James Moore - Blood Red

“Angie? What’s wrong?”

Her voice was hoarse and tense. “You want to tell me why the bank called four times today, Brian?”

“What did they call about, honey?”

“About the fact that we have no money, and seven checks have bounced since this morning. How’s that for a starter?”

Brian felt his stomach fall a few stories and took a deep breath. “I can explain that.”

“Good! Because I’m sick to death of this shit, Brian!”

“It was a mistake, I already talked to the bank and everything should be fine in the morning. Something about a hacker trying to steal from a bunch of accounts.” This was closer to the truth than he liked to think about, but it made the lie easier.

She opened her mouth to speak and the phone rang. The idea of his wife grabbing the phone to speak to the man blackmailing him for screwing college trim on the side sent Brian Freemont leaping across the room. The end table with the phone was next to Angie’s right hand. He knocked her arm out of the way as he grabbed the receiver.

“Hello?” Angie shot him a murderous glance and he in turn looked as apologetic as he could.

“Officer Freemont?”

“Yes, this is me.”

“One second.” He could hear the man moving through the underbrush. “How many boxes did you put out here?”

“Four. They should all be together.” This was the moment he needed to worry about the most. He chewed on his lip and did his best not to sound too stressed.

Everything depended on the caller taking the boxes with him.

“I see four boxes; we’re off to a good start here, Officer. Hold on for me.”

“Of course.” Angie was standing now, her face set into an ugly expression of hatred and disappointment. Brian felt like a slug. He was responsible for everything and he knew it, but he was also trying to make it all right again. If she would let him, and the little bastard would take the bait.

“I have the packages. If everything checks out, you will have your life back in two hours.”

“I understand, thank you.”

“Officer? Do I have to explain what will happen if you try to pull a fast one?”

“No, of course not.”

“Have a good night.”

Brian hung up the phone and looked at Angie. “That was the bank. Everything is settled.”

“Seriously?” She smiled a tentative, nervous little smile. Her face was suddenly beautiful again.

“Yeah, babe. Seriously, it’s all taken care of.” He moved to her and she hugged him tightly, awkwardly shifting a bit to protect their unborn child. That thought suddenly filled him with wonder. He had a child coming into the world. A new life that was forming in the belly of the woman he’d married and promised to love, honor, and respect.

Something had to change. He knew that. He just didn’t want it to. He liked his secret life, and he liked the power to screw with girls’ minds and leave them worrying.

He didn’t want to give that up.

So, of course, he had made proper provisions.

For the next hour or so, he was going to stay home. Then he would go back to the car and find his little Radio Shack tracking device, the one he’d slipped into the cardboard box that was probably being carried away right now.

And then he would make good and damned sure that someone never messed with him again.

Angie kissed his mouth and he kissed back, remembering all the reasons that he loved her. She was sore and pregnant, and she still wanted him.

Really, that was all he’d ever wanted out of life, to be needed. And if he was getting a little on the side, it was just gravy.

They made love, carefully, but they made love. This was different. Angie was special. She wasn’t like the girls he spent time with. She didn’t cry when it was happening, or when it was over.

Avery Tripp slipped out of the house as carefully as he could. The folks were still busy “talking,” which made it a little easier. Talking was what they called it whenever they needed down time and decided to close the bedroom door. He had no idea what they were up to, but it left Dad in a good mood, so it couldn’t be a bad thing.

The yard was dark, but the lawn was so precisely mowed it could have been done by the barber that handled his crew cut, so he wasn’t worried. Besides, he knew the way to Teddy’s place like the back of his hand.

Teddy left school early and he hated when that happened. His best friend was his main reason for going to school in the first place. Okay, and because his folks would boil him in oil if he didn’t. But mainly it was because Teddy was there and he was cool to hang around with.

The road was well-lit and the lawns on either side of him offered exactly enough bushes—because the people here liked their privacy—to let him move toward the Lister place without any fear of being discovered.

He saw the crows looking down at him and stopped in his tracks. They were everywhere, great skulking black shadows that moved and from time to time chattered softly to each other.

Mostly they just looked at him. Avery looked back, smiling at the gathering. What was it Dad said they were called when they were all together like that? “A murder of crows,” he said, savoring the title. He liked the sound of that.

The birds didn’t intimidate him; they were just birds. So Avery started down the way again, listening for cars and minding his own business. Jayce Thornton was playing havoc with his thoughts lately. She was cute. He liked her. He also knew that if she spoke to him, he would explode into flames.

The last time she’d talked to him had been to see if she could borrow his notes after she had to stay home for a day. He’d had to write them up for her, because he could barely even read his own handwriting on the originals, and he’d been drawing stuff all along the edges. Nothing dirty, just things he didn’t want anyone to see.

These days he always made a copy of his notes, just in case. Funny thing about that: His grades had gotten way better ever since he had decided to make copies. If there was a connection, he refused to see it.

“It’s rather late to be out by yourself, don’t you think?” The voice belonged to a stranger, and Avery froze in his tracks. He looked around and saw the man a moment later, but he almost had to strain to make him out.

Dark black clothes hid most of his body, and heavy shadows obscured a good part of his face. But he was smiling pleasantly enough.

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” It was a good line to use when he was nervous. The man made him want to run screaming.

“Yes. I think maybe you’re not supposed to be out walking alone this time of night, either.”

Okay. The guy had him dead to rights on that one.

The stranger held out one hand and Avery watched as two of the crows on the phone lines above his head lowered like leaves in a graceful fall, to settle on the man’s opened palm and forearm. “Where are you going so late in the evening, my young friend?”

“Whoa! How did you do that?” Avery forgot himself and talked far louder than he meant to, the excitement of watching the crows taking away his fear of being busted.

“They’re friendly birds when you know how to talk to them. Would you like to hold one?”

“Can I?” He walked forward and held out his hand, reaching eagerly.

“Carefully. They are easily startled. They must come to you; you must not come to them.”

Avery nodded and stopped, holding his hand like he’d seen the man do before. “What makes them so nervous?”

“Look at yourself. You are as big as twenty of them. How would you feel if a giant reached out to grab you without warning?” The man’s eyes looked into his, amusement emphasizing the light crow’s feet around the dark pupils. Then he moved his hand closer to Avery’s and the crow bobbed its head three times before walking sullenly over to stand on Avery’s palm. The feet were cold and black; he felt the pinpoints of the claws where they pinched his hand.