Drained (4 page)

I walked in the front door of our red-brick Arlington townhouse. Karen and I had been a little sticker shocked by the cost of property in the area, so we were opting to rent prior to purchasing. I wasn’t the biggest fan of someone living attached to us, but I told myself it was temporary.

“Porkchop!” I called.

I heard thumping puppy feet and the scratching of bulldog nails on the wood floors of the second story. I heard his usual controlled fall down the steps. He turned the corner where the stairwell met the hallway before me. He slid, brindled butt first, into the wall as he turned the corner. His paws swiped off of the hardwood as he tried to gain traction running toward me down the hall. I knelt for my welcome-home greeting. He ran full out toward me, locked up the brakes a few feet short, and slid to a perfect stop in front of me. He licked and slobbered and barked as he received his petting. Then I stood and headed into the townhouse. Porkchop walked directly at my knee. “Come on. Outside,” I said.

I opened the sliding glass door at the back of the house and let him out into the fenced-in backyard, leaving the door cracked open. I knew he would return when he finished doing his business. I tossed my car keys and phone onto the kitchen table, and I caught the time, a bit after six thirty. Karen would be home any minute.

Porkchop reappeared from outside and came to my feet.

I reached down and gave him a scratch behind his ears. He stared back.

“Were you a good boy today?” I asked. “Let’s go find out before your mother gets home.”

I did a quick lap around the lower level while Porkchop followed. I didn’t see any puddles on the wood or anything chewed on. None of the boxes stacked in the corners looked disturbed.

“Halfway there, dog,” I said.

I headed upstairs to give the second story a once-over. Porkchop raced me up the steps and won. I looked over the master bedroom, office, and spare bedroom—again, dog-trouble free.

I stopped in the hall after checking the main upstairs bathroom and looked down at Porkchop. “Well, holy shit. You made it through the day without doing anything naughty. I’m impressed.”

He looked at me and cocked his head to one side.

“Okay, come on, let’s go get you some dinner with a few treats sprinkled on top.”

He didn’t respond.

“It’s dinner time.”

Porkchop spun in a circle around my legs. He knew the words “dinner time.” He liked dinner time.

“Do you want some treats?” I asked.

He about went back-over-front, tearing down the stairwell toward the kitchen.

I headed for the steps, went back downstairs, and fed the dog. The food was vanishing before my eyes in a few seconds.

“Chew,” I said.

He didn’t.

The sound of the front door opening and closing caught my ear and the dog’s. I left the kitchen and turned into the hall. Porkchop was already at my wife’s feet.

Karen knelt and scratched him behind the ears. “Hey, buddy,” she said. Karen looked up at me. “How did he do today?”

“I didn’t find anything anywhere,” I said.

“Good job, Little Chop.” Karen continued petting the dog.

“How was the drive today?” I asked. “I heard the traffic guy on the radio on my way home. It sounded bad.”

Karen stood. She wore a gray blazer over a lighter-gray shirt and matching slacks. A multicolored necklace hung from her neck. She kicked off her shoes at the door. “The traffic was brutal,” she said. “It took me damn near an hour to get ten miles.” Karen freed her black hair from a bun. It fell a few inches past her shoulders.

I walked over and gave her a hug and a kiss. She was holding a brown bag of groceries in her arm, so I took it from her. “What did you get?” I asked.

“Organic chicken and spinach plus a few other things. Basically, everything to make chicken Florentine.”

“I thought we were done with the organic kick?” I asked.

“Nope. I found a nice little market.”

I nodded but said nothing.

“I figured after dinner we could go out and see the town a bit. Maybe do a little dancing,” Karen said. It sounded more like
this is what we are doing
as opposed to
I would like your input on the topic
.

Karen enjoyed control, which after almost twenty years of marriage, I’d gotten accustomed to. She seemed to honestly like being in charge of the little things, from food to vehicles to entertainment. The big things in life we always discussed. The truth was while I’d often get crap about my wife wearing the pants, not having to worry about the little things made my life a lot less stressful, and as much as I could take or leave dancing the night away, it made her happy, which made me happy. Karen could still get a little carried away at times, but as far as our marriage went, I don’t think we could be a better pairing.

“Um, about going out,” I said, “shouldn’t we probably deal with the boxes and start getting things organized instead?”

“It can wait,” Karen said.

I shrugged and headed for the kitchen. As I set down the groceries on the counter next to the sink, I said, “Kane called me this morning.”

“Oh yeah? Just to talk or what?”

“Seemed like it. I’ll call him back a little later. I have to think he’s bored just sitting behind a desk.”

“Ah, he knew the job he was taking. How is Callie doing?” Karen asked. “She has to be due any day now.”

“We only talked for a minute. I had to get off the phone. The navigation in the car was acting weird again.”

“I’ll make an appointment at the dealer,” Karen said.

“Or I could just get a different car,” I said. “I’m kind of sick of the Pinkmobile.”

“It was thousands off because of the color. It was a smart buying decision,” Karen said. “But fine, if you want something else, get something else. I was thinking of relinquishing the vehicle-buying decisions to you anyway.”

“Really?” I asked. Karen had picked out my last four or five cars. They had all been awful.

“Yeah. Cars are now going to be your department. I kind of think they should be. Don’t you?”

“Hell yeah. I’m getting something cool, then. Enough of this slow hybrid crap,” I said.

She smiled. “Just settle down. I’m still going to retain veto ability.”

“Damn,” I said. “Oh, I got made fun of for looking like a stereotypical FBI agent today.”

“By who?”

“Coworker. Maybe along with the vehicles rights, I could get clothing rights as well?” I asked.

“Hank, I’ve seen how you look when you dress yourself. That is still one-hundred-percent my department.”

“Fine. You seemed like you were being generous, so I had to throw it out there.”

Karen smiled and walked to me. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I dropped my hands and held her by her waist.

“So,” she said. “Don’t leave me in suspense. How was your first day? Aside from being made fun of for looking the part.”

“We talked on the phone like four times,” I said.

She ran her hand along the side of my head, staring at me with her dark eyes. “I don’t care. Tell me again,” she said.

“You first.”

“Same old same. Make sure everyone is doing their job. Find traffickers, take down traffickers. Okay, now you.”

“It was fine. I met the team and got acclimated. Learned some things.” I paused. “They gave me my first assignment.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “They put you on something already? You didn’t mention that part.”

“Yeah, I was waiting to tell you until I was home. I’m going to need to pack tonight. I leave in the morning for Chicago.”

Karen snapped her head back. “You’re shitting me, right? They are sending you out on something after being there a day. For how long?”

I shrugged. “They didn’t mention that part.”

“Hank. Look at this place. We’re not even settled in, and you have to leave?”

“It’s the job, I guess,” I said.

She let out a hard breath and dropped her hands from my neck. She walked toward the stairs to head up to the bedroom and spoke over her shoulder. “Okay, well, we’re definitely going out, then. I’ll help you pack when we get home.”

I followed her. “Sure,” I said. “Sorry that I have to leave.”

“No. I know. It just seems a little rushed to me.” Karen reached the top of the stairs and turned left into the master bedroom. She headed to the closet door and pulled it open before unbuttoning her blazer and grabbing a hangar.

I stood in the bedroom doorway and leaned against the sill. “Trial by fire, or so that’s what Ball said. May as well see how I do right out of the gates.”

Karen hung her jacket and began looking through her dresses for what I assumed was something to wear out on the town.

“Little black one,” I said.

“You think?” she asked, looking over at me.

I nodded.

She pulled the little black one from the hangar and held it up before her. “So are they sending you with someone or the whole team or what?”

“Me and another agent.”

She brushed over the front of the dress with the back of her hand. “What’s he like? Do you think you’ll work well together?”

“Um.” I scratched the back of my head. Karen could be a little emotional on certain topics as of late. I figured being sent out of town with another woman could be one of those topics. We were trying to have a child, and she was taking some things to help us with that, one problem being the emotional side effects of the fertility aids the doctor prescribed. I gave her the truth and braced myself. “It’s actually a she.”

Her head snapped around, and her eyes locked on me. “A she?”

“Yeah.”

Karen looked away. “What’s her name?”

“Agent Harper.” I hoped a title and surname would end the conversation—it didn’t.

“What’s she like?” Karen asked.

“Seemed professional.”

“Oh,” Karen said. “Married?”

“Don’t know.”

She looked over at me and cocked her head to one side. That was a common pose when she wasn’t buying what I was selling.

“You didn’t look for a ring?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Looking for rings on women’s fingers isn’t really something I do.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Well, what does she look like?”

I let out a breath. She wasn’t going to quit with her interrogation.

“Is that going to matter for catching a potential serial killer?” I asked.

“I’m just asking.”

“I don’t know, Karen. Why does it matter?”

“So she’s good looking.” Karen hung the dress back on the rack.

I rolled my eyes and cracked my neck from side to side. I pulled myself from the doorway and walked over to her. She gave me her back and acted as though she was looking for another dress. I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her on the side of the neck. “Do you really think there’s a reason for you to be worrying about this?” I asked.

“No,” she said.

She turned toward me.

I pulled her in close. “You’re the only one for me. Emotional craziness and all.”

“Don’t make fun of me, Hank. I can’t really help it right now.”

“I’m not making fun of you. I’m serious. No one else. Ever.”

“Promise?” she asked.

“Promise.”

“Even if we never have kids?”

“Yup.”

She wrapped her arms around me. “Even if I lose a leg?”

I nodded. “I’m not sure why you would, but sure. Your new nickname can be Peggy.”

Karen swatted my back with her hand.

“Or Eileen?” I said

Karen pressed her head against my chest and tightened her grip on me—she stayed that way for a minute or so. Then she pulled back. “Okay. Jealous emotions passed. I’m going to go start dinner.”

I kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll give you a hand.”

Brett had parked Becca’s car in line with the others in his outbuilding. The large red shed stood an acre away from the house. He found a dusty old cover to place over it and stacked boxes around and on top of it, just like the vehicle next to it and the vehicle next to that one. To the casual observer, not that there would be anyone stopping over, the cars appeared to have been there for years—some had been. With her vehicle parked inside, he was now officially out of space. He’d need to dispose of the vehicles eventually. Brett had been considering burying them on his land.

As he neared Englewood, a southern suburb of Chicago, the time on his Jeep’s radio read a few minutes past three o’clock in the morning. Forty miles from home, he clicked on his directional and exited the freeway. Brett drove up and down several blocks, taking in his surroundings. Boarded up homes and businesses lined the streets. He’d heard the reports and seen the articles about deterioration and abundant crime but had never actually stepped foot in that area of town. Brett stopped for a traffic signal. The four-way intersection featured a liquor store with metal barred windows directly across from him. Sitting out front were a group of five or six men. To his right was a small gas station and service shop. A sign out front offered used tires for sale. The light turned green.

Brett cranked the wheel to the left and made his way down the street, watching the random people walking the sidewalks and gathering on porches. He needed a place more remote. He continued up the street for another mile and stopped for another red light. Out his windshield on the left corner of the intersection was an older, rough-looking discount grocery store. Brett looked left to right through the windshield and checked his rearview and side mirrors, spotting no one. The area looked quiet.

Brett turned left when the light turned green and made a right into the back portion of the parking lot. He kept his eyes focused on the top of the building and single light pole but saw no cameras. A moment later, he realized it wouldn’t matter as he spotted an Out of Business sign taped to the side doors. Brett weaved through the small parking lot and crept down the alley behind the grocery store. A ten-foot-high wooden fence followed him on the left side of his vehicle, the building on his right. Brett spotted a row of Dumpsters near the back of the alleyway.

He smiled. Brett killed his headlights and pulled the truck all the way to the back of the grocery store. He shut down the motor next to the Dumpsters, took a pair of gloves from the passenger seat, and stepped out. Brett gloved his hands and walked to the closest Dumpster. He flipped the lid up, walked to the back gate of the Jeep, and opened it. Before him was Becca’s body, reclothed and wrapped in plastic. Her sunglasses covered her eyes. He folded away the piece of plastic covering her and placed his right hand under her knees and his left under her shoulders. After lifting her from the back of the Jeep, he walked her to the Dumpster and heaved her inside. Her body hit the Dumpster’s garbage-covered bottom with a thump. Brett flipped the lid closed and got back in the truck.