Chapter Thirty-Eight

Had they been asked, both would have admitted it was a boring job. Working for the Lake Bluff Police Department had all the excitement of doing laundry or watching TV. There was little for them to do, other than the occasional domestic disturbance or moving violation.

So it was with some interest that Officers Dubrowski and Michaels made their way up the brick driveway to Dr. David Long’s home. Both officers were young, in their twenties, and still fresh enough to find excitement in a variation from their day-to-day responsibilities, no matter how small that variation.

The call had come over their radio ten minutes ago. The dispatcher had told them that an intruder had been reported at Dr. Long’s house. The caller had not identified herself, but Caller ID had shown the call had come from St. Francis Hospital in Evanston.

Strange.

As Officer Jim Dubrowski pulled up in the circular drive that fronted the house, he said, “Doesn’t look like there’s much going on here.”

“Yeah.”

The place was so quiet as to appear deserted.

Dubrowski switched off the siren but left his lights flashing. As he and Michaels exited the car, a figure came out of the woods to their left.

“Look at that guy,” Dean Michaels whispered to his partner. “He looks like a kid.”

A small blond man strode toward them, smiling. Dubrowski noticed that the man seemed to grow older with each step he took toward them. He also noticed a red mark on his face, one that would surely morph into a bruise in the very near future. His small stature and fine, straight blond hair gave him a very deceptive appearance of youth.

“Good afternoon, officers. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Hello, sir,” Michaels said. “We’ve had a call reporting an intruder on the property. Are you Dr. Long?”

The man laughed. “Good Lord, no. The doctor is in the house, sleeping. He’s been ill.”

“And who are you, sir?” Dubrowski asked.

“My name’s Peter Howle.” The man paused. “I work for Dr. Long. Y’know, handyman, butler. They used to call me a gentleman’s gentleman.” The man grinned.

Dubrowski nodded. “And you don’t know anything about an intruder?”

“No. I can’t imagine where such an idea would have come from.” The man made circular motions in the driveway with his toe. “I’ve been here all day, and there hasn’t been a thing out of the ordinary.” He smiled at them. “Not that there ever is. It’s pretty quiet back here.” As if to demonstrate, the man paused and listened to the wind whistling through the treetops and the far-off knocking of a woodpecker.

“Well, if it’s all the same to you, sir, we’d like to just have a look around the place, just to make sure,” Michaels said, recalling the dispatcher’s alert. She had said they were to use caution on this call.

The man shrugged. “Y’know, I told you already; there’s nothing out of place here. There aren’t any intruders. Who made this call, anyway?”

Dubrowski’s reply was curt. “Anonymous.”

“Well then, there you go. It’s probably someone playing a prank.”

“Probably, sir. But we’d still like to take a look around,” Michaels said.

“I can’t let you do that.” Suddenly the man grew serious. Gone was the lighthearted smile that had accompanied almost every statement up until that point.

“And why not?” Michaels took a step toward the odd little man.

“Because, as I told you, the doctor is very ill. I can’t have cops tramping around here, waking him up and upsetting him.”

Dubrowski offered, “We’ll be very quiet and make this as brief as possible.” He noticed how the man’s gaze kept venturing back to his right, where a small dwelling of some sort stood among the trees. The nervousness was evident on his face. “What’s out there?”

The man followed his pointing finger to the white building in the woods. He laughed. “Nothing. The doc used to have a horse, and that’s where he kept it. Nothing in there now but rusting old tools, cobwebs, and mice.”

“Then you won’t mind if we at least check that out. It could be a good hiding place for an intruder.”

“No! I mean yes, I would mind.” The man laughed again, and his laughter was giving him away. “I was just out there myself, tidying up.” He shook his head, staring down at the ground. “Believe me, the only intruders out there are field mice. And as soon as I set up some traps, even they won’t be doing any intruding.”

“Sir, we’d like to have a look. May we?” Michaels put on his best official tone.

“No, you may not. Now, I’ve told you, the call was a prank. It always has been very quiet here, and today is no exception. Now you’ve paid your visit, and I suggest you get on your way.”

Suddenly everyone froze as what sounded like a cry came from the little white dwelling.

Dubrowski asked, “What the hell was that?”

Again, the man laughed. “My dog, Sheba. She probably found one of the aforementioned mousies.”

Michaels started toward the woods. “We’re takin’ a look.”

The man grabbed him. “Wait a minute! This is still the United States, isn’t it? You have no right to barge into people’s private property.”

“So what are you saying? You gonna make us get a search warrant? Because believe me, mister, we will.” Dubrowski already hated this asshole. A search warrant would not be easy to obtain under circumstances like these, but this Howle guy didn’t know that. Dubrowski looked the guy over and then paused, narrowing his eyes.

The guy had blood on his hand.

“What’s that?” he asked.

Howle looked down at his hand and flicked at the blood, as if surprised it was there. “Nothing,” he said, way too fast. “Cut myself bundling some wire’s all.”

Dubrowski nodded slowly. “You know, we could say we have probable cause…”

Michaels nudged him. “Let’s just go get the search warrant.”

Dubrowski stared at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

“We’ll call the judge, have it written up right away.” Michaels turned to Howle. “And then we’ll be back, if that’s how you want us to do it.”

The man smiled at them, but there was only malice in the expression. “That’s how I want you to do it.”

“Fine. C’mon, Jim.” Michaels started back toward the squad car, with a confused-looking Dubrowski following.

*

“Jesus Christ,” Timothy whispered to himself. “Close call.” He was sweating profusely. God knows what the happy couple had gotten themselves up to in his absence. He appreciated the fact that Comparetto was bright enough not to try anything stupid. Making some sort of move could be very stupid indeed if Comparetto considered the jeopardy he would be placing his brother officers in should he try to make trouble.

Timothy hurried back to the stable. There would be no more games. He would dispose of these problems as quickly and efficiently as possible, and then…then maybe it would be time to move on. There were plenty of faggots online in other cities, all just waiting for him to come into their lives and put things to rights.

*

“What the hell did you do that for?” Dubrowski asked when they got in the squad car and were driving back down the brick driveway. “Didn’t you think the situation there was a bit odd? And how the hell are we going to get a search warrant based on an anonymous call about a fuckin’ intruder?”

“Calm down, Jim. We were getting nowhere with that guy. I wasn’t about to stand there all day and argue with him. Of course, I noticed something was up. That’s why I did it.”

“Huh?”

Michaels sighed. His partner wasn’t always the brightest. He steered the car across the road and parked it on the berm. “We’re going to do a little covert operation.”

“Huh?”

“We’re gonna sneak back up there. Through the woods there.” Michaels indicated the trees with his finger, hoping his partner would catch on. “Then we’ll see what this dude is up to once and for all. I’m dyin’ to get a look in that little building in the woods. Ten to one, he’s up to no good there.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

The officers got out of the car, waited for a charcoal gray Mercedes to pass, and crossed the road. They disappeared into the woods, their guns drawn.

*

Ed looked up when Bright came back. He had pulled the duct tape from Peter’s mouth just moments before and had had to shush him when he cried out at the stinging pain.

Bright was not smiling. He gripped the knife so tightly in his hands his knuckles were white.

Ed stood. “Now listen.”

“Shut up!” Bright shrieked, his voice coming out high-pitched, a woman’s wail. He charged Ed and plunged the knife into him.

Ed dropped, face-first, into the dirt.