vehicle and watch him work.

  The world was quiet, the air warm. Aside from the combined glare of neon and overhead lights of the filling station, most of Warner was already tucked in for the night, twilight giving way to darkness.

  Small town contentment, shattered in an instant.

  The moment the scream pierced the tranquility of the evening, years of training, of muscle memory, sprang to the fore. Dropping into a crouch, Reed felt a jolt of electricity ripple through his core. His knees flexed as his head jerked toward the sound of the cry, his left hand releasing its grip on the nozzle and letting it fall to the ground with a clatter, his right hand instinctively reaching for his hip.

  No longer was he simply a visitor, just another person enjoying the niceties of a sleepy prairie town on a late spring evening. Nor was he a curious bystander, wondering what he had just heard.

  Palpitations traveled across his chest as Reed peered down the length of Main Street, seeing nothing. Shifting his focus to the alley running along the side of the station parking lot, he heard not another sound save for that of Billie scrambling over the rear bench seat in the SUV. Forcing her body between the top of it and the ceiling of the vehicle, she bounded to the floor of the trunk before leaping over the fuel cans, by his side in less than three seconds.

  Assuming the same stance as her handler, she pressed in tight to his calf, legs tensed, teeth bared.

  His body poised, ready for action, Reed ran his fingers back over his right hip. Feeling nothing save for the gym shorts he was wearing, his mind rifled through what he knew, assessing his situation.

  He had no gun. He had no phone. He had no jurisdiction.

  And he didn’t give a damn about any of that.

  Jerking his head toward the front window of the station, he could see a lone clerk standing behind the counter. A young man not far removed from high school, he peered out at Reed from beneath a thick curtain of curly hair, his jaw sagging open.

  “Call 911!” Reed yelled, rocking his weight back one time before blasting forward off the ball of his foot. In unison, Billie did the same, the pads of her feet landing silent against the concrete as she hurtled forward.

  Within three strides, both were at a full sprint.

  Arms and legs pumping hard, Reed cut a diagonal across the Sinclair parking lot. Covering it in mere seconds, he bounded from the brushed concrete onto crumbling asphalt, his lungs fighting for air.

  Unsure where he was headed or what he would find there, it took only moments to answer both as the source of the cry came into focus the instant he rounded the corner.

  The alley was no more than eighty yards
long, carved between buildings standing tight on either side. In such narrow confines, nearly all ambient light was blocked from view, leaving Reed and Billie running in complete shadow. At the far end of the alley, a pair of red brake lights glowed bright, making the long black silhouette moving through them that much more pronounced.

  Formed like the bottom half of the letter K, it took Reed a moment to decipher what he was looking at. Fighting through his initial adrenaline, he focused as he ran, able to discern one person standing upright, tugging another backward. Completely inert, there was no effort to aid or hinder by the latter, whoever it was completely at the mercy of the former.

  “Hey!” Reed yelled, raising a hand before him. “Stop!”

  Beneath his feet, the earth was a mix of concrete shards and gravel, his shoes biting into it, propelling him forward. Billie pulled ahead beside him, the two cutting the distance from eighty to seventy yards, continuing to move to within sixty.

  “Wait! Police!” Reed cried out, his voice deep and resonant, echoing from the brick walls crowded tight to either side.

  Not that his admonishments did anything, the silhouette deposited whomever they were dragging into the rear of the van. Pausing just long enough to grab the handle of the sliding side door, they jerked it shut with one mighty pull, the sound of it slamming home echoing out.

  His teeth clamped, Reed forewent calling out again. He had already told them to cease and had identified himself as a police officer. There was no point in doing so again, his sole focus getting to the end of the alley, stopping them before they made it to the driver’s seat and drove away.

  A goal with only one clear shot at coming to pass.

  “Hold!” Reed barked, extending the word to several syllables in length, echoing from the brick to either side.

  On cue, the word sent renewed purpose through Billie. Shifting into an extra gear, she pushed further ahead of him still, a barely visible black specter tearing onward as she bounded through the narrow space.

  Not that it ultimately mattered.

  By the time Reed and his partner made it to the end of the alley, the van was already pulling down the street, all lights turned off, rendering it nothing more than a dark shape being swallowed by the night.

  Chapter Eight

  Seven times.

  Seven times The Bear had scouted that alleyway. He’d used different angles, sat in different vehicles. Once he’d been pumping gas at the Sinclair Station. Another he’d even rented a room at the cheap motel down the street.

  The night before, he’d gone so far as to force down one of the worst meals of his life at the diner where the girl worked.

  Never had he seen anybody else present.

  And never would he have imagined the girl screaming, putting up a fight the way she did.

  Seated behind the steering wheel, The Bear clenched it in both hands. Positioned at ten and two, he squeezed tight, the polished wooden ring tiny inside his fists.

  Clamping as hard as he could, he held the position until blood engorged his forearms, his veins standing out along the backs of his hands. Until his knuckles flashed white beneath his skin, threatening to burst forth, before finally releasing his grip.

  Not until he did so did he even realize he’d been holding his breath. Already, his heart was pounding and sweat was dripping down his cheeks, disappearing into his beard.

  His shirt and hat were both rimmed with perspiration, sticking to his skin.

  There was always one thing that seemed to go awry, but never multiple things, and never something like that. A veritable shitshow from start to finish, no less than a half-dozen things had gone off course.

  One after another, The Bear ticked them off in his mind, each ratcheting the self-loathing he felt, sending his trepidation into the stratosphere.

  Alternating his gaze in equal time, The Bear checked the speedometer before glancing to the driver’s side mirror, the rearview mirror, and the passenger side mirror. With each shift, he could practically imagine the lights of a police cruiser appearing behind him, flashing blue and red, forcing him to the side of the road.

  With his heart thundering in his chest, The Bear forced down his every urge to speed away, making himself maintain control.

  The man that had called out to him and demanded that he stop had identified himself as a police officer, but there was likely nothing more to that than posturing. The Bear knew the only two officers who worked the streets of Warner by sight, and he knew the only one on duty tonight was still sitting at the station on the other end of town.

  He’d driven by on his way in just to check.

  Likely, whoever had heard the scream and had tried to chase him down was nothing more than a concerned citizen. A do-gooder out taking his dog for a stroll who tried to get involved.

  But that didn’t mean they hadn’t immediately called the police, tremendously cutting down whatever lead time The Bear had.

  Again, his attention went back to the mirrors as he drove beyond the edge of town.

  “Breathe,” he whispered, using his grip on the steering wheel for leverage and rocking his body forward. “Breathe.”

  The plates on the van were throwaways, picked up at a junkyard in Tulsa. The van itself would be hidden from sight soon enough, unlikely to emerge anytime in the near future.

  All he had to do was stay the course. Trust his preparation. The pickup had not been clean, but he could live with it.

  Getting what he wanted had a way of doing that.

  Lifting his attention to the rearview mirror, The Bear angled it down into the space behind him.

  In the semi-light of the van, the girl was pitched sideways, her limbs splayed toward the door, having not moved an inch since he’d deposited her before jumping in himself. Unconscious, her head lulled to the side, her dark hair framing her face like a misshapen halo.

  Along her left cheek ran a thick tendril of blood which moved due south for more than an inch before retreating to the side and disappearing into her dark mane.

  Lifting his right hand to his face, The Bear placed his middle knuckle between his lips. Flicking his tongue out over it, he could taste the salty bile of her blood, feel the sting where his own skin had split.

  Such a move wasn’t what tonight was supposed to have been about, but that’s how it had gone. If she hadn’t looked up from her phone when she did, if he had gotten there a step sooner and clamped a hand over her mouth, keeping her from calling out, things would have been different.

  Not that it would end up mattering in the end; the girl needed to learn one way or another.

  He’d just been hoping to enjoy the initial contact a little more, was all.

  Chapter Nine

  Reed was still standing at the head of the alley when the flashing blue and red lights of a police cruiser appeared on the far end. Easing into the Sinclair parking lot, the bright glare could be seen refracting off the brick façades of the buildings lining the alley as the vehicle pulled broadside across it.

  Feeling his eyes narrow slightly to block out some of the glare, Reed remained rooted in place. By his feet sat Billie, her haunches flat to the ground, her ears upright above her head.

  In the wake of the van disappearing from sight a few minutes earlier, Reed had sprinted back the length of the alley. He’d checked in with the clerk to make sure that he had called for help as instructed and returned the gas nozzle to the pump.

  From there, he had paused long enough to grab a flashlight from the glove compartment of the SUV before heading down to his current location.

  Given the size of the town and the time of night, he had been prepared to wait as long as fifteen minutes until police assistance arrived.

  To his surprise, it was closer to eight minutes before the cruiser he was now staring at had appeared. Positioned to block anybody from entering the alley, it sat without movement.

  Imagining that whoever was behind the wheel was probably running the license plate on his parent’s SUV, he
was content to sit as long as it took. At no point during whatever he had just witnessed did he hear a gunshot or feel in the least bit threatened. He hadn’t seen a single person out walking the streets, much less could he imagine anybody coming back.

  Even in The Bottoms – the moniker given to his jurisdiction back in Columbus – where crime rates were among the highest in the state, the times were very few when the presence of Billie alone wasn’t enough to make him feel secure.

  Tonight, she was more than sufficient.

  Four minutes after the arrival of the police cruiser, the driver’s side door opened on the far side of the vehicle. At the sound of its hinges moaning, Reed felt Billie tense slightly beside him, his fingers reaching for the thick fur between her ears.

  On contact, he could feel the underlying muscle twitch. As Billie leaned in tighter against Reed’s leg, neither of them made another movement as the top half of a shadow appeared on the far side of the vehicle.

  Moving toward the rear, it paused for a moment alongside the bumper, seemingly debating whether to head inside or visit the scene first, before turning toward the alley. Raising a hand to shoulder height, the officer clicked on a flashlight, extending a thin beam of light the length of the narrow space.

  In response, Reed raised his as well, giving the rubber stopper on the end two quick pulses to alert the officer to his presence before extinguishing it.

  Only on rare occasion before had Reed ever been a party to a crime committed outside of his jurisdiction. In nearly every instance, it had been in connection to an active investigation, always somewhere in the greater Columbus area.

  Usually, that meant putting in a request to his captain and asking him to call ahead and clear a path. He would then let the neighboring jurisdiction know where Reed was and why, requesting cooperation or possibly even assistance.

  Here and now, he couldn’t be certain how receptive the locals would be to his presence. Not only was he outside his precinct lines, but he was also well beyond the state in which he operated.