Majoring in Murder

Chapter 30

When I pulled into our driveway, my mom's minivan was missing from its usual place, but my dad's Acura was where he normally parked it to the side of the garage. I was relieved to see that there were no strange cars waiting for me, in the driveway or on the street as I went to the house.

I got out of my car and jogged to the front door. I tried turning the knob. It was locked. A good sign, since my parents never lock the front door unless they are away or in bed. I shoved my key in the slot, twisted, and let myself in.

"Mom?" I shouted when I stepped inside.

There was no answer. I guessed she was successful persuading everyone to leave as I'd asked. I still hadn't decided what I was going to tell them when they bombarded me with questions about why I called in a panic and told them to leave the house. That didn't matter then. I would handle that when the time came.

I ran upstairs to my room, gathered some clothes, and shoved them into a backpack. I saw the bottle of Wild Turkey in my sock drawer, took it out, and held it up. My hands trembled as I swished the brown liquid around inside. There was about a half-glass full. I wanted it. I wanted it bad. Instead, I put it back under my socks and underwear and closed the drawer.

I pulled my t-shirt over my head and winced when the fabric scraped against the tender skin on my shoulder. There was no iodine in the medicine cabinet in the upstairs bathroom my sisters and I shared, but there was alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. Being the wuss that I am, I opted for the peroxide instead of the burning alcohol and doused the cut. The peroxide effervesced as it worked at cleansing the site. I patted it dry, applied some gauze, taped it in place, and put on a new shirt. I slung the backpack over my good shoulder and started to leave the house. Before I pulled the front door closed, I realized I didn't have a weapon on me. This was certainly no time for anyone to catch me empty-handed, so I ran back upstairs and took my dad's model 1911 .45 from the top drawer of his bureau. He claimed to keep it for home defense, but I doubted he had ever fired the thing, practice or otherwise.

I ejected the clip and found it was full. Next, I pulled back the slide and ejected the round that was in the chamber. I mashed the single bullet back into the clip, inserted it back in the gun, and depressed the slide release button, which fed a fresh round into the chamber. After carefully lowering the hammer, I tucked the gun into my waistband and went downstairs.

I started out the front door again, but I saw something that stopped me in my tracks. A black Buick Lacrosse sat across from our driveway. It hadn't been there a moment ago.

A man in a black sports coat and sunglasses sat in the front seat. I saw the glow of his cigarette when he raised his hand to his mouth. Someone else was in the passenger seat, but I couldn't see them very well for the shadows. However, I did see the passenger nudge the driver and that's when the driver looked in my direction. He exhaled a plume of smoke and tossed the smoldering butt out the window. The driver's door swung open and the smoking man stepped out. He didn't look familiar, but he didn't look friendly either.

I was glad I had resisted my temptation to drink the Wild Turkey in my room. If ever there was a time for me to be sharp, it was now.

I quickly stepped back inside, shut the door, and peeked through the lace curtain covering the small rectangular window next to the door. My heart was jack hammering as I watched the driver reach the end of the driveway and wait for the passenger. When the other man caught up, they walked casually toward our house, glancing from side to side as they approached.

When they got to the walkway leading to the front door, they separated. The passenger continued toward the fence gate that divides the backyard from the front while the driver turned toward the steps of the porch. I locked the deadbolt, tossed my backpack on the sofa, and pulled the .45 out of my waistband. I stood about ten feet from the front door and watched the man's shadow appear through the lace curtains. The knob jiggled then stopped. The man followed it with a light knock on the door.