Still, that comment about the “monsters” wouldn’t leave her alone. She couldn’t help but feel it had something to do with the missing people and that body bag back at Dr. Castle’s. She knocked again. “Hello? This is Chief Sandy Chisel. Anybody here call nine-one-one?”
Still no answer.
She tried the front door. It was open. As inept as the county guys could be, she didn’t think they would ever go off and leave the house of a crime scene unlocked. She pushed the door open a few inches. Called out, “Hello?” as she gently unsnapped her holster.
She pushed the door but remained on the porch. The door swung open all the way, revealing a living room exactly the same as she remembered. Her gaze lingered on the kitchen doorway. Something was blocking the bottom of the doorway. Something big, like a metal box. She realized it was the fridge, lying on its side.
Maybe someone had broken in, maybe kicked their way in through the back or broke a window. They could have left through the front door, which explained why it wasn’t locked. Still trying to figure out the scenarios, she stepped inside, intent on the overturned fridge in the kitchen.
Something popped her in the back of the head and she felt what could have been a gun barrel jammed into the side of her neck, just under her right ear. A voice said, “On the fucking floor. Now!”
Sandy never took her right hand from her pistol, but she nodded and said, “Okay, okay. No trouble.” She bent her knees, preparing to lie down.
A man’s hand closed over her right hand, going for the pistol. She could tell it was his left hand because his right was holding his gun. He had been waiting to the right of the door, and was now behind her. That meant he was off-balance. So she dropped, tucking her head into her shoulder and angling out of the line of fire, and whirled, kicking out with her left leg. She brought her right forearm up and deflected the barrel even farther while rolling her hips at the same time. At this point, the top of her left boot whipped around and cracked the man’s knee, knocking him further off balance. With her left hand, her thumb and forefinger found the pressure points in his left wrist, pinning it to her hip.
She crashed to the floor, landing on her back, pulling the man with her. Her right forearm continued up, sliding neatly into the groove between the man’s chest and chin, jamming her ulna bone into his throat, forcing him to land sideways next to her. He grunted harshly when he landed and Sandy rolled on top of him, driving her right knee into his groin for good measure.
She saw his eyes go wide and for the first time realized he was wearing some kind of gas mask. Not only that, he was in some biohazard suit as well. The word “monsters” flashed across her mind as she ripped the face mask off and stood up, stomping her boot down on his gun hand.
Without the mask, she recognized him as Bob Morton’s Allagro lawyer.
She pried his gun away, tossed it on Kurt’s La-Z-Boy. It didn’t look like he cared much; both hands went immediately to his groin and cupped his balls. He groaned.
Sandy gave him time to try and breathe. “We were never introduced formally, but you would be Mr. Cochran, I believe. Word gets around in a small town. Looks like you bit off more than you could chew. Should’ve known better. Been spending too much time in a suit is my guess.” She stood over him, hands on her hips. “You want to tell me what’s going on or should we head into town?”
“Fuck off.”
Sandy shrugged. “Town it is then. You can tell me later.” She put her boot on his neck, picked up his arm, torqued it, forcing him to roll over. Then she cuffed his hands.
“Wait,” he gasped. “Just wait. You take me to town, I’m a dead man.”
“That so?” Sandy wasn’t impressed.
“You don’t understand. We are out of time.”
“Maybe for you. I get the feeling you’re wasting my time.”
“Men are on their way. And we do not want to be here when they come. Why do you think I called you? Jesus Christ, you think I want law enforcement involved if I can help it?”
Sandy waited.
“Look, I’ll tell you everything. Why I’m here, all of it. Help me sit up.” She helped him lean against the coffee table. He didn’t want to look at her. “What do you know about GMOs?”
“Enough to stay out of any discussions about them in this town.”
“You know who I work for. I’m not just here to help out Bob Morton.” He started with the island, explaining what they thought had happened, including the two scientists’ theories, and even what he thought was happening to Bob Morton, all of it leading to this morning, when he had escaped the basement.
“Where did you say these things came from down there?”
“Some kind of big hole. Smelled like shit.”
The septic tank, Sandy thought. Maybe that’s where Ingrid had gone.
She snuck a quick look out of the front windows, even though she had her doubts about his story. Never hurt to be cautious. The cruiser sat out there, alone. “Seems to me,” she said slowly, “the big question here is where are all of these things that chased you through the corn? Where’s all the bugs? What happened to all of them?”
Cochran shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe they don’t like the sunlight.” He thought one of the scientists had said something about why fungus preferred dark, cool environments, and that was one of the reasons so many of them grew underground. “Look, either you believe me or you don’t. We have to get out of here. You want proof, stick your head in the basement. Leave me the keys though, so I can run like hell when you get swarmed.”
Sandy didn’t want to admit it, but he had a point. Sounded simple enough. She couldn’t lift the fridge, so all she had to do was go out back and open the cellar doors. Of course, the smart thing to do would be to call Sheriff Hoyt and get his men out here so they could take Cochran into custody, and somebody with proper equipment could check out the basement.
If things had turned out differently yesterday that’s what she would have done.
Instead, she left Cochran in the living room and took one last look out the front windows. Still empty. She went to the kitchen doorway and examined the fridge that blocked it. She wondered if she could slide it over a little, just enough to see the hole. Maybe then she could shine her flashlight down there. She knelt down, squared her shoulder into the fridge, and braced her boots on the wood floor.
“Please don’t,” Cochran said. “Please. Let’s just go.”
Something in his voice gave her pause. She eased off the fridge and lowered her head to the floor, pressed her ear against the linoleum. She couldn’t hear anything but Cochran’s ragged breathing. Then, something else.
It wasn’t coming from under the floor.
It was an engine, coming up the driveway.
Animals made Elliot’s parents nervous. Sandy hadn’t given them much choice about taking Mrs. Kobritz’s dog, though. She didn’t know how much of the news of the shooting had spread through the town, but she figured by now, everybody probably knew everything. She wanted Puffing Bill to stay with Kevin because the dog might be enough to keep people away from him. The last thing she wanted was some snotty bitch asking if he felt bad about all those people getting shot.
Puffing Bill was more than happy to remain at Kevin’s side.
After Sandy left, and they were packing up a picnic basket to take to the parade, Randy tried to convince Kevin to leave the dog in the backyard. “Only while we’re at the parade, okay? We’ll come straight home after. He’ll be happier out there, away from all the noise and people.” Elliot’s parents were convinced that a pit bull was one of the most dangerous animals in the world, and was only biding his time before sinking his jaws into their son.