First Night of Summer (2 page)

“Yeah, I know.” Charlie paused. “Sometimes I don’t think this town could get by without me. But then I remember that it was here long before me and it will be here long after I’m gone.”

“True, but you’re the boss man. What you say goes.”

“Humph! I’m a simple public servant, and if I’m not seen serving, I can kiss my salary good-bye. Then what am I going to do?”

Isaac rubbed his face. His thumb and fingers made a scraping sound against a dark, five o’clock shadow that matched his head of thick, black hair. “I haven’t really thought of it that way.”

“At least you have other pilots to fill in for you. I, my friend, am just one man. No Charlie equals no chief of police.”

Isaac was a forest fire patrol pilot for the state of New Mexico. His flying credentials from the air force were impeccable and helped land the position. Growing up in the local culture and knowing the terrain also contributed.

“You know,” he said, “I guess we are taking a trip the first weekend in August. Sarah’s doing her Susan G. Komen Walk for the Cure in Albuquerque. While she’s doing that, the girls and I are flying up to Taos and staying with Mom and Dad for the weekend. I’ll tell them it’s their surprise for saving Jason.”

“But don’t the three of you take that trip every year? I mean, while Sarah’s doing the cancer walk?”

Isaac smirked. “Yes, but I’ll see if I can get away with it anyway.”

“Oh, c’mon. Two little girls—without a moment’s notice, I might add—tried to use a picnic tablecloth to catch a four-year-old boy who jumped off the second-story roof of his house. Not only did they try, but it actually worked. After a twenty-two-foot drop, the kid doesn’t have a bruise on him.”

“Look, I’m as proud as anyone. But they’re still in school, and I have work. End of summer. That’s the best I can do.”

Charlie shook his head, a sarcastic show of disappointment. Finally recovered from the keep-away exertion, he tilted his head back and looked at the blue sky. He loved it there in Ruidoso with friends close by. Evenings like these were his favorites. The mountains truly were majestic.
What a place to work. What a place to raise a family. What a place to enjoy one’s life
.

“So, what’s for supper?”

“I think she’s cooking spaghetti.”

Charlie patted his belly. “That sounds great.”

“Didn’t we have that last week when you were here?”

“Yeah … well … Sarah knows it’s my favorite. I’ve been eating spaghetti in that kitchen since your mom used to cook it. Besides, you never complain when putting a third helping on your plate.”

“So true,” he conceded. “Do you remember when we were in high school and Mom had to double the recipe? We ate so much that Dad thought our legs were hollow.”

Both men were startled when a hand was placed on their shoulders. Surprised by the touch, they turned around to see that Sarah had joined them on the porch. She looked so much like the twins. Or, rather, they looked so much like her with the same blonde hair, the same green eyes, and the same good looks.

“Hey, hon.”

“Hey, Sarah.”

“Who’s hungry?” she asked.

For a big man, Charlie was surprisingly quick getting to his feet. He tipped back the beer and slugged down the last couple sips. “That would be me.” He waved at Josie and Caroline. “Come on, girlies. Uncle Charlie’s hungry.” Within two seconds, he was through the door, not bothering to hold it for anyone, and seated at the table.

Outside, shadows between giant pines were blending into one dusky shade of gray. The pillar-like trees cast their black silhouettes as sentinels around the neighborhood. Evening was nearing its end. The air was peaceful and calm. In the distance, two mountains stretched into the heavens, their peaks reaching for the stars.

Isaac held the screen door open for Sarah and the twins as he took in the last vestiges of a resplendent day. As a parent and a husband, he felt on top of the world. He and Sarah were settled in a town they loved, had two good girls, friends, and plenty of money to support a comfortable way of life. They didn’t feel the earth tilting on its axis, but it was. The chaos had not yet begun, but it was coming. Soon.

He stepped into the house and turned his back on the final moments of light. Darkness approached in more ways than one. Someone was watching.

Chapter Two

A
dangerous man, hidden within the shell of a refined, non-threatening citizen, fantasized over the lithe movements of Caroline and Josie Snow. Ricky Doors suppressed his perverse urges while watching their game of keep-away. In the fading sunlight of evening, long shadows stretched around him. He was in the gray area, concealed from view, exactly where he liked to be.

The girls enamored Ricky. He sat poised, eyes wide with adoration, watching them run to and fro. Their golden blonde locks rippled in the breeze and shone like celestial bursts of light in his real-life fantasy. Even from his distance, through pocket-sized binoculars, their green eyes were as bright as the spring grass. Their supple skin, so peachy smooth.

Not for ten lifetimes could I search and find their equal
. Purely evil, he put sexual urges aside. He focused on the moment at hand. The scene was so cheerful, not like his life experiences.

Sure, there were moments of excitement but no true joy. His thrills came from all the wrong things, all the wrong places. As the years rolled by, his moral gray area quantified, further separating darkness from the light, further separating
him
from the light.

He was in awe of the twins’ boundless energy and lust for life. He loved the purity in which they played games, rode their bikes, and slept at night. He felt moved by their innocence and how they carried it upon their shoulders each day, light as a feather. Their minds were pure without even trying.
What a wonderful feeling that must be
.

He leaned his head against a tree trunk and drifted off into peaceful nothingness. The girls continued playing in the distance, and he took pleasure in their laughter, their squeals of delight. The whole setting was picture-perfect. Spring was quickly leaving and making way for summer’s warmth. The light breeze across his face, the rustling of leaves in his ears, and the cool earth beneath him were like little gifts. True pleasure was in the details, the nitty-gritty, sticky details.

Tree bark pressed into his scalp. He used the discomfort to sharpen his senses and stay in the present. He was there to watch, to observe. Reconnaissance was the only mission, the place where he needed to keep his mind. The other stuff would come. It all came in due time.

He took a drink of water from his canteen and screwed the lid back on. People who drank bottled drinks, especially water, disgusted him. Nature was the last unspoiled thing on earth, and for his part, he was determined to keep it that way.

Isaac and Charlie were sitting on the porch, and he wondered what it might be like to have a real friend. Briefly, he contemplated what would happen if he stepped out of the woods, walked to the porch, and sat down.
Isaac looks like an active guy. Maybe we could do some working out together. Charlie, well, he looks like the type that would be fun to watch football with
.

The thought passed as suddenly as it had come. Sure, they might accept him for a while, but only until they found out who he was, or worse, what he did. And really, the twins meant more to him than anything else, any friendship, in the world. No buddy or pal could ever give what he planned to take from them.

He put a pair of Swarovski binoculars to his eyes. He liked being up close and personal, and the binoculars were the best money could buy. They came directly from the factory in Europe. To look through the lenses was to be drawn into a brighter, clearer world. Even at twilight and dusk, they could collect enough light to miraculously illuminate any landscape, and with a price tag near two thousand dollars, they were well worth it. Again, it was all about the details, the priceless details.

Ricky studied his subjects. The lenses followed every move they made. He was looking for character traits, things that might give him an opening. When one got close enough, and studied long enough, the unnoticeable became noticeable.

He also honed in on Isaac. To know how closely a father watched his children was imperative.
Is he attentive or withdrawn? Does he keep a continual eye on the girls or check in with them periodically?
All pieces of information were necessary to create a solid plan.

He put the binoculars in the pouch of his hooded sweatshirt. The neighborhood backed right up to the forest and offered plenty of cover. There were trees everywhere, ridges to hide behind, and mountains to disappear in. He had hidden in the forest now for over two hours, and no one knew he was there. But sitting and watching didn’t get the fox in the henhouse. Finding a gap to crawl through, a way to weasel in without being noticed, was the trick.

Patience. Patience. Time will bring me the answer
. His thoughts were slowly turning from business to lustful pleasure. A new excitement was building, creating a giddy anxiousness.

When, not if, the operation took place, Caroline and Josie would be his first set of twins. The thought made his stomach jump with anticipation. The high was coming. He could feel it. He had to feel it.

Remarkable that they were capable of saving a life. What special, special little girls
. A black backpack sat on the pine needles next to him. He removed a leather journal and pen. It was time to make note of some specifics, add a few words to his collection of filth.
My hall of fame has a special place just for you two
.

He wrote down every thought and observation he could recall. The journal, though, was not just for practical purposes. It was his book of memories and filled with pages dedicated to his previous victims. This particular book of secrets was already halfway full, and there were others in a hidden spot back home. In fact, there were many, many others.

As he finished writing, there was a shift in the environment. All was silent where there had just been the sound of children at play. He ended the entry and looked up. Once again, binoculars pulled him into someone else’s world, a world he longed to share.

Charlie had just disappeared through the screen door and into the house. Next, Caroline and Josie came running up the patio steps and into the kitchen. And finally, holding the door for his lovely wife, Isaac gave one last appreciative look around the neighborhood.

“A detail man,” Ricky murmured.

He didn’t know what Isaac was looking for. He could tell the father was seeing beyond the obvious, noticing the often-overlooked essence of his surroundings. But there was more to it than that. He could sense it. Isaac’s dark eyes were scanning, probing. It came across as more instinctual or habitual than anything. There was no cause for alarm, but from someone who lived by life’s subtleties, Ricky noticed a profoundness and depth to the action.

“I like detail people. They know how to live.”

He stood from the hiding place, packed the binoculars and journal, placed the backpack straps over his shoulders, and turned into the thicket. It was a half-mile to the jogging trail and another quarter-mile to the parking lot. Distance was no problem. There was no spare weight on his lanky, almost meatless frame to tire him out.

When he arrived at his van, the night was brand new. The boldest of stars were shyly peeking out from their homes. The absence of light revealed a darker, hidden beauty. He drove away, and the mountain swallowed him whole. He was the invisible man.

There was nothing to it.

Chapter Three

O
n a Friday evening, more than three weeks since Josie and Caroline had saved little Jason Smith from his failed attempt at flying, Isaac returned home from work. He parked his restored 1955 Chevy truck in the detached garage and ran along the flagstone sidewalk and up the patio steps, trying to escape the downpour. He was still in uniform. A plaid, unbuttoned flannel shirt hung over a T-shirt. Blue jeans and a pair of leather work boots rounded out his on-the-job attire.

He had been gone for two days when the New Mexico drought broke. Normally he flew patrols Wednesday through Saturday, but dispatch sent him home early. There was no risk of wildfires popping up over the next twenty-four hours. The entire state was getting soaked. And besides, flying in the storm was too dangerous.

He called Sarah from his cell phone to let her know he was coming home sooner than expected. When she promised him a surprise, coupled with his enthusiasm for extra time off, he hustled to finish up.

Isaac enjoyed his job. The flying could get monotonous, but compressing work into a four-day period was the best part. To have three days of uninterrupted time for family every week was priceless. Being away and having to stay in a hotel was the downside. Above everything, though—there was no more killing. He had his wish: a quiet life and family.

He swung open the kitchen door and stepped onto the rug. It didn’t take but a second to realize something was missing. No pitter-patter of feet came running to greet him.
Funny since they knew I was on my way
. Then an aroma hit his nose and immediately reminded him of days gone by … one day in particular.

“When you said ‘surprise,’” he told to Sarah, “I had no idea.” He shook off the rain and closed the screen door, letting the sound and freshness filter into the house. “Were you already planning this? Tell me you didn’t run out and grab everything after I called.”

She stood over the sink. A hot pink apron slung over a gray tank top and a pair of white skinny jeans nicely complimented her figure. Her slender hips shook ever so slightly as she mixed the contents of something not visible. Her ponytail swished back and forth.

“I’ve been planning it. Actually, it was for tomorrow, but since your home a night early, I thought we might as well celebrate.”

“Sounds good to me.”

She stopped, came across the room, gave him a quick hug and kiss, and went back to work. The front of her kitchen apron read, “I cook. You clean.” But he wasn’t looking at her apron. The wiggle in her walk was driving him crazy after being away for two days.