Elizabeth Stewart - Harm’s Way

She looked at him blankly for a moment, the child Elgin caught between the familiar and the foreign. It took her a second to get back.

“Uh…probably in his pocket. He keeps them with him until he gets ready for bed at night.”

“Damn! That means he’s probably got the SUV keys too.” Harm took a deep breath and stood silent. “Okay, where’s the phone? We’ll call the police, tell them what’s going on and then head for the nearest neighbor.”

“It…it used to be on a little table by the sofa in the living room. The sheriff and his deputies are probably all out directing traffic and doing crowd control for the fireworks and all the neighbors around here are probably down at the fireworks too.” Harm could hear the panic creeping into her voice.

“It’s all right. When they hear what’s going on, I’m sure they’ll send someone. And if we don’t find any neighbors home, maybe we can find an unlocked car I can hotwire. We can’t stay here.”

Nodding, she turned and they ran into the living room, Elgin leading the way to the phone. It was an old-fashioned thing, heavy and black with a rotary dial. Harm grabbed up the receiver and reached for the dial. Instead, a look of confusion and uncertainty clouded his face and he pounded the small black receiver hook several times.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I picked up the phone, got a dial tone and…and then it just went dead.”

Terror showed again in Elgin’s eyes, the color draining from her face.

“Let’s go,” he ordered, throwing down the receiver, grabbing her arm and taking a step toward the front door, all it seemed to her in one fluid motion.

Something roared behind them; a great, enraged Grizzly howl that filled the room with its deafening power, freezing them in mid-stride.

Instinctively they turned to the roar, fear washing over them like the massive sound waves.

A creature that had once been Jim Fisher stood just in the kitchen door. Fury shook his body, now covered in his own blood, one eye swollen shut, the automatic like a child’s toy in his huge paw.

“Bitch!” he screamed. “Whore! Tramp!”

Harm edged himself between her and the monster.

“It’s over Fisher,” he bluffed calmly. “I called 9-1-1 before you pulled the plug. The sheriff will be here any minute.”

“Liar!” he bellowed. “Thief! Whoremonger! You didn’t call anyone. But you’re right…it is over for the both of you. I don’t care about having you anymore, you faithless harlot. You teasing, heartless cunt. You’re not my Ellie…you’re that dirty book writer, Gillian Shelby. I can’t believe that I was taken in by you and your sweet smile and warm caress.

“I’m going to kill this pretty little cock of yours just the way I said. One piece at a time. Then I’m going to choke the life out of you with my bare hands.”

The room seemed to lurch suddenly, swaying with a dizzying wobble, Elgin’s knees growing too weak to hold her up, her stomach turning Olympic caliber back flips. She wanted to be sick, to pass out, to scream. All of them seemed to be running through her at once, vying for first chance.

And then the fireworks started. A loud bang and a little bug whizzed by her ear, so close she could hear the whine of it going by. Another explosion and a dart of fire. Elgin could feel the room spinning like a top. Disoriented, she heard firecrackers popping behind her and a crack like shattering glass. The acrid smell and faint haze of smoke filled her lungs. Crowd noises as the fireworks built to a climax. Screams and shouts. People pushing past her. Camp going down on his knees to give her a better view.

“Elgin?”

“Marty?”

“Are you all right, Dear?” he asked anxiously, taking her shoulders and looking her up and down. “You aren’t hurt are you?”

“No…I think I’m all right…” She cocked her head quizzically to one side, the reality of his sudden presence just sinking in. “What are you…?”

Behind him, Chad knelt on the kitchen floor beside two long, denim-clad legs.

A soft moan at her feet attracted her attention. Looking down, she saw Tom although it looked like him but different somehow. Instead of his slow movements and slightly disconnected speech, he squatted beside Camp, ripping his red shirt, speaking quickly, decisively and…

Camp’s shirt was white. And why was he lying on the floor?

Screaming, she dropped to her knees, tears flowing like the blood from the hole in his chest, streaming down his side and spreading on the highly polished wooden floor and being absorbed by her dress.

“Shhh,” Harm soothed, reaching for her hand and bringing it softly to his lips. “It’s okay.”

“Camp!”

“Shhh,” he repeated. With a grin, he moved his head in Tom’s direction. “Elgin Collier, I’d like you to meet Charlie Simons. Charlie, this is the beautiful lady I’ve been telling you about.”

“Miss Collier,” Charlie responded politely. “Camp’s told me a lot about you.”

“Charlie? But I thought your name was Tom.” Confusion mingled with panic about Harm, the lingering terror of Fisher and relief at the unexpected, dramatic arrival of the trio. “I…I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

Chad came up behind Charlie and handed him several folded dishcloths. As he took them, he glanced into the other man’s solemn face. Almost imperceptibly, he moved his head from side to side. Charlie nodded ever so slightly and returned to Harm.

“I work with Camp,” he explained, rolling three of the cloths together and pressing them to Harm’s chest. “He sent me up here before you arrived to scout things out and get settled in. Become part of the scenery so I could keep an eye on all our players without attracting attention.

“Here, press down as hard as you can.” Taking her hands, Charlie crossed them and put them on the towel. “Lean on it. You’re not going to break anything and we need to stop or at least slow down the bleeding.”

Rising, he grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and went into the kitchen.

“Apparently,” Marty continued, “Chad, Fisher and I became the prime suspects. Mr. Simons tells me that my summer houseboy, Ernesto, is actually one of Mr. Harm’s agents. Pity. Wonderful young man and very efficient. I’d planned to keep him on after Labor Day.”

“And,” Chad added, “it turns out my housekeeper, Mary, works for Mr. Harm as well.”

“Mr. Simons only attended my party to watch Fisher and to keep a pre-arranged meeting with Harm. When he discovered you both gone and being unfamiliar with most of the people there, he had no choice but to reveal himself to me and ask for my help in determining if anyone else had gone missing.

“Having already discovered that your ‘secretary’ was in fact a private detective and that both of you might be in grave danger, I made a quick circuit of my guests. I discovered Fisher gone and that he’d given one of my waiters a note to give you. Well, it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure it out.”

“I saw Tom and Marty huddling and looking worried,” Chad picked up the story, “so I decided to see what they were up to. Followed them to Marty’s den where I eavesdropped and found out everything including the fact that Fisher might be a homicidal stalker.”

“Broke in,” Marty smiled. “Demanded to be part of the posse.”

“But why didn’t you just call the sheriff?” Elgin asked, glancing up from the towels now starting to turn red.

“Because as Mr. Simons pointed out,” Marty answered, “we had no way of knowing if Fisher actually had you and if he did, where he might be holding you. Not to mention that if he had abducted you, the sight of police cars might have caused him to do something drastic. So we decided to reconnoiter as it were. Since this place is only about ten minutes from my house, it seemed the logical place to start.”