Chasing Luck (5 page)

"
I
’m hiding
the truth like I always have. Underneath the layers of raw metal and primer. I’m a liar, liar, and a great pretender.” ~ Jelly Bean Queen

C
hecking
email is a necessary evil and painful chore spawned by a bunch of scientist types. I dream of the day my secretary will sift through messages that clutter the inbox. I don't fantasize for long because success isn't made by dreamers but by doers.

And if anything, I'm a doer.

Billy Vandol's message appears at the top of the queue. The subject line reads 'contract offer' and I'm surprised at the nervous vibe it gives me. I blow on the top of my steaming coffee and take a scalding sip. Prepare myself.

I click and groan. Vandol has written so much in the email that I'm tempted to skim.
Get a grip, old man.
Nobody wants to read an email epistle.

Somebody needs to explain brevity to the geezer.

"Let me begin with an apology. As you probably guessed, Malerie has been taking some medication that altered her behavior. Please do not allow the incident today to sway your decision about the position I am offering you."

I read the rest of the email, a real chore considering the length and detail about things that are none of my business. The morning light filters through the blinds and reveals too much: the cracks in the walls, the worn furniture circa the year somebody thought plaid furniture was a good idea and the stained pea-colored carpet. I've looked at worse places.

When times are good, I spend the money on expensive brew and hang out with my laptop at the local coffee shop. It's comforting to visualize what I want in my future when I look around and see people with agendas.

Vandol's email comes with an attachment—a contract where I assume he restates every single thing but in legal speak. I hook the printer up and know I'm in for some death-by-reading and I'm definitely on a suicide mission coded please-get-to-the-point.

The email ends with a paragraph where he asks me to call to discuss the contract.

I pick up my cell and roll it from palm to fingertips and back, a habit I've fallen into since I gave up smoking. I call him and we agree to meet.

I drive to the local Starbucks that he's suggested and wait inside. It's raining and customers are dashing in out of the weather with umbrellas and frowns. I don't mind the rain. There's something cleansing and calming about water washing down the coffee shop's windows.

I glance inside the only thing I've carried with me, a folder with the printed contract. Vandol shows up a couple of minutes later, sees me, and heads to the counter first. He returns to the table with a couple of coffees and sets one if front of me without asking if I want it.

"We would like for you to start immediately," he says.

"I have some questions about this," I point to the folder like he knows I'm carrying the contract. "I want to know the reasons I'll be doing some of it."

"The money's not enough?"

"The money is good." Did Vandol have any idea how long it usually takes me to make that much? I could pay off a lot of debt in a year. Pay off the student loan for the year I wasted.

"Then is there another problem?"

"I'm not a babysitter."

"Malerie has sitters. We currently have on staff a housekeeper who is only available during the day, a nurse who checks in on Malerie at noon, and myself."

"Then why the security with the specific notes on Malerie? Mr. Vandol—"

"Call me Billy, please."

"Billy, she's an adult. If you want me to watch the house, I understand that. This…" I open the folder and remove the contract. "This has very little stated about the house itself. Most of it states I'll be expected to watch Malerie and I don't understand that."

"You're right. I should be honest with you."

I nod. It's not the answer I expected.

"We had a meeting at the attorney's office after JT died. It was for the reading of the will. Malerie has become quite wealthy, as you can imagine. There were mandates about the running of the household I am willing to follow. It was clear Malerie's safety was of great concern to JT as there were mentions of it in the will. Malerie may object to you, but I was appointed her financial guardian until her 21st birthday. Malerie has issues that need to be resolved if I'm to carry out the wishes in JT's will."

"So, she's some sort of heiress?"

"You could say that."

"Then why not hire a professional bodyguard? Listen." I pause in the act of throwing away my chance at the job. "I appreciate the money, the offer, everything, but I don't know if you realize how unqualified I am for this. I was a security guard. There's a huge difference—"

"I need someone she can trust. You're her age. And what you did at the restaurant was a genuine act of bravery. I trust you. All you have to do is keep an eye on her. I think it's best if she isn't aware you're there for her benefit. As far as Malerie has to know, you are there for the security setup and to keep an eye on the grounds at night."

I shake my head. "I don't do well with lies."

"It won't be a lie. You will be there for the duties as outlined. Also, I'll expect you to report in about Malerie—unofficially of course. I need to know her whereabouts and if anything is troubling her."

The request sits like a day-old donut in my gut. Sticky and bad for my health. "Sounds like spying to me."

He gives me a sad smile and shakes his head. "I mentioned Malerie's background the other day, and the bombing. I didn't get a chance to tell you she has issues."

"Yeah. Anyone would."

"Malerie was traumatized when the building collapsed. She was trapped under debris for a full day before firemen dug her out. She was the only survivor."

"No one else?"

"No. Two hundred and thirty people died that day. One survived."

"And that's Malerie." I think back to the day at the restaurant and how she freaked in the hallway by the bathrooms.

"She's tried to get past her fears and move on."

I clear my throat. "Sounds like she needs some counseling. Maybe a support group."

"She did have that for several years. Now, she seldom meets with her therapist."

"Well then, she must be doing fine."

"I need your answer today. I'll have to hunt for alternatives if you are declining."

I picture the stack of bills on my kitchen table. Medical bills with overdue stamped on the front. Loans for starting my business. Malerie's face pops into my mind, an unwelcome distraction.

"Yes," I say.

"Good. There are several bedrooms in the house, but I'd like to offer you the guesthouse behind the pool. The contract outlines the hours you will be expected to keep."

I frown at the thought of being at someone's beck and call. "I need to be able to leave daily to keep up with other obligations." Not that I have a lot to do. Nothing since finishing the last security setup at Smith and Walters, Inc. Nothing besides checking on the cat, Mrs. Prata, my mail. Nothing besides giving myself a little breathing room.

"Let us know the schedule you'd like to keep then. You should update the alarm system in the house as you'd planned to do for JT. I'll give you information for the household account and you can charge the equipment."

"Sure."

"I'll expect you at the house tomorrow morning." Billy rises and holds out his hand. "I look forward to working with you."

H
e’s a crime fighter
, a do-or-dier, won’t rest until he finds her, he’s Superman. In the middle of the city, he’s a lonely man. Yeah, yeah. Just one man. ~Jelly Bean Queen

I
stand in my bedroom
, rolling clothes into tube shapes where they'll stay unwrinkled in the old duffel bag. I may not have a lot, but the things I have stay looking good for a reason. The cell phone buzzes and I search underneath stacks of jeans on my bed.

The display says it’s William Vandol. "Hello." My voice is wary. Maybe he’s changed his mind.

"Ace, sorry to bother you. This is Billy. I need your help." He has that high pitched, tinny sound people get when they're stressed.

"What's wrong?"

"She's gone. I've searched the house and immediate grounds. I don't know where she would go. She's on foot. I don't know what she thinks she is doing."

"Calm down. I'll be right there, but it'll take me half an hour even if I speed."

"Thank you, Ace. I knew I could count on you. It's why I picked you."

I shake my head at his words. Strange guy. The old man trusts people far too easily. The packing will have to wait. I grab a backpack and throw in a flashlight, a GPS unit, and a few other items. My packing has left the room messy. Spotting my keys on the old chest that doubles as a coffee table, I scoop them up and run for the door.

The drive to the house doesn't take as long as I think. There's a circular drive with gas lampposts every few feet to light the place like an airport runway.

Both Dobermans wait, still as concrete statues, at the front of the house. This time is markedly more unnerving with the dogs on the outside. With me. I sit in my truck for a moment, looking around for Billy. I think for several minutes about calling for an escort inside, but it's the act of a coward. I squirm resentfully. The door creaks when I crack it an inch.

From his post on the front steps, one dog eyes me distrustfully. The larger of the two leans forward and reclines, resting his chin on his paws. The dog's relaxed pose translates as a good sign. I slowly open the truck door wide enough to exit.

Both dogs sit at attention, much more interested in my movements. I sit frozen with one foot on the driveway, the other still in the truck. "Hey," I say like I'm talking to some girl I'd like to be friendly with. "Hey there, it's me … remember yesterday? I'm a nice guy." I edge my other foot out. The larger one begins to growl. His sharp canines flash a ‘beware’ sign to my brain.

Both dogs charge from the steps, almost in flight they’re so light on their feet.

I snag my feet back into the truck in one swift motion and slam the door. The dogs crash against the door, snarling. The truck rocks twice from the impact. The scratching of toenails against metal violates my calm and sweat beads on my forehead. I start the truck and the air-conditioning, point all vents in my direction.

Loud barking prods my heart rate into double-time.

"Down," yells a voice from somewhere in an area seemingly unlit. The dogs sit, waiting for the next command. Billy appears a second later in the light of the driveway near the fountain. He's breathing hard and checking his cell phone.

I crack my window but don’t open the door. "Uh, thanks, I was about to get out…"

"Well, come on then. We don't have all night." Billy says.

"I'll open the door if you guarantee me Satan and Beelzebub here won't eat me for dinner."

Billy shakes his head and stares at me like I'm an idiot. I momentarily forget the reason he's called me here and think he's not too old to punch.

"You have to know the commands. The dogs will get to know you as a master soon enough. I left them out because they'll help us find her." He looks at the dogs. "Stay," he commands.

Laughing at the simplicity of the command, I open the door a centimeter and neither dog moves. My breath catches in my throat when one dog flicks an ear. I don't take my gaze off him and steel my resolve that Billy isn't going to see me chicken out.

"Don't get many visitors out here, do you?" I glance at Billy while keeping the dogs in my peripheral vision.

"They sense your fear," Billy says, examining his phone. "Wouldn't take you for a man who is afraid of a little dog. Tom and Jerry are people dogs."

"Tom and Jerry? These dogs don't seem very friendly."

"Malerie's been missing for three hours now. She didn’t take her phone. She knows better than to leave the house without it.” Billy is all business, apparently forgetting about the dogs.

"Maybe she went for a walk. Does she ever do that?" I study the utter blackness of the night past the perimeter of the house. Even I'd hesitate to walk into the woods here in the mountains.

"Sometimes she jogs, but she's been too injured by the gunshot wound to do so."

"Do you think there is a chance she left with someone?"

Billy inclines his head toward the sitting dogs. "Tom and Jerry would have alerted me if anyone else had been around the house or Malerie." He points at the backpack in Ace's hand. "You brought something?"

I unzip the pack and walk to the porch. "I brought these because I didn't know how the cell phone reception would be out here."

Billy looks curiously at the flashlight and walkie-talkie I hand him. Curious like it's something foreign to him.

I can't wait for him to acclimate himself to the fact that I'm telling him what to do. "I want us to draw a map and take quadrants. I'll call out coordinates periodically and … do you know how to use a GPS?"

He shakes his head and I take a few minutes to show him the readout.

"I'd like for you to always start at the farthest point and zigzag your way toward the house. This way we won't miss her if she comes back. I'll take the outer perimeter of each quadrant. I need to know the exact time you noticed her missing so I can estimate how far she could have gotten.” I check my watch.

"It was after dinner. Maybe six-thirty," he answers.

"Let's spread this out on a table and get a quick plan together." I don't wait to be invited into the house, but once inside I look around back at him for guidance. Billy turns to the right and leads the way. There's a small table and I lay out a large piece of architect paper with a grid background. I instruct him to draw the outline of the property, marking the location of the house. Then I add the GPS coordinates of the location of the house. I'd already marked the location of the road on the way there. I make several marks to show Billy where to begin and give him a notepad with instructions.

We step outside and Billy puts a hand on my arm. "Take Tom with you," he says.

I eye the leather lead he shoves toward me. The dog on the other end looks as unhappy as I am about the prospect. Or maybe it's the fact that I'm used to seeing a dog with a certain amount of tail-wagging enthusiasm. "Don't need it."

"You don't know this area, and Tom does. There's coyotes and things out there you don't want to run into." Billy forces the lead into my hand. The moon is a large glowing disc but does little to aid in seeing more than a few feet ahead. I walk a few yards and the dog keeps pace with me.

The woods breathe with sounds I don’t recognize and the farther I go, sweeping my flashlight in a wide arc, the more I'm glad for the company of the dog.

Tom leads the way through brush and I'm surprised at how thick it's gotten. Masses of fallen dry leaves crunch with each step. I stop at intervals to study my map with the flashlight that had seemed weightless at the onset of the search and now feels like a cumbersome brick to maneuver.

I've made a full circle of my area and sweat trickles down my back. The dog’s ears prick up, and he growls. I'm almost certain I hear the muffled pounding of feet so I click the button on the flashlight. It's way too loud in the stillness of the night. I stop moving, breathing, thinking, and just listen.

A movement from the corner of my eye bleeds into my subconscious. Awareness of the company of another heartbeat, another being, another life. Tom stands silently by my side so I'm not prepared for the pull of the leash when he rockets forward.

We're at the heels of a figure that has to be Malerie and the dog must recognize her. At least, that’s what I’m hoping. No growls, no barking, no lunging, but I don't want to risk her getting a chunk taken out of her ass.

The figure disappears behind the wide trunk of a tree.

Remembering how Billy had used a command earlier, I take a leap of common-sense faith. "Heel."

Tom ceases to lead and stays by my side.

I line myself up with the side of a tree as she had. The dog is so dark in color and low to the ground that he easily blends in with the brush surrounding every tree in the woods. Tom cocks his head like he's hearing movement. His ears perk and I feel the pressure of a metal blade press into my Adam's apple simultaneously.

"Good boy," Malerie says.

"I try to be." I don't move anything more than my lips. It's official. Psycho chick got the drop on me. She stands on her tiptoes but is tall enough to have a good angle with the knife.

"I meant the dog. You're a barrel of laughs," she says without a bit of humor in her voice. "Drop the gun."

"Gun? Mal—"

Billy's voice sounds over the handheld. "Ace, someone's here—" Billy stops talking.

"Drop it slowly," she says. "And don't think about moving more. I don't want to accidentally slice your throat."

"Fuck.” I moan the word through stiff lips. Arguing doesn't seem the way to go. I drop the walkie-talkie without responding to Billy. "He'll expect me to answer. He's worried out of his mind about you."

"Is he?"

I hesitate for a second. "If he's not, he's a helluva good actor."

"Had me fooled, too," she states. "I want to know who sent you. You must be cashing in on a big payoff to get rid of me."

"You're not thinking straight because of the meds or something, 'cause I don't know what you are talking about." I try to turn my head to look at her. A fine trickle of blood escapes the cut from the sharp blade and runs down my neck. "Don't do anything rash. I'm not here to hurt you. I swear." An owl hoots in the distance. I hope Billy doesn't come anywhere near the area if Malerie is ready to unleash a load of paranoid right now.

She’s going to accidently kill me.

"You will do exactly as I say and tell me everything I need to know," Malerie says between gritted teeth. "I want to…" Malerie's words are cut short by the Doberman's low growl.

She moves instantaneously as the dog springs into action, pulling me by the leash. Tom lunges at something behind Malerie. The knife nicks into my collarbone as I'm yanked to the side. The woods are filled with the impact of something hitting the tree inches from where Malerie stood. I see a splintered gouge where a bullet mushroomed into the wood of the oak tree.

A kitchen steak knife glints in the moonlight. She runs.

"Malerie—" I manage to blurt out, irritated that she's determined to get herself killed.

I run after her, no dog or Malerie in sight. Lumbering through the foliage, I stop and hear my breaths coming out in short, labored hisses. I really need more cardio at the gym.

I've lost my flashlight and there's no time to search for it.

I see her half-hidden in the brush. My hands are empty now that she's made me drop my walkie and lose my flashlight. Not that those things would protect me against some lunatic with a gun. I run over to her and crouch at her side.

"Look at me the wrong way and I swear I'll stab you." Her words are a low whisper.

"That's what my last girlfriend said." I sit on my haunches, looking around. "Listen, whoever missed you won't miss again. I don't know where that devil dog of yours is, but I hope he eats the guy with the gun."

Malerie studies my face with new interest. A look of horror passes over her face. "God, are you okay?"

The moonlight filters through the trees, and I'm able to see my shirt. The wound is seeping blood and the darkness makes it appear a black, rich color against the white of my T-shirt.

"I'll live," I whisper. "We might as well be wearing bull's-eye targets on us if we don't move. Are you trying to hide, because you’re doing a helluva job."

"No, I'm playing tag for my health," she rasps and tries to get up. "I stepped in a hole and twisted my ankle. It happened when you got here."

"Here, put your arm on my shoulders," I say, pulling her up and grabbing hold of her waist. "I've lost my walkie, flashlight, map, everything except my phone."

"I know these woods. I can get us back to the house." She holds on with one arm and lets me support her weight. "Let's go."

We move stealthily, making sure to stay hidden in the brush and avoid the wide-open fields. Once while walking, I put my fingers at my collarbone and the sticky substance. Malerie sees the movement and grimaces. Having the advantage of a slight height difference, I can see her guilt, and I smile.

"Maybe when we get back to the house, you can nurse me back to health," I whisper.

Malerie's nose wrinkles as she says with saccharin sweetness, "My nurse will be happy to give you a sponge bath."

Billy had mentioned that the nurse was an able-bodied elderly woman who was retired from full-time nursing, but had agreed to work for them since she'd known Malerie for many years. I pretend I don't know this. "It will probably take both of you. I'm feeling a little woozy from blood loss and I'll be exhausted by the time I lug your butt to the house." I lend a pitiful note to my voice.

Malerie narrows her eyes.

We enter the area that stops being woods and transforms into lawn. There's a body lying sprawled on the driveway near the fountain. The man wears slacks and a light colored sweater.

Billy.

Malerie releases herself from me and runs toward the body. Frantically rolling him over, she begins pulling his body up to her chest and chants. I can't make out at her words at first.

"Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't…"

"Malerie, move back." I nudge her to the side and place two finger on Billy's throat. His pulse butterflies against my fingertips.