Scorched (18 page)

They neared the buildings. No barks, no slamming doors, no distant cars approaching. Everything was dark, except for the yellow lightbulb glowing above the back door. No cars or trucks that Gage could see.

Kelsey moved along behind him with surprising stealth. She wasn’t bad at this, but her presence was distracting. Gage didn’t want to be thinking about her when he needed to be focused on gathering intel. His senses were on high alert. There was something
odd about this setup. What was Weber doing out here that had attracted the attention of a federal agent? If he was trafficking something, Gage saw no hint of it. From what Gage had observed, this was a shitty location for smuggling anything. They were more than fifty miles from the nearest interstate, so any regular back-and-forth of people or vehicles would likely attract the notice of area residents, not to mention the local sheriff.

But maybe the sheriff was on the take. Stranger things had happened. They wouldn’t be here at all if Kelsey hadn’t witnessed an FBI agent snuffing out one of his own.

By the time they reached the first outbuilding, Gage was almost certain no one was home. The structure looked like a storage shed. The door was held shut by a rusty padlock, but the hardware was a joke and it would have taken one swift kick for Gage to bust through it. Not a likely hiding spot for anything valuable.

The second building was a greenhouse, and Gage stopped to peer through a dusty windowpane as they crept past. In the faint glow from the porch light, he saw a tangle of leafy plants that were obviously being watered on a regular basis.

Gage motioned for Kelsey to stay in the shadow cast by the third outbuilding. She obediently melted into the darkness. He walked the perimeter of the house and returned to the back porch, where he paused to listen. No cars. No dogs. He looked through a window into the kitchen, where a light shone down into a sink filled with dishes. On the floor were several large garbage bags overflowing with trash. He took out his pocketknife
and checked the window, and was surprised once again when it opened with a faint
pop.

Kelsey emerged from the shadows and gave him a
what are you doing?
look. He shoved the window up. Then he hoisted himself onto the sill and slipped inside, easing the window down behind him.

The air in the kitchen felt cool, as if someone had been running the AC all day. Gage had noted several window units when he circled the house, but they weren’t running anymore, so someone must have left fairly recently. He glanced around at the counters littered with dishes, beer cans, plastic water bottles. Despite the trash everywhere, something about the place reminded him of his grandmother’s kitchen. It was the smell, he realized—the lingering aroma of a thousand bacon-and-egg breakfasts cooked over a gas stove.

Gage moved into the living room. It was dark, so he took out his flashlight and darted it around. He was looking for a desk, some papers, maybe a stack of mail—anything that would give him a clue about this guy’s life. The room contained two well-worn sofas and a coffee table blanketed with newspapers. Gage stepped over and read a few headlines.

A floorboard creaked and he spun around to see Kelsey behind him.

“Find anything?” she whispered.

Squawk.

They turned toward the fireplace in unison. Kelsey moved toward the noise but Gage caught her elbow.

“Give us a kiss!”

“A fucking parrot.” Gage released her arm, and
she walked over to lift the corner of a blanket that was draped over a birdcage.

“It’s a macaw,” she said, and her words were cut off by a chorus of chirps from the opposite corner of the room. Yet another chorus went up from a different corner.

He turned around. “Damn, he’s got an aviary in here.”

Kelsey dropped the blanket over the macaw and checked out the second cage. Gage aimed his flashlight beam at the small green bird now poking its beak through wire mesh.

He spotted a stack of papers on a table near the door and walked over to comb through. Junk mail, mostly. He flipped over one of the mailers and saw Charles C. Weber on the address label.

A gasp from Kelsey. He turned around as she dropped to her knees beside the coffee table.

“It’s about Blake,” she said.

“What is?”

“This newspaper article. He’s reading about Blake’s murder.”

Gage peered over her shoulder to read the headline, and he knew this was no wild-goose chase. Or parrot, whatever. Whoever this guy Weber was, he was connected to Blake and keenly interested in his death.

Gage’s head snapped up at the sound of an approaching car.

“Someone’s coming!” Kelsey said as Gage pulled her to her feet and hustled her down the hall and into the bedroom, where they’d be less likely to bump into Weber while making their escape.

Gage glanced around. The only window in the room had an air-conditioning unit attached to it. Kelsey rushed into the bathroom, where he spotted a window above the toilet.

She tugged at the latch and shot him a frantic look.

“It won’t budge!”

The back door creaked open.

Gage forced the latch, then shoved up the windowpane. Kelsey turned and stuck her foot through, and Gage caught her under her arms and helped her balance as she stuck her other leg through and dropped down.

Footsteps in the living room.

The instant Kelsey disappeared, Gage poked his head out. All clear. He dove through the window and rolled onto his shoulder to break the fall. A bolt of pain shot down his arm as he got to his feet, and he rushed back to help Kelsey pull the window closed as a light went on in the hallway.

They crouched beneath the windowsill and pressed their backs flat against the siding, breathing heavily. Footsteps sounded in the bathroom. Gage heard the thunk of a toilet lid, followed by a loud waterfall of piss that seemed to go on forever. It sounded like he’d downed a full keg of beer. At last it subsided to a trickle. But then it came back again, and Kelsey turned and gave Gage a bug-eyed look. He nudged her ribs. She stifled a squeal and he clamped a hand over her mouth, but she pulled away from him and hunched into a ball to keep from laughing. Gage had the sudden urge to tackle her right there in the dirt and kiss her, even if it meant getting his ass shot off.

Finally a flush, and the bathroom light went off. Footsteps receded down the hall.

Gage looked at Kelsey and jerked his head in the direction of the barn. She followed him to the back of the house. Gage stuck his head around the corner and saw the white sedan that had pulled up while they were inside snooping around. Keeping well away from the halo of yellow created by the porch light, he led the way toward the greenhouse, which would provide cover.

Kelsey halted. She shot him a fearful look and pointed at the house.

The back window was open a good two inches.
Fuck.
Gage looked at Kelsey and saw the guilt on her face. She’d no doubt assumed they’d leave the same way they’d come. Rookie mistake, and it was too late to do anything about it now.

Gage tugged her into the shadow of the greenhouse. They needed to get out of here, ASAP. Once in the shadows, Gage stopped and listened. He heard the faint noise of a TV coming on. Maybe Weber wouldn’t notice the kitchen window until they were way the hell away. As a precaution, he slipped the pistol from his holster and took Kelsey’s hand to pull her deeper into the darkness. The moon was covered by clouds, which was good for cover. What wasn’t so good for cover was the lack of plants or rocks or man-made structures above eighteen inches tall within a mile of the house. Until they reached the truck, they were more or less out in the open.

Gage remembered the beer cans lining the counter. Any minute now, Weber would head into the kitchen
to grab a brew, and unless he was falling-down drunk, he’d notice the window. Gage pulled Kelsey along quickly, choosing speed over stealth.

The back door creaked open. Gage lunged for the barn. They crouched low beside it.

Kelsey leaned into him, and he felt her breath on his neck. “Think he knows we’re here?” she whispered.

Gage didn’t answer. The next instant, a beam of light swept over the dirt right in front of them. Kelsey scampered away and ducked into a door at the back of the barn. Gage darted after her.

The barn was cavernous and smelled like garbage. His eyes adjusted to the darker surroundings, and he could make out the vague outline of an old-fashioned pickup truck.

Psst!

He glanced at Kelsey, who was little more than a shadow. He picked his way through a minefield of junk and debris and joined her on the far wall, where she was watching the house through a gap in the wooden slats.

Outside the barn, a low voice.

Shit, were there two of them? Gage had only noted one set of footsteps. He shifted Kelsey aside to take a look and saw a medium-built, dark-haired man—presumably Weber—talking on a cell phone.

In his other hand was a pistol. Which meant he’d probably noticed the window.

“I’ve seen him somewhere,” Kelsey whispered.

“Where?”

She shook her head.

Chirp.

Gage spun around.

Chirp. Chirrrrp.

It was too dark to see the location of the birdcage, but it didn’t matter. Gage glanced through the gap in the boards again and saw that the man was now equipped with both a pistol and a flashlight as he tromped toward the barn.

Gage glanced around for cover, but he could hardly see. He pulled Kelsey toward the center of the room, where the truck was a hulking shadow.

Chirrrrp.

Kelsey tripped over something and stumbled into him as one of the barn’s big front doors squeaked open on rusty hinges. They ducked low beside the pickup. The man stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the yellow glow from the porch light.

He stepped into the barn. Beside Gage, Kelsey tensed. Gripping his SIG securely, Gage rested his hand on her thigh to remind her that he was armed.

Chirp. Chirrrrrp.

The man moved into the far corner and aimed his flashlight at yet another birdcage. This one sat on the ground amid a collection of rank-smelling trash bags.

Chirrrrrp.

He opened the cage and reached in. Gage heard the flap of feathers.

Chirp!

With the flick of his wrist, he snapped the bird’s neck, then flung it on the ground.

Gage stayed utterly still. Kelsey was still, too, except for her ever-tightening grip on his forearm.

The man made another sweep with his flashlight
and walked out, leaving the door open behind him. Footsteps on the back porch. A slamming door.

Gage glanced at Kelsey as they rose to their feet. She still had his arm in a vise-like grip.

“Do you smell something?” Her voice was barely audible.

“Trash.”

“Yeah, but something else, too.”

“Trash and bird crap. Come on, let’s go.” He pulled her, but she wouldn’t budge.

“Gage, I know that smell.”

The tone of her voice sent a chill down his spine.

“You mean . . . ?”

“I smell a corpse.”

CHAPTER 11

Gage whipped out his flashlight and swept it around. Bulging bags of garbage, tires, car parts. On the wall behind him was a row of empty metal cages in various shapes and sizes.

But no corpse.

“You sure it’s human?”

Kelsey didn’t answer him as she approached the pickup. Gage aimed the flashlight inside and illuminated a seat with ripped upholstery. He checked the floorboards. Nothing.

“Try this,” Kelsey said, reaching into the truck bed for a tarp that was draped over something bulky.

Gage grabbed her arm. They exchanged glances. He held his breath against the stench, which was impossible to ignore now that she’d identified it. Slowly, he peeled back the tarp.

And revealed a rusty bicycle frame.

Not even pausing to breathe a sigh of relief, Kelsey moved to an unexplored corner of the barn.

“It’s time to bug out,” he said. “He knows someone broke in while he was gone.”

Ignoring him, she bent down and peered under the truck. “Shine the light under there.”

Gage did. Nothing. He swept the narrow beam around and a sickening thought occurred to him as he once again noticed all the trash bags.

Kelsey was already approaching one of the piles.

“Oh my God.”

He joined her by a mound of bags that had been heaped on top of something. Or some
one
.

At least it used to be someone until another someone decapitated it.

Gage fought the urge to retch as Kelsey calmly took the flashlight from his hand and aimed it at the corpse.

“Shotgun blast,” she said softly, studying the body. Gage tried to pull her away from it, but she swatted his hand.

“That medical kit,” she said. “Does it have any bandages?”

“Think it’s a little late for that.”

“I need to collect some things.”

Gage shook his head. Any other woman he knew would have run screaming from this place, but Kelsey wanted to hang around and collect evidence.