Bullet in the Night Read online

  Nick edged closer. “What is it?”

  “Something caught.” I pulled a glove from my pocket, slipped it on and reached up pulling a tiny rectangle of cloth from under a leafy branch. It had green thorns on it that I removed one by one.

  “Looks like a clothing label.” Nick read, “’Members Only’ A popular brand. Maybe it got plucked by this branch as the sniper ducked under, that is, if it was already loose to begin with. Otherwise the tugging would have been noticeable.”

  I studied the tag. “Maybe there was the sound of a tear, maybe not. You can’t stop if you’re rushing away from a crime scene. Lots of branches the shooter would have brushed against, maybe even got caught on. The missing label probably wouldn’t be noticed afterwards.”

  “If it was here after the sniper attack, why didn’t the police find it?” Nick helped me put it in the plastic bag I brought.

  “It was blocked by all these leafy branches. During the day it’d be harder to see. The darkness accentuates the white. When the police searched the area, the white was less obvious.” I put my arm around Nick’s shoulder. “So it is good we came tonight. I’m lucky I happened to catch it in the flashlight beam. I doubt the shooter knew it came off.”

  “Wait a second, Jennifer, we’re making assumptions. This could be anybody’s, even from a policeman’s jacket.”

  I frowned. “Like they wear Members Only?” I turned the slightly off-white, inch-high label over searching for a size. “Perhaps it came off an unzipped jacket or maybe he got hot and took it off and carried it.”

  “One point in favor of this being left the night of Lenora’s shooting is it couldn’t have been outside long or it’d be more battered.”

  “You’re right. The timing is perfect.” I adjusted my cap.

  The soft murmur of a motor drew our attention to car lights moving slowly across the road beneath.

  I froze. “The creeping car is back again. This time with lights.”

  Nick grabbed my hand. “Someone checking on us?”

  I snapped my flashlight off. “Put out your light. We don’t want anyone seeing us,” I whispered. We remained still a few minutes until the car was no longer visible.

  Nick nudged me. “Let’s finish up. Since you picked up the label on the right side of the fork, we’ll look around some more there.”

  We flipped our flashlights back on. The trail twined around raspberry bushes with thick green underbrush filling gaps between them. I stopped at a spot where brush had been pushed to one side.

  “Nick, why do you suppose Lenora’s assailant didn’t get closer to the house to make sure he or she didn’t miss?”

  Nick shrugged. “Too much risk. Or maybe supremely confident of his or her shooting ability.”

  “Okay, I’ve seen enough. Let’s head back.”

  The trip going down was harder because of the wet, slippery leaves.

  We were halfway back to the car when a shot split the night air.

  “Hit the ground,” Nick yelled.

  No need to give orders. I’d already plunged to the earth.

  Nick dropped on top of me. Moist leaves pressed into my face. My heart beat so fast, it pulsated against the earth. I feared I’d pass out.

  Another bullet ricocheted off a tree near us.

  “That was too close.” Nick’s hot breath panted against my neck.

  Then silence. We waited. I lost all sense of time.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I think so,” I said, trembling.

  Leaves crackled and branches snapped just below us as someone raced through the woods. I sprang up and took off toward the sound. Nick was right on my heels.

  He yelled, “What are you doing? We’re not armed. This is ridiculous. We’ll never catch up.”

  “I want to see the car down there.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?” Nick charged out in front of me.

  I slid down the hill and fell headfirst, barely missing hitting my head on a rock. Nick returned to help me up. Leaves clung to my jeans. The gloves protected my hands from what would have been bloody scratches.

  The car below turned on its motor and pulled away without turning its lights on. “Strange.” I strained to see the make of the car. It was too dark and far away.

  “Jennifer, this escapade is dangerous. Somebody just tried to kill us.”

  “Or scare us enough into quitting.”

  I struggled for breath and checked my pocket for the label.

  “Not a chance I’m giving up now.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Nick and I drove in silence to the police station to report the shooting. On top of his displeasure over our evening hike, I knew he had to be starving. The aroma of burger and fries inside somebody’s office made my mouth water too.

  I didn’t waste time going into detail about what we were doing in the woods, only spit out the main points about the shots. The sergeant, curt and efficient, was non-committal as he listened. I’m not sure why, but I chose to not mention the label and fortunately neither did Nick.

  The officer handed Nick paper and a pencil. He drew a rough map, showing our location in relation to the area where the shots were fired. “You should have no trouble finding bullets in daylight.”

  The sergeant sighed and grumbled but filled out a report and promised to investigate. “We’ve had some young gang members infiltrating our area. Kids take pot shots to scare people. We’ll get right on it but don’t expect we’ll turn up much. These kids are a smart, nasty bunch.”

  On our way out, I poked Nick. “Do you think they’ll follow through?”

  “They have to at least make a semblance, but after what he said, it may be a waste of time.”

  * * *

  After an uneventful work day, the next evening I returned home as Estelle was packing her cleaning rags following her monthly, deep scrubbing visit. The house smelled deliciously of bleach and furniture polish, two of my favorite scents after Red Door perfume.

  “Almost done, Dr. Trevor. I’ll be out of your way soon as I finish and return the vacuum cleaner and supplies to the utility room.” She twisted the vacuum cord around its hooks.

  “After I change I’m headed there also, to put in a load of laundry.”

  As I filled the washing machine, Estelle shelved her cleaning items. We chatted briefly about our children.

  Out of the blue she turned to me and said, “Funny you and Mrs. Lawrence don’t lock your office like Mr. Lawrence and you got all those important personal papers.”

  I dropped in two more towels as I responded automatically. “Estelle, we lock our counseling files in cabinets. It’s the law. It’s not necessary to lock doors to our home offices if our files are locked.”

  “Mr. Lawrence’s office in the basement has got double locks. I don’t go near it.”

  I stopped midair pouring soap into the machine. How would she know that unless she’d tried to get in? “Estelle, will you repeat what you said.”

  “I’m not allowed to clean the locked basement room Mr. Lawrence uses for his home office. Seems a bit peculiar. I can’t help wonder why. But then, I expect his research is real private and important.”

  “Estelle, why are you telling me this?”

  “No reason. For sure I wouldn’t be questioning his doings, but there sure is a bunch of noise that comes outta that room sometimes.”

  I couldn’t get her words out of my head after we returned to the kitchen, and I wrote out her paycheck. “Thanks. Goodnight Estelle.”

  My cell phone vibrated. Nick’s name appeared. Estelle waved as she exited.

  The voice I loved more than any other flowed through the air. “Don’t hold dinner for me, sweetie.”

  I slumped. “What’s up?”

  “The deposition ran over, and we ordered in sandwiches. I’ll be home around nine unless I can compress this report and finish sooner.”

  “No problem.”

  “Don’t be upset.”

  Did my voice
sound testy?

  After ending the call with Nick, I tossed together a dinner of chili and brown rice with corn bread. I decided to put together a plate of food for Tucker to take over later.

  The children settled into their homework at the dining room table, no TV on school nights. I was a stickler on that. I sat with them and opened my brief case. The hum of mental activity was in the air.

  The atmosphere was perfect for writing client discharge paperwork, but my brain wouldn’t focus. So much for using the evening for catch-up.

  I stood and stretched. “I’ll be gone about half an hour, kids. Tell dad, if he gets back early that I went to Tucker Lawrence’s to drop off dinner for him.”

  It was light outside, and I’d be back by dusk. No concern. Right? Wrong.

  My dinner gesture wasn’t totally altruistic. On the drive over, I recalled Tucker’s hovering when I was at the house. What Estelle shared about a locked room on the lower level intrigued me. This conscientious woman’s curiosity had transferred to me. I recalled what it did to cats.

  As university staff, Tucker would have an office on campus. So why have one at home with papers important enough to lock up? What kind of research project was he working on?

  I had no reason to be suspicious of his activities. I scolded myself.

  Maybe Tucker’s offhand comment the other day was right. Had the sniper meant to shoot him, not Lenora?

  When I arrived at Lenora’s, Tucker’s car wasn’t in the driveway. I knocked just to be sure it wasn’t in the garage.

  No answer. I twisted the doorknob. It opened with no resistance. Unlocked? So much for a man who has something to hide. Under the circumstances, I considered it an invitation to march in and leave the dinner I’d brought.

  I deposited his dinner in the nearly empty fridge then searched through the twenty plus things in my purse for my notepad and pen to inform him I’d left a meal for him.

  The silence of the house was broken by a loud thud, as if something fell from a high perch. The sound came from downstairs and was loud enough to startle me. Lenora didn’t have a dog or cat. Was Tucker home after all? Why hadn’t I checked the garage for a car?

  I called his name and waited.

  No answer. Had I imagined the sound?

  I pulled my tiny notepad and pen from my purse, dashed off a note, and placed it on the kitchen table.

  As if on cue, the thudding echoed again from downstairs like an object dropping. I called out Tucker’s name again.

  I collected my courage. Maybe a door had blown open. If so, I should go down and close it. I approached the stairs off the kitchen and tiptoed down. I’d never been on the lower level. Estelle had said the office was down here. Maybe Tucker was inside and hadn’t heard my calls.

  When I reached the last stair, although the light was dim, I could make out several rooms: storage, laundry, and the largest, a billiard room, were open. My gaze fell upon a closed door at the other end of the large area. Could that be Tucker’s office? I worked my way through baskets and pool cues and tried the door. Locked. I jiggled the handle, and a thudding noise sounded inside. I shivered.

  Perhaps an outside window had a shutter banging. I struggled to get my mental bearings and visualize the external structure of the house.

  Suddenly a door slammed above me. Footsteps bounded straight down the stairs.

  My feet locked on the floor. Seconds later, hot air breathed onto the back of my neck, and I whirled around and stared into Tucker’s wide eyes.

  “Why, hello,” I stammered. “I heard a noise and decided to check. I mean, I came down here looking for you.” My face was hot all over. I am so completely non-cool when flustered. “I’ve brought you dinner.”

  His eyebrows lifted. He looked at my empty hands.

  “It’s in the refrigerator,” I blurted. “I understand from Estelle you have a home office in the lower level and a loud noise seemed to come from down here...” Stupid chatter.

  A weird look crossed his face. I couldn’t define it. His eyes bored into me. “Let’s check.” He withdrew a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door before us.

  My heart was in my throat. He grasped my wrist and said simply, “We’ll look together.”

  Tucker reached into the room, flicked the light switch, and gently pushed me forward.

  It took several seconds for my eyes to adjust to the fluorescent light and fasten on a huge snake slithering along the floor toward me. I did a double take, gasped, and jumped back. Another reptile curled up in a ball next to a carton on a table. A discarded snakeskin lay coiled in the corner of the room.

  My mouth fell open, my vocal chords paralyzed. I was a lousy screamer, or I might have broken Tucker’s eardrums.

  “You don’t like my pets?” An amused expression played around the corners of his mouth.

  “It’s not often I’m at a loss for words, Tucker,” I whispered. “Had you prepared me, I might have handled this better. I don’t appreciate your bizarre sense of humor.”

  “Annabelle’s restless. When she’s active, she often knocks things down.”

  “That’s the sound I heard.”

  “She probably bumped something. She gets to eat tonight. You can watch. It’s an occasion. Snakes only eat once every seven to ten days.”

  Tucker strode past me to the large cabinet against the wall.

  I watched dumbstruck.

  He picked up a snake that had stretched itself across the chair. “Here she is.” Annabelle made no effort to recoil and seemed to relish the attention. Tucker advanced toward me. “Isn’t she adorable? Some snakes live twenty years as pets.”

  “Stop!” I shouted with the gusto of a football coach now. “No closer.”

  “Jennifer, don’t scare my sweet snakes. Annabelle won’t hurt you.”

  If the snake slithered up my arm, I might go into apoplexy.

  Pleasure was written all over Tucker’s face. He appeared to be stifling a grin as he savored my revulsion.

  “Won’t it get out?”

  “The top of this cage is weighted so the snakes can’t push it open.”

  I gulped. “Do you buy these in a pet store?”

  “Most are special order.”

  “Isn’t owning these snakes against the law?”

  “Only one of my eleven snakes is poisonous—the Diamondback rattlesnake from northern Wisconsin.” Tucker pointed to a cage in the far corner. “I have a special permit from the Department of Natural Resources to keep the rattler for scientific research.”

  “But, is it safe to keep it in a private home?”

  Tucker shook his head. “The rattlesnake is in a padlocked vivarium. If it should get out and bite, the person would have to be allergic or unable to get an immediate antidote in order to die from the venom.”

  “How comforting.” A stone clattered off the ledge rimming the room.

  “Be careful, Annabelle.”

  I glanced around. The cages had labels with each snake’s name and classification.

  “Annabelle’s on the prowl for food. Usually snakes are quite complacent but get agitated when hungry.”

  Tucker pulled a heavy cardboard box from under a counter. I stood mesmerized as he opened the lid. Inside seven white mice scurried around helter-skelter. He turned the box on its side, removed the perforated metal mesh top of the glass cage, and shook the mice into it. “Dinnertime. Sorry, mice, time to die.”

  I squealed. “You’re some kind of masochist.”

  He appeared offended. “Nature’s food cycle, Jennifer.”

  “I know, but…”

  “Watch closely or you’ll miss it.” He never took his eyes off the ghastly, fascinating event. With a quick, barely perceptible move, the snake strangled and ingested each mouse in one smooth swallow. All seven mice were gone within seconds.

  Finally, he placed the satiated snake in a glass-sided cage on the floor.

  If it hadn’t been more than an hour since I’d eaten, I’m sure I’d hav
e been sick.

  “The warming brick in the cage helps Annabelle with digestion. Like that shiny skin? You’d be surprised how dull it gets when about to be shed.”

  Good grief. Tucker was giving me a science lesson. He continued, “Sometimes they shed every couple weeks, really depends on how fast a snake is growing.”

  Tucker affectionately picked up another reptile, a Florida Kingsnake, to fondle. My prior knowledge was zero, and I didn’t welcome today’s learning experience.

  “This little guy will be about six feet. Want to hold King?”

  “No thanks. Your snakes are incredible, just not my thing, sorry. Plus my children need to be tucked into bed. I can find my way out.” I inched to the door careful where I stepped. “I hope you enjoy the dinner I brought, nothing fancy, but it is home-cooked.”

  “Great, I’m starved. Thanks for your kindness.” Tucker returned the Kingsnake to its cage. “I’m sorry you don’t like them.” His mouth turned down, and his voice trailed off.

  I waited while he shut the door to the snake room and followed me. “I prefer pets that bark or meow and have legs.”

  “I selected snakes because I’m away a lot, and they don’t need daily care.” He winked. “I don’t tell our friends about my herpetology hobby. Lenora was concerned our housekeeper, Estelle, would be squeamish being here with them. She doesn’t even know they’re here. I keep the room locked. You wouldn’t know either if you hadn’t wandered downstairs.”

  “Never in my wildest fantasy would I picture you with an eighteen-foot Burmese snake crawling on your lap.” I started up the steps. “Does Lenora interact with them?”

  “It took time, but she got used to them. She rather likes them now, in fact.”

  “Seriously, don’t you think it’s dangerous? Somebody might have a heart attack just seeing them. I almost did.”

  “I keep them tucked away for their safety so no one steps on them accidentally. They roam the house freely only when I’m home alone.”

  The thought of putting my foot on one of these creatures in the dark appalled me.

  Tucker added, “It’s a shame the snakes weren’t out the night Lenora was killed. Kirk might have thought twice.”