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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Greg Jones was walking back to the house when he saw a car he thought he recognized. Being one of two cops in a small town of only 1600 meant you got to know nearly everyone, nearly everyone’s car, their children, their dogs and their histories. Greg thought this yellow Honda looked like one that Peter Merring used to drive, but had since given to his kid Cody to use while studying to be an EMT. But the car was on the wrong side of town. Not only did small town cops get to know all about a town’s population, but Greg had learned their habits, and it was rare to see some cars ever travel to the opposite side of town. Most people stayed in their own little orbits, taking the same roads at the same times to the same jobs for twenty to thirty years.
Greg slid up next to the house and hid in the darkness as he approached the front, trying to see if this was Cody Merring driving the Accord. Peering through the darkness in the dead of the night, he thought he could see someone who looked like Cody Merring, but the shape in the back seat was what made the hair on the back of Greg Jones’ head begin to stand. He thought he could see someone crouched just over the seat, looking toward John Graham’s house. The dark shape in the backseat moved its head toward the house, and as the car passed, continued to look at the house, moving to the back of the seat. Then the car went past the last two houses and turned left. Greg ran to the corner and tried to see if the car was going straight, but he arrived just in time to see it turn left again. Greg thought to himself they must be circling the block. He decided his best defense would be to get to the driveway of the Graham house rather than risk running across the road when they returned. He dashed across the street and stood in the shadows of the open carport. Peering into the street. The car didn’t return, but Greg decided to be patient and wait. They would be back.
“Stop the car,” Ray barked out as they arrived at the far side of the city block. There were fewer houses here, but Ray told Cody to stop in front of one of the houses and park. “Turn off the car and get the keys. Go to the back and open up the trunk.”
Cody knew what the drill would be, and trying his best to still think of something that would help, he moved slower than usual, hoping the gunman wouldn’t recognize the pace. As they approached the trunk, Cody even thought about grabbing the gun, but thought better of it, realizing he would probably end up dead, and then Ray would go kill Mr. Graham anyway. He opened the lid and began to climb in.
“Not so fast,” Ray half-whispered, trying not to draw attention to two men standing over a trunk in the middle of the night. “Pull out some duct tape or rope.”
Cody did as he was told, and the grey roll of tape that had been placed in the trunk to help for emergencies was about to become his captor. Cody put his hands behind his back. Ray wasn’t buying.
“Put your hands in front of you, and you start the tape around your wrists,” he said to Cody. It sounded impossible, but a man was holding a gun telling him to tape his wrists, so he pulled a short section out and pushed it on his left wrist, then tried to pull it over the wrist with his right hand. Ray kept the gun in his hand and grabbed the tape. Once stuck to Cody’s left wrist, Ray simply pulled the tape around the two wrists several times, then around the middle several times. There was no need to cut the roll. Ray left it hanging between Cody’s wrists. “Now get in the trunk,” he said, motioning with his gun.
Cody Merring did as he was told, and hoped that this guy was not going to just shoot the trunk with bullet holes and leave him for dead. But even this idiot isn’t that stupid, Cody thought, and resigned himself to darkness for a while.
Smitty arranged for the details of Skinner’s plans. It might just work, but they would have to buy some time. If there were hostages involved, there usually was some negotiating time allowed by both sides, so Smitty was too worried about getting all the pieces in place to make it work. It would be so much easier if the guy would just run out of the house with his guns blazing, and just like the shoot-outs of the wild west, Smitty would only need one clear shot and this whole situation would be concluded. But it rarely happened so simply, and the complications were what threw off the best laid plans. The devil is in the details.
Smitty was hoping for no more complications.
Greg Jones heard his breath in the crisp night air, and listened for any other noises. There was no car noise within the few blocks of this house, so the car must have stopped shortly after turning the corner, and was probably just on the other side of the block. If that was Raymond Johnson Greg had seen in the back of Cody’s car, he would now be on his way to the Graham house. Greg had an advantage in knowing the layout of the block, and the three possible routes to the house. The big brick wall the Seaver’s had built would be the first obstacle, but that didn’t extend the whole block. The back of the Grahams’ house was still old barb-wire farm fences from when animals were kept here. The ways to the back of the house were open fields with some obstacles. Raymond Johnson could also just walk around the block and approach from the front, but from what Greg had learned studying burglaries, he knew the back entrance was preferred. But how to cover the front and the back, and not miss Johnson trying to get into the house?
Greg decided to retreat a bit to the other side of the street, but just up from the house they had been using for the stakeout. It would give him a clear view of the house from the side, the front, and he would be able to see anyone approaching from the back. It might slow his response time, Greg thought, but that was only important if this Johnson guy got into the house. Greg was hoping for a clear shot. After a warning, of course.
Raymond Johnson smiled to himself and crept along the side of the Graham yard. It couldn’t have provided better cover, since the bushes were taller than him and solid from the back to the front. He had got stuck on one piece of barbed wire, but that was easily fixed and now he was approaching the house. He hid in the shadows next to the tall bridal wreath stems, which had lost their leaves but not the ability to hide him.
He could see two rear entrances. There was the upper deck he had anticipated, with a sliding glass door and a large alarm sticker big enough for Ray to see from his vantage point fifty feet out. That would be the big alarm door, where the sirens would sound if it was entered. The other door at the back side of the lower level of the split-level home would be a sounded alarm, but not one that would wake the neighbors. Ray hated alarms, and usually just passed by when he saw the posted signs. But the money he wanted was inside this house, and alarm or not, he was going to get in.
There was a window next to the lower door, small, perhaps for a bathroom, but still big enough for him to get into. There were larger, bedroom windows still further to the west, but these would probably also be alarmed. Ray decided to gamble a bit, and decided that whoever put in the alarm system was too lazy to put switches on the smaller window. The installer had probably convinced John Graham that anyone trying to break in on the ground floor would use the larger windows, and not this small one. Ray could even hear the salesman pitching this in his head, convincing the idiot that the estimate would have to be rewritten if they included this small window, which of course, no one would use. Except Ray.
Cody had almost immediately began to try to find the latch in the trunk. He remembered reading about child release latches in some cars so they wouldn’t get trapped inside, and even if there was no latch, he might still be able to flip the hatch open. His fingers were free, so they danced across the metal strips, pulling and tugging, but none of the manipulations seemed to do anything. He was just about to turn and kick the latch open, when something clicked in the assembly. He stopped what he was doing and tried to push it the trunk lid up. It floated upwards and sat upright. The night sky was filled with stars and the air was crisp.
As he climbed out of the trunk, which is difficult enough without having both hands tied together, he tried to think if there was a knife or razor in the trunk he could use to cut his duct tape handcuffs. Then he realized having his hands free was not as important as trying to stop what was about to happen to Mr. Graham. He began to run, slowly, around the block, waving both hands before him. Cody never realized how valuable hands were to balance in running until just now, and his concentration was focused on not falling over.
Ray had crept up to the window unseen by Greg. Officer Jones had been looking the wrong direction when he crossed the short 3 feet of uncovered area from the shrubs to the back of the house, and as Ray sat looking at the window, he smiled broadly, not believing his luck. Not only did he not see any sign of wires inside the lightly frosted glass, but the outer pane of the double-pane window was already cracked. All he would have to do is stick his elbow where the window was broken, and a light tap is all it would take to break it open.
Ray quickly scanned the backyard, and then laughed quietly to himself. If there was anyone watching him, they would have seen him cross the lawn already. But it was a habit to check the landscape. Then Ray laughed at another “security” measure taken by most people. He wondered if there was a dowel of wood just inside the window, lying in the track to stop bad people like him from sneaking in the windows. Maybe if there was, Ray thought to himself, I’ll pick it up just after I break the window, and save it for a souvenir.
Greg was having trouble concentrating on the house. It was taking far too long for Johnson to cross to the house if that had been him in the car. There were no noises, no barking dogs, no cars driving – even in the outlying areas. It was all too quiet. Scanning from the front sides to the back, Greg thought about Paula sleeping in this house next to him, and wondered if he should wake her and tell her what was going on. Then Greg thought he heard the dull thuds of footfalls. Someone’s feet were thumping their way around the block to his left, and he withdrew further back into the shadows. None of this was making any sense, and Greg was beginning to doubt that he had really seen anything at all. Maybe Cody Herring had a new girlfriend on this side of town that Greg didn’t know about, and was on this side of town for a late night rendezvous. But still Greg Jones held his pistol in front of him, waiting to see what was making that strange shuffling noise.
Around the corner came Cody Herring, who seemed to have his wrists bound. He was running as best he could with both arms hanging in front of him, and seemed determined to run up to the front door of the Graham residence. Greg had recognized him immediately, but had hesitated only a moment when he realized where Cody was going. Greg ran quickly across the street to intercept Cody before he got to the Graham house, and was going to tackle him to get him to stop if that was necessary. As Greg neared, Cody heard him coming and turned and slowed his run. Greg grabbed the boy by the shoulders and hustled him to the carport of the house next the Grahams house, and steadied Cody next to him in the shadows. All was quiet.
Ray had been waiting for some kind of noise to help cover the sound of crunching glass, so when he heard some shuffling of the tree leaves in the front yard he pushed his elbow once. It bounced back, and hitting his other hand with a fist just a little harder, the glass gave way hardly making any sound at all. It sounded as if someone had dropped a heavy book on the cement. Ray began to pick the shard out of the way of the window handle, and pulling it from the inside, grabbing the short dowel he correctly assumed was there. Slowly pushing the window back, Raymond Johnson slowly crept into the house of John Graham, determined to leave a richer man than he entered.
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