Stephenie Meyer - The Chemist

Daniel hummed as he worked, a familiar-sounding tune that she couldn’t place at first. She caught herself humming along a few minutes later. Without seeming to realize he was doing it, Daniel started to sing the words.

“‘Guilty feet have got no rhythm,’” he sang.

“Isn’t that song older than you are?” she asked after a moment.

He seemed surprised. “Oh, was I singing that out loud? Sorry, I tend to do that when I cook if I don’t keep a strict hold on myself.”

“How do you even know the words?”

“I’ll have you know that to this day, ‘Careless Whisper’ remains a very popular song on the karaoke circuit. I kill it on eighties night.”

“You’re into karaoke?”

“Hey, who says schoolteachers don’t know how to party?” He stepped away from the stove, sauce-covered spoon still in his right hand, and pulled her into a loose embrace with his left. He danced her once around a small circle, pressing his rough cheek against hers, while singing, “‘Pain is ah-all you’ll find…’” Then he turned back to the stove, dancing in place while he sang cheerfully about how he was never going to dance again.

Don’t be an idiot, her mind told her as the goofy smile stretched across her face again.

Shut up, her body responded.

Daniel didn’t have a voice that belonged on the air, but it was a pleasant, light tenor, and he made up for any deficiencies with his enthusiasm. By the time they heard the dogs greet Arnie at the door, they were in the middle of a passionate duet of “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” Alex quit singing immediately, her face flushing, but Daniel seemed oblivious both to her cowardice and to Arnie’s entrance.

“‘I really need you tonight!’” he belted out as Arnie came through the door, shaking his head. It made Alex wonder if Kevin was ever any fun or if it was just business all the time when he and Arnie were here alone.

Arnie didn’t comment, just shut the screen door behind him, letting the fresh warm air mix with the smells of garlic, onion, and tomato. Now that it was dark outside and light inside, she’d have to make sure he closed the exterior door before she or Daniel went into the part of the room that would be visible to anyone watching.

“Anything from the dogs?” she asked Arnie.

“Nope. You would have heard them if they’d found anything.”

She frowned. “The story didn’t run.”

Alex and Arnie exchanged a look. Arnie’s eyes cut to Daniel’s back, then returned to her. She knew what he was asking, and she shook her head no. No, she hadn’t talked to Daniel about Kevin and what his silence could mean. Arnie’s eyes did that subtle tightening thing that seemed to be his only physical tell for stress.

For Arnie’s sake, they’d have to get out as soon as possible. If anyone connected Daniel and Alex to this house, it would put Arnie in danger. She hoped he would understand about the truck.

Dinner was subdued. Even Daniel seemed to catch the mood. She decided she would tell him her fears about Kevin as soon as they were alone. It would be nice to allow him one more night of decent sleep, but they should probably leave before first light.

After they were finished – and not a noodle had survived; Arnie would miss this part of having houseguests, at least – she helped clear while Arnie went to turn on the news. The story lineup was repetitively familiar. She felt like she could recite along with the anchorwoman word for word. Arnie hadn’t already watched three rounds today; he settled into the couch.

Alex rinsed the plates and handed them to Daniel to load. One of the dogs whined through the screen door; probably Lola. Alex hoped she hadn’t spoiled them too much this afternoon. She’d never thought she was a dog person, but she realized she was going to miss the warm and friendly inclusion of the pack. Maybe someday – if Kevin was somehow still alive and well and the plan was operable after all – she might get herself a dog. If all the happy thoughts were real, maybe Kevin would even sell her Lola. It probably wasn’t a practical -

A low, fast thud interrupted her thoughts – it was a sound that didn’t belong. Even as her eyes were moving toward Daniel, looking for a dropped utensil or a slammed cupboard that would explain the noise, her mind was leaping ahead. Before her body had realigned with her brain, a huge baying cry erupted from the porch, along with a vicious growling. Another thud, quieter beside the hullabaloo of the dogs, and the baying broke off into a shocked and pained yelp.

She tackled Daniel to the ground while he was still turning toward the door. He outweighed her by a lot, but he was off balance and went down easy.

“Shhh,” she hissed fiercely in his ear, then she crawled over him to the edge of the island and peered around. She couldn’t see Arnie. She looked at the screen door – a small round hole was torn through the center of the top panel. She tried to listen over the sound of the dogs and the TV, but she couldn’t hear any sound from where Arnie should be.

It had to be a distance shot or the dogs would have seen it coming.

“Arnie!” she hoarsely whisper-shouted.

There was no response.

She slithered to the dining-room table, where her backpack was propped against the leg of the chair she’d used. She ripped her PPK out of its Ziploc bag, then slid it across the floor to Daniel. She needed both hands.

Daniel snagged the gun when it was halfway to the island and leaned around the edge. He hadn’t practiced with a handgun, but at this distance that wouldn’t matter terribly much.

She shoved her rings on and flung the belt around her waist.

Daniel was on his feet in a fraction of a second, bracing his elbows on top of the counter. He didn’t look at all conflicted about his ability to fire. She scuttled to the nearby wall where the dining room jutted out from the great room. As she moved, she saw a hand shoving the handle down – but it wasn’t a hand. It was a black furry paw.

So Kevin had chosen not to go with the standard round doorknob for more reasons than aesthetics.

She breathed again as Einstein burst into the room, Khan and the Rottweiler close on his heels. She could hear Lola panting pained cries outside, and her teeth ground together.

While the dogs congregated silently around Daniel, forming a furry shield, she got her fighting shoes on and shoved the garrote wire into one pocket, the wooden handles into the other.

“Give the command,” she whispered to Daniel.

The shooter would be running in now, though he would have to be on the lookout for the dogs. If he had the option, he’d switch the distance rifle for something that made bigger holes. Dogs like these would keep coming through a lot of hurt.

“Escape protocol?” Daniel whispered uncertainly.

Einstein’s ears quivered. He gave a quiet cough of a bark, then trotted to the far end of the kitchen and whined.

“Follow him,” Alex instructed Daniel. She darted across the space between the wall and the island, keeping herself in a low crouch.

Daniel started to straighten, but before she could say anything, Einstein hurtled over and caught Daniel’s hand in his mouth. He yanked Daniel back to the ground.

“Keep low,” she translated in a whisper.

Einstein led them toward the laundry room, as Alex had expected, with Khan and the Rottweiler bringing up the rear. As she ducked from the great room to the darkened hallway, she tried to see Arnie. She could see only one hand at first, unmoving, but then she spied splatter against the far wall. It was obvious that there was brain matter mixed in with the blood. So there was no point in trying to drag him with them. It was too late for Arnie. And the shooter was obviously a marksman. The good news just kept coming.