Disco Bomb

Chapter 7

May 14th, 2017. 12:00 AM

Since I wanted Jack to stay for the night but didn't want him to sleep with me or on the couch, I'd dug through the closet and found a sleeping bag for him. Ross was absolutely ecstatic about this latest discovery and found a matching bag, demanding we all camp outside. I passed, because there were only two and I was secretly afraid of them ever since my first sleepover. When I was ten, my friend Maddie invited me for a sleepover... And closed the bag on me. So the two guys slept outside while I stayed in the relative comfort of my bed.

Until I decided that I could not go to sleep without getting a drink and making sure they hadn't been killed. In my mind, Westshire Village was a hotspot for organized crime. I'd left once; murder followed.

   Maybe it was just me.

I quietly walked to the kitchen, peeking through the screen door into the backyard. Ross was fast asleep, one arm holding his stuffed panda in a death grip. Jack was a few feet away, hands under his head and somehow sleeping. I've never found that position to be comfortable, but I shrugged it off and opened the fridge.

My phone started vibrating on the counter. I didn't recognize the number, so I was tempted to ignore it. It could be a ransom, a voice in my head chimed. So the phone went to my ear and my thumb hit the answer button. "Hello?"

"Midnight and I already have your full attention," a voice said on the other side. It wasn't any man I knew, yet he said the words like a casual discussion at a party.

"Actually, half of that attention is on how thirsty I am."

"I hope you're thirsty for blood then, Scott. I have a sniper, and unless you cooperate, that little boy is getting a bullet in the brains."

I quickly looked outside to where the two were snoozing in bright orange sleeping bags. All that was missing was a giant neon sign saying "Come get me!"

"And then your police friend," the voice continued, "will wake up and see him dead and you in the kitchen, on the phone. He'll also remember you have a loaded gun in your purse."

I froze, debating whether or not Jack would actually think I killed Ross. As a former investigator, his job was to consider every possibility. But if this man had a sniper, then the shots would be fired from above, possibly hitting the forehead. If I were going to kill my nephew from here, the bullet would hit the top of his head because he was facing away from me. Jack wasn't that stupid.

But why was I thinking that as if I'd just let a sniper kill my nephew? "What do you need?"

"Good, good." Good God was more accurate. "There's a package in your mailbox. Deliver it to the address I'm about to tell you."

Once he told me the address, I slipped on shoes and a robe and walked outside. I opened the mailbox to find a heavy cardboard box inside, and took it out. As much as I wanted to take the car and get it done soon, the engine starting would wake Ross and Jack. And if they woke up, they were dead. So I ran.

The address turned out to be a house, a small, two-story with new paint and a good garden. I could see gardenias, zinnias and hibiscus flowers lined up in the front yard, a tall tree, and bushes with small, purple flowers I'd forgotten the name of. It didn't look like anyone was home. I'd almost forgotten I was still on the phone. "Now what?"

"How fast can you run?"

"If this is going to kill anyone, tell me now."

"How. Fast. Can. You. Run."

"Pretty damn fast, considering I got here in five minutes." Five! A police technician can trace a call in thirty seconds, and we'd spent five minutes in silence. Guilt knotted my stomach.

"Good. You're going to carefully place it on the pineapple welcome mat, ring the doorbell, and run like hell."

Whoever was in that house was in for one hell of a surprise. I swallowed hard and put the phone in my pocket, not turning it off in case the man had further instructions. This was definitely going to kill someone. It could be a bomb or poison gas or even a toxic reptile. And I was responsible for listening to a crazy stranger.

I put the box on the doorstep.

I rung the doorbell.

And ran all the way home like Satan was chasing me. When I got home, I put the phone to my ear one last time. "Done. Now stay the hell away from me and them."

The voice chuckled. "There never was any sniper."