Freedom

CHAPTER 10

While he believed they had gotten away clean, Dane kept checking his rear-view mirror for blue lights. He didn’t completely relax until they pulled up in front of a tall brownstone.

“Home, sweet home.” Jillian’s voice held a note of sadness. “My grandfather bought it in the 1940’s, and Daddy inherited it some thirty years ago.” Her voice cracked. “I may end up selling it and find a small place for me somewhere else. Too many bad memories here.”

Dane searched for words of comfort, but he couldn’t imagine the pain of losing a parent. Before he could think of something to say, his sharp eyes spotted something amiss.

“Did you see that?” He pointed at an upstairs window. “A flicker of light, like someone’s in there with a flashlight.”

“I don’t see anything.” Jillian’s voice was tight.

“Bones and I will go in first. Stay close to us.”

They walked in, but Dane didn’t let Jillian get too far inside, holding his hand out to keep her back. He suddenly wished he had his Walther P99. Oh well, nothing to be done about it now. He shut the door, careful not to let the click of the lock echo through the house.

Dane headed upstairs, taking each step with care. The third step from the top squeaked, causing him to pause and flinch. He filled his lungs with air and continued to the landing, wishing he had a weapon.

His heart hammering away, he eased into the room where he’d seen the light. The dull light from the streetlamp out front provided ample light, enough to see this was a study or office of some sort. Bookcases lined the walls, and a small desk sat in the bay window facing the street. The drawers were open and their contents strewn across the floor. Whoever had been there had gone. Dane and Bones made a quick search of the rest of the upstairs rooms with no success. When Dane turned to head downstairs, he noticed Jillian’s absence.

“Where’d she go?” he whispered.

“I don’t know. She was waiting in the hall a few seconds ago.”

A loud crash followed by an agonized scream broke the silence.

They pounded down the stairs, the screams echoing through the darkness. They reached the first floor and darted into the living area. Dane flipped on the light to reveal Jillian and a skinny man tangled on the floor. She had him in an ankle lock, pouring all her strength into flattening out the man’s foot. From the looks of things, and the way the man kept screaming and pounding his fists on the floor, she had already done some serious damage.

“Jillian!” Dane yelled. “Let go of him.”

“No!”

“He’s not going anywhere. We won’t let him.” Dane’s thoughts raced. Who was this guy and what did he want? He didn’t look like the men who had chased them the previous day.

“You got me, you got me,” the man wailed.

Bones grabbed Jillian and wrenched the man free from her grasp, pulling her away as Dane moved in quickly and stood over the fallen man.

“You try to run, and I’ll make what she did to you feel like a massage. You get me?” The man nodded and Dane grabbed his shoulder. “Get up.”

The intruder rose gingerly. After patting him down and finding nothing in the form of a weapon, Dane shoved him into a nearby chair. The man, favoring his injured ankle, nearly fell. He slumped down, glaring at Dane.

He was a weedy fellow with a patchy black beard and receding hair of the same color. His lip curled in a sneer, and he breathed hard through his nose. Perhaps he thought it a tough look, but his Vanilla Ice t-shirt ruined the effect.

Dane looked to Bones and saw Jillian break away from an embrace and hurry into the adjoining kitchen. He felt a brief pang of something, maybe jealousy, but suppressed it.

“She okay?” he asked.

“Yep.”

Dane firmed his jaw and turned back to the intruder. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

The man remained defiantly silent.

Bones brushed past Dane, smiled at the man, then struck him hard across the ear with his open hand. Their captive raised a hand to the side of his head and Bones kicked him in the stomach. The fellow doubled over and retched.

“Jillian,” Bones called, “you got salad tongs and a corkscrew in there?”

“Yeah, why?” Her voice was weak. Clearly, the break-in had shaken her.

“This dude needs a little eye surgery.”

“What are you gonna do to me?” Panic washed over the intruder’s face.

“Just something my ancestors have been doing to white men for centuries. I have to tell you it hurts. A lot.”

He blanched and a frightened moan escaped his lips.

Jillian re-entered the room, not looking at the intruder, and handed over the utensils.

“Grab me a knife, too, in case I want to scalp him.” Bones rubbed his hands together in anticipation while the man continued to moan. “Oh, shut up. Stop being a little wuss.”

“I guess we should call the police,” Dane said.

“Not yet. First, I want to extract some information.”

“Yeah, just question him and let him go,” Jillian called from the kitchen. “No need to involve the cops.”

Dane wanted to argue, but he thought he understood her reasoning. If the fellow knew about the lanterns, talking to the police could impede their search and potentially link them to the thefts. “I’m going to ask again. What’s your name?”

The fellow’s lips moved, but he uttered no sound. Running out of patience, Dane grabbed him by the front of the shirt, hauled him to his feet, and relieved him of the contents of his pockets: a flashlight, wallet, and Swiss army knife. He took out the license and read the name aloud.

“Roger Drinkel.”

“All right, Roger,” Bones shoved him back into the chair, “I’ve got questions for you, but first I’ve got to tell you why you’re stupid. You know why I’m going to do that?”

Drinkel shook his head.

“Because I hate stupid people. Almost as much as I hate rednecks. First off,” he held up a finger, “never use a flashlight. Pull the curtains and turn the light on. People come home, they see a light on inside the house, they figure they just forgot to turn it off. They see a flashlight beam flickering around, they know something’s up.”

Drinkel’s facet turned a deep shade of red.

“Second, never carry your ID with you. Do I need to explain why?”

Drinkel held his silence, staring up at Bones through eyes that burned with resentment.

“Cool, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to tell me who you’re with and why you’re here. You leave anything out, or give me reason to believe you’re lying, I’m going to hurt you until I’m bored, then kill you and dump your body in the Charles River. You ready to talk?

Drinkel looked from Bones to Dane, gulped, took a deep breath, and let it out in a rush. His resolve deflated like a balloon.

“All right, but you didn’t hear this from me.”