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Kelvin recognized the caller and answered immediately. He quelled his first impulse to rip her a new one. Sunny should have checked in long ago. The plan had been flawless, until she screwed it up. He’d grown more and more flustered the longer he sat with the Doctor virtually breathing down his neck. The crazy-eyed bastard had begun polishing his gun twenty minutes ago.
“Who calls?” The Doctor moved from his post in front of the closed office door, to hover like a vulture spying a meal. He leaned on the desk, the gun dangling from the other fist.
“Sunny.” Kelvin struggled not to shrink away.
The Doctor held out an imperative hand, but Kelvin shook his head and turned away to talk. He could still salvage the situation. Maybe she had good news. He forced himself to speak calmly. “I want you to—”
"Kelvin, I don't care what you want.” Wind buffeted Sunny’s phone. “Is the Doctor there? Tell him there's no way to retrieve the product.”
Done, screwed, over and out. Kelvin shouted into the phone. “Tell him yourself.” He switched the phone to speaker, clunked it down on the desk and backed away, distancing himself from Sunny’s failure.
She spit the words, a cornered cat with claws extended. “I'm at the barn. Correction, I’m parked on the last bit of road, at least 20 feet away. The road washed out, it's all under water. No way to get to the barn.” She laughed bitterly. “There’ll be no big show tonight, sweetheart, not with all the dogs drowned. Everything’s under water. Hell, half the loft is gone. Tornado probably took the drugs, too."
The Doctor’s free hand rose to his scalp, grasped a lock of silver hair, and twisted. “Promises made,” he whispered.
Kelvin parried with persuasion and sympathy. "Sorry about the dogs, Sunny. But we made a deal. You don't have a choice.”
"Forget the dogs.” She snorted. “Hell, most were has-beens, only a few good prospects. Kelvin, there's always more dogs. And the Doctor can make more pills."
“Find. A. Way.” Had they been fists, Kelvin’s words would have bloodied her face. “If it’s there, get it out. That's why you're being paid." She had no idea what tightrope they walked. The venal bitch cared most about money, so he’d use the only leverage he had.
"I already got paid. Most of it, anyway." She paused, amusement in her voice. "The Doctor’s making you all flustered. Take a chill pill, Kelvin. Maybe he’ll loan you some meds."
"Sunny “The Babe” Babcock, you have been paid for services not yet rendered." The Doctor yanked a twist of hair from his head, and idly painted the gun with the hank.
"Yeah, well, the tornado had other plans." Her sarcastic retort made Kelvin’s stomach drop. She thought distance kept her safe. He took another step backwards.
Twist, yank. Another silver lock fell. "You will arrange for another event to fulfill our agreement. And you will secure the product for this future event, at your own time and expense."
"Why should I?” She taunted the man, clearly enjoying herself. “It's your party, Doc. Give me one reason I shouldn't pack up and leave you to clean up your own mess."
Kelvin took another step backwards. If he could reach the door . . . He stopped when the Doctor raised his gun.
"I'll give you two reasons, Sunny Babcock. Reason number one. Do this and I will pay you Kelvin's share as well."
Licking his lips, Kelvin slowly shook his head as the Doctor pointed his gun. No chance to change his mind. He could see the Doctor’s decision in his pale eyes.
For the first time, Sunny sounded cautious. "Kelvin might object. What's the second reason?"
In concert with the gun’s "pop-pop-pop” Kelvin’s knees unhinged. The triple-punch blazed fire into his middle. He pressed both hands to his gut, wobbled, and then keeled over. His face smooshed against the floor. The carpet smelled of mouse turds.
"Reason number two. The police will discover you killed Kelvin for his share, unless you finish the assigned task.”
Another “pop-pop” sounded, followed by the opening squeak and rattle of the top desk drawer dumped to the floor. Kelvin’s money-stuffed yellow sock rolled under the desk. From his vantage, he watched the Doctor scoop up the blood money he’d never get to spend. The money never mattered, not really.
The Doctor picked up the phone, talking as he walked, until his fancy snakeskin boots stood inches from Kelvin’s face. He closed his eyes and held still when the man’s toe nudged his neck. Possum time.
"Since I no longer have confidence in your trustworthiness, Sunny Babcock, I will meet you at the event destination. You will transfer the rescued product into my safekeeping. Don't disappoint me." The Doctor’s pointed boots moved away, then the office door opened. “Broken promises reap punishment.” He tossed the phone at the desk, and slammed the office door.
Kelvin’s eyes flew open. His phone. He’d be dead soon. But there was still time. To do what mattered most. To be a hero.
***
Shadow watched the woman’s back stiffen. Her fist clenched and she shoved the phone back into her pocket. Then her shoulders slumped, and she paced back and forth in the eyelight beams, looking first at the barn and then at her big truck.
Shadow watched curiously when she backed the truck dangerously close to the road's chewed up edge. She got out and climbed into the back of the truck bed, and began adjusting things. Metal pings and thunks made loud clattering and he slicked down his ears. She squatted and with a grunt, lifted a metal rack contraption upward until a clacking sound locked it in place.
Shadow cocked his head and he huffed beneath his breath when she climbed the platform sprouting from the truck's bed. A long metal ladder was heaved upward, too. Shadow knew about ladders.
But she didn't prop the ladder against anything. Instead, she balanced the ladder on the top platform and then tugged and pulled a rope contraption until the ladder grew. Shadow nearly barked with surprise when it kept expanding, sticking out like a tree limb. It clanked down with a muted thud on the top of the open dumpster, but kept growing longer and longer.
Shadow had never seen a ladder move sideways through the air instead of up against a wall. It stopped growing when the end touched the cement wall just below the open side of the loft.
The woman at the truck took a careful step onto the ladder, balanced herself, and then hurried along the metal pathway she'd created, graceful as a cat on a fence. She reached the end of the ladder, grabbed the edge of the loft, and hiked herself inside.
