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A RINGTONE WENT OFF in the dark. Sean woke to it as he always did, stretching his arm over the unfamiliar body of Asbjorn, reaching, fumbling.
Wordlessly, Asbjorn handed it to Sean.
“Yeah.” His voice hoarse from sleep and the long conversations of the previous night, Sean answered it.
“It’s me.”
Instantaneously, the silhouette of a large body leaping through the air flashed through Sean’s mind. A crack of splintering wood and the incongruous, cheerful sound of spilling glass, like a surreal wind chime, resounded in his ears. He almost felt the heavy body land on top of him in the darkness.
Sean flipped the phone shut.
“Sean. What’s the matter, Sean?” Asbjorn’s quickly became alert.
Sean stared into the darkness, stiff like a board, not moving, barely daring to breathe.
The small reading light clicked on and the spell was broken.
“Who was it?” Asbjorn opened his eyes. His gaze was both inquisitive and concerned.
“Sorry... I’m sorry the phone woke you up.”
“It wasn’t the phone. I heard you scream.”
Once again the image of the door caving in under the crushing foot inundated Sean’s senses and he turned away from it and into Asbjorn’s chest. “Honestly, I’m not sure who it was, but it could’ve been the guy. Just waking up like that, you know, and hearing the voice....” Sean’s voice trailed off.
“Keep talking.”
Sean felt lips nuzzle his hair and relaxed just a bit, a deep sigh making its way in and out. “It felt like it was happening all over again.” Sean shuddered, hating himself for his weakness.
“A flashback.” Asbjorn named it, robbing it of its power, clearing the path for Sean’s words.
“Yeah. The door being kicked in and breaking, seeing the guy jump at me, the lamp being smashed....”
Asbjorn pulled him into a tight embrace. “That’s okay. Do you want to keep the light on?”
Sean hesitated. “Yeah... if you don’t mind.”
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“NONSENSE,” MARGARET muttered, packing a container with leftover stuffing. “It’s only Friday. I wish you’d use our house and the peace and quiet through the weekend and get some rest. But you don’t want to stay, and I already gave you an earful about that. This way, at least you won’t have to cook.” She looked at Sean again. “You ought to call Burrows-sensei and talk to him.”
His face whitened. “I will talk to him.”
“When? Today?”
“No. Not today.”
Margaret sighed. “Sean. Do not underestimate your teacher.”
Sean paused, his gaze straying away from the formidable woman, and it took some time before he broke his silence. “If I tell him, Casey will find out.”
Margaret leaned over the scarred, Formica countertop. “Ah, Casey. But you have Asbjorn.”
“She’ll hate me for this. She’ll hate me for being weak and running to Asbjorn as soon as something bad happened. I was always expected to ask her out, as soon as I got good enough....”
“Good enough?” Margaret hummed, her voice tinged with amusement. “I’d think you’re good enough the way you are.”
Sean bit his lip. His sensei was Casey’s older brother, and Sean always figured if he failed to impress him, Casey would be out of reach. After his recent debacle, she would be out of reach for a very long time – if not forever. He wondered if his lack of alarm at the thought should bother him.
“You like her?” Margaret persisted.
“She’s one of my best friends.”
“You’re attracted to her like you’re to Asbjorn?” Margaret was relentless.
Sean’s had that hot and dry feeling rise all the way up to the roots of his hair. “Well, I don’t really have to be, right? I mean, I cannot possibly compare anyone to Asbjorn. Casey’s different... kind of pure, I guess. It’s hard to describe.” He looked out the window, his eye drawn to the tree where he and Asbjorn embraced just yesterday while hiding from the bitter wind and snow.
“Courting someone out of obligation is a bad idea. Sean, look... you’ll be doing Casey no favors if you hem her into some kind of an expected arrangement like that. She may have an opinion of her own about it.” Margaret snapped the lid on the plastic container with considerable force.
“You would know, short stuff.” Ken embraced her from behind. “Temper, temper....” His voice was teasing, and the grin on his face stretched his weather-beaten skin.
“I followed you all the way to Boston, Kenny, and had to look for a job in an entirely new state. And it wasn’t so you could lecture me on my temper.” She turned her head up and met her husband’s gaze. “These young people deserve the same chance we had, and I don’t care how pigheaded David tends to be.”
“We had this chance because you left everything behind, love.” Ken leaned down to kiss the top of Margaret’s long black hair. “If they want their chance, they’ll have to earn it. Nobody escapes that.”
Sean observed the show of Margaret’s temperament with quiet glee. Who would have guessed? Gino had already told him she was Burrows-sensei’s sempai all those years ago, yet here she was, appearing entirely ordinary, packing traditional Thanksgiving leftovers for him and Asbjorn, unwilling to let them escape her hospitality just yet.
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ASBJORN AND SEAN EXITED Gino’s truck.
“Hey, drive safe.”
“Sure.” Gino smiled. “It’s only Friday. Plenty of time to drive north instead of south and pay Casey a surprise visit.”
Sean grinned. “You do that. But don’t tell her about me, okay?”
“I won’t,” Gino said, his tone low and serious as they clasped hands and slapped each other’s shoulders one more time. Then he was off, almost blending in with the gray road, the truck’s red color nearly obscured by layers of road salt.
Sean’s door was fixed and he was glad to reacquaint himself with his room all alone, using the time to scrub off the stubborn black fingerprinting dust and clean up the wreckage that had been his private sanctuary. Asbjorn would have kept him company, but Asbjorn had work to do and Sean told him off. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
Asbjorn’s eyes narrowed. “You’re sleeping in that room, Sean?”
Their looks clashed as Sean’s stubbornness warred with Asbjorn’s determination.
“Yes. You bet I am.”
“The school already offered to move you somewhere else.”
If at all possible, Sean’s chin assumed an even more stubborn set. “There is no way this asshole is forcing me out of my space. I refuse to be affected by this.”
Asbjorn suppressed a sigh. “Keep your phone charged. Call me if you need anything.”
The Pile echoed with emptiness, as the large Victorian structure was devoid of students except for those two up on the third floor. Sean was in the basement – he might as well have been alone.
He assessed the damage to his quarters, relieved to find his room was a mess due to his earlier preoccupation rather than from having being tossed. Half an hour later, his floor was free of broken glass, the old lamp lay in the garbage, and the stubborn black fingerprint powder was banished off the hard surfaces of the doorjambs.
He tried the new door, gratified to see a steel, security model but missing the beauty of leaded glass panes in the elegant arched insert of the old one.
A shame, that. It had been so beautiful.
An hour later he sat under the bright fluorescent lights of the laundry room in the neighboring dormitory. The washer hissed and rocked while Sean soaked up the heat of the dryer, reading ahead in one of his textbooks. The show must go on, the grades must be maintained, and life must be lived to the fullest despite Joe Green’s worst intentions.
He still thought of the perp as Joe Green. The real name of Frank Pettel was, at least for now, locked away in the dark places of his memory. It was better to have a pseudonym place-marker in his head, for it allowed him to keep more distance between himself and the events of two nights ago.
He cleaned up his room. He would go and buy security window shades so light didn’t leak outside. There were simple security measures he could adopt.
If Joe Green showed up again, he could only guess whether Sean’s room was occupied or not. Sean would make up for lost daylight with more lamps. He refused to change a single thing about his lifestyle, choosing to remain blissfully blind to the fact that he was, in fact, changing everything.
That evening, Mark called.
“We have the results on the prints from the phone. There is good news, and there is bad news.”
“Okay?” Sean wasn’t sure which news he wanted first.
“The perp is in our system. That’s the good news. Asbjorn’s ID helped on that – and we’re still waiting on the word from the Navy on the reasons for his dishonorable discharge.”
“So what’s the bad news?” Sean felt short of breath.
“The bad news is his fingerprints are associated with at least five home invasions like yours. Predatory, both women and men. Three of those people moved away or graduated. All were part of one of the local college campuses. And nobody testified yet. Nobody’d come forth like you did, Sean. You’re the first handle we have on this bastard.”
Sean felt the weight of his own silence.
“Hey, Sean, you all right there?” Mark’s cheerful banter could now only be imagined.
“I think he called last night. Unknown number.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re staying at Asbjorn’s. He said you would be, anyway.”
More silence.
“Oh fuck, don’t tell me you plan to stay at your room, man.”
Sean took a deep breath. He felt the ground solidify under his feet, and suddenly his center clicked into place again. “I am not changing my room because of this asshole,” he hissed.
“Obstinate as always. Call if you need anything. If you have one of those bad feelings, just call me. Call nine-one-one. Trust your gut feeling on this, Sean. We don’t know where this guy lives yet, but I’d feel a lot better if you weren’t alone.”
That night, Sean ate Thanksgiving leftovers in the comfort of Asbjorn’s apartment. The dinner atmosphere was anything but festive.
“And I am telling you to stay.” Asbjorn’s voice had a good bit of force behind it.
“I can’t. I can’t be forever attached to other people, depending on them. I have to deal with this by myself.”
He could see Asbjorn’s jaw muscle work, the muscles in the strong neck bulging.
“You’re fucking crazy. You have a serial rapist after you, and you won’t even take precautions.”
Sean’s temper snapped. “Oh fuck off, Asbjorn! If this had been you, you’d totally refuse anyone’s help! You’d send people away like you kicked me out before. I don’t need you to baby me!” Sean found himself standing, his throat raw from shouting.
“You are not staying alone!” Asbjorn was on his feet in response to Sean’s hasty words, and his fist closed on the shoulder of Sean’s shirtsleeve.
At that moment, Sean didn’t have it in him to care. “Watch me.”
A chair fell over as Sean stepped out, clamping his right hand over Asbjorn’s fist. He grasped the closed fist, bent the strong arm at the elbow with his other hand, and bowed. Asbjorn dropped to the ground with a snarl as a lightning-bolt of pain lanced his wrist joint. He was holding his abused arm, helpless, as Sean grabbed his leather jacket on his way out. From the corner of his eye, he saw Asbjorn stagger to his feet and clutch his wrist with a pained grimace. Guilt nagged, but he pushed it aside, knowing the nerve stimulation was only temporary.
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ALL STORES WERE OPEN on Black Friday, and Sean had no trouble getting all his components.
There. That ought to do it.
Sean straightened, stretched his back, and put the multitool back in his pocket. The wires were stretched, the detectors were activated, and the cameras were silently recording. Any vibrations against his windows or the outer door would trigger a cheap, disposable cell phone, which in turn called his new smartphone’s special ringtone. Infrared detectors in the basement would set off his perimeter defenses, and motion detectors would trigger the alarm within a ten-foot radius of his outside windows and the external door. The camera feeds went straight to his laptop, where the data would be stored only if the perimeter was breached. His backup battery and surge suppressor would ensure his system’s function even if the power lines were cut. Hooray for Home Depot and Radio Shack – the hardware he hauled home on the bus was even on sale.
Sean could go and have a shower now without pissing himself scared that Joe Green would jump him in the dark. He passed through the cavernous basement to the shower room with two stalls, and used his security remote to activate the system as the door closed behind him. He could take as long as he wanted. Nobody, but nobody was going to force him to change his lifestyle.
Clean, relaxed, and ready for bed, Sean gritted his teeth in his effort to recapture his old languorous sense of fatigue that used to precede a good night’s sleep. He slipped into his sneakers and tied his shoelaces, a concession to safety in case he had to fight or flee. After gathering his basket of shower items and tossing his towel over his shoulder, he emerged out of the spartan showers and into the basement, content in the knowledge that he was safe.
As soon as he took two steps into the open space, he was almost blinded by a powerful strobe light. The sound of an ululating siren flooded his ears and he stumbled back, momentarily disoriented.
Turn it off.
Turn it off!
He could barely think under the assault of his own defenses.
The remote. On the sink.
He stumbled into the showers, grabbed the small garage-door opener, and pushed the large button once.
The noise ceased, the strobe light extinguished, and he felt both blind and foolish in the darkness that followed. The grin on his face was victorious, however, as he felt his way back to his room. That was one heck of an alarm system – his electronics courses were beginning to pay off. He’d have to remember to keep the remote with him at all times, though. And he’d have to reposition some of the sensors so other students could use the showers too.
He fell asleep fully dressed, wearing sneakers on his feet, lying on top of his covers, with his perimeter defenses set. He left the lights in his room blazing, secure in the knowledge that his presence was disguised by his blackout curtains.
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“HE MAY NOT EVEN BE there,” Dud whispered. “We could be sittin’ out here, our asses going numb all night long. You probably called me all for nothing. It’s a long weekend, man. Nell and I have plans for tomorrow.”
Asbjorn growled. “He was set to spend the night in his room, by himself. No way he isn’t there.”
“Wanna call him?”
“It’s three in the morning.”
Dud’s silence stretched sullenly until Asbjorn caved.
“Okay. I’ll go see if he’s there, and if everything’s quiet, we’ll call it a night.”
He exited the passenger’s side of Dud’s Jeep and closed the door with a soft thud. He didn’t want to call and wake Sean – maybe a peek through the window would reassure him that his sunshine was all right, and then they could leave. It was apparent that Dud missed Nell’s warm bed, and Asbjorn felt a sudden sense of foolishness. Surely there’s nothing to worry about. It’s just....
He glued himself to the fieldstone foundation of the old house. Here was the offending door – replaced with a secure steel one. Good. And there was the nice large window.... Asbjorn pressed his nose against it, seeing nothing. He shielded his eyes from the street lamps glowing from the next house over and leaned against the glass. Dark... very dark. He pulled out the small, keychain flashlight and turned the corner. The other, smaller window had been uncovered in the past. If he could shimmy his way up the drainpipe, he could peek in and make sure Sean was safe.
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“MARK! IT’S ME, SEAN. Yeah, I already called nine-one-one. Somebody’s definitely out there.” Sean hefted the three-foot-long steel pipe in his other hand. “Yeah. I’ll call you as soon as I have something. Yeah, even if they don’t find anyone. Thanks, Mark.”
Sean hunched over his laptop. The video feed showed a silhouette of a tall, well-built man by his smaller window. It was too dark to make out his features, but nobody in their right mind would shimmy up a drainpipe with a flashlight in their teeth in the middle of the night. He was mortally certain the man was Joe Green.
Joe Green had found out Sean had called the police after all.
Joe Green had sworn to come and kill him if he did so.
Joe Green would pay.
Sean turned his lights off, just in case. Only the glow of his laptop screen cut through the dark. The minutes stretched on and on, interminable, unbearable.
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“POLICE. YOU’RE UNDER arrest.” There was a brief scuffle outside and the muffled sound of voices.
They got him!
Sean resisted the temptation to lift his blackout curtain and forced himself to rely on the grainy feed of the outdoor cameras instead. He saw four figures. They all had flashlights in their hands – the bright beams flooded his cameras’ sensors momentarily. He couldn’t see, but he heard the pissed-off, adrenaline-high voices outside.
He decided to wait for Mark when the wail of a siren in the basement assaulted his ears.
“Police! Stop where you are!”
He heard a couple of gunshots and quickly pushed the button on his remote control. The noise ceased.
“Fuck, man! What’s this fuckin’ shit!”
“What did you shoot, man?”
“I dunno! The wall? Nobody seems to be here. There’s the kid’s room.”
Sean pocketed the remote and waited for the knock on the door.
“Open up! It’s the police!”
Suddenly, it occurred to him that he had no proof the men outside were, in fact, the police. “How do I know you’re the real police?”
“Because if you are Sean Gallaway, you placed a nine-one-one call, and if you don’t open this door up, we’ll open it for you.”
Oh. Well, then. Sean let the door creak open, hiding behind the closet with his pipe over his shoulder, baseball-style. He saw two uniforms enter the room, beams of flashlights searching the corners. He lowered his improvised weapon. “I’m right here. There’s a light switch by the door.”
A beam of bright light made him flinch as it hit his eyes.
“Are you Sean Gallaway?”
“Yeah.”
The light came on. “What’s with the pipe?”
“I didn’t know who’d come in first. Last time it was the bad guy.” Sean looked at the two cops. “Sorry about the noise. I set up an alarm. What were you shooting at?”
“A guy with a strobe light.”
“There was no guy. I bet you destroyed my strobe.” Sean entered the basement and turned the lights on to inspect the damage. Sure enough, the floor was covered with glass shards. He turned to the officers. “That’s okay. Sorry if it startled you. I thought you’d call me first, let me know when the coast was clear.”
The two cops exchanged a look. “We have two perps in custody. We’ll need you to come downtown and take a look at them first thing tomorrow morning. How about you just get some sleep for now?”
“Okay.” Sean felt spent as the adrenaline began to leave his system. This time he recognized the feeling as his hands trembled just the slightest bit.
“You have anywhere to go?”
“Yeah, but I’ll be fine here. You caught him, right? I’ll just turn the alarm on.”
“We shot up your light, kid.”
“It’s okay,” Sean grinned. “I wired everything in parallel and there’s an independent power source. This baby will be fine.”
Sean was amazed at his ability to fall asleep again. He felt like he had his mojo back. The ground was firm under his feet. The lights were still on, true, but he took charge of his situation and his compensatory mechanisms performed well. He’d tweak the basement systems tomorrow and replace the strobe light. For now, though, he’d sleep the sleep of the just.
His cell phone woke him only two hours later.
“Hey, Sean, it’s Mark. Can you turn those infernal defense systems down so I can come in?”
Still fully dressed, Sean rolled out of bed and beeped the perimeter off.
They sat in the kitchen while Sean prepared mint tea for both of them.
“So what happened to you on this fine Saturday morning?” he inquired, noting the way Mark’s face was drawn. There was thickness to his left arm and a dark stain spread on the sleeve of his brown shirt.
“Oh, just a take-down. I’m working a case up in Alewife, one of those collaborative things, and somebody took a potshot at me but mostly missed.”
“Mostly?” Sean’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. “Mark, are you shot?”
“Just a flesh wound. Happens, you know. Can I have some honey in that?”
“Sure.” Sean scrambled to reach the plastic honey jar. “You shouldn’t have come. You should have gone straight to bed.”
Mark grinned. “You know, this job sucks most of the time. You get shot at, people call you names, it’s underpaid... but every so often something like this happens, and man, I live for stories like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like what happened here tonight.” The shit-eating grin just wouldn’t leave the detective’s face.
“They caught two guys, Mark. I don’t see what’s so funny about that.”
“Yeah, except they caught the wrong two guys. When this lovely tea is all finished and you reset your infamous doomsday machine, you and I have to go to the station so you can convince my superiors that neither Asbjorn nor Dud is, in fact, the perp they’re after.”