Page 56 of The Attercop

A third text appeared briefly, then vanished.

Come for me.

Declan pulled out from the curb, nearly hitting a passing car, and sped toward the address. He knew that soon he would be meeting the person who had been creating all the chaos in his life. But who was it that might die if he didn’t do what he was told? Then a terrible thought hit him.

Charlie!

He went to call Charlie, then paused. What if the person was actually tracking the use of his phone and saw he had tried to call Charlie? Could someone even do that? This was something Charlie would know, but Declan had no clue. His rage burned inside of him. He pounded the steering wheel and drove as fast as he could.

By the time Declan arrived, the sun had long set and the neighbourhood was lit only by streetlamps. He slowly drove past the address he’d been given. It was a raised bungalow, one up from the corner with a tall wooden fence and several pine trees that concealed much of it from the street.

Declan parked a block away. He checked his phone. No further texts.

What would Charlie do?

Declan grabbed his phone, ensuring it was still on, and put it in the glove box. If anything went wrong, he knew someone would be able to track its location.

He took a deep breath, got out of the van and hurried along the roadway to the edge of the property. Most of the neighbouring houses were dark. People had either gone to bed or were hunkered down in their basements watching TV.

Declan entered the side yard through a gate. He closed it most of the way shut, carefully listening for any sign of a dog that might be out in the yard…silence. He latched the gate and crept to the back of the house. There was no sign of any movement. The only light came from a main-floor window overlooking the backyard.

Declan crept to the back door and tried the knob. It was unlocked, as if someone was expecting a guest. He silently made his way in, exploring the main floor. He paused outside each room, then gently opened the doors. The rooms were all vacant, even the one with the light on. Declan’s only remaining option was to check the basement.

He quietly snuck down the stairs. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Some light from the street leaked in through the basement windows and dimly lit the main room. It was carpeted and furnished with a couch, a few chairs and a television set. There were several doors off this room. Declan paused. Which door should he try? It was like the old TV showLet’s Make a Deal. Behind two of the doors there might be nothing of interest, but behind the third door, the grand prize…perhaps something he didn’t want to find. Or worse, perhaps there was something horrible behind all the doors. But which should he choose first—door number one, door number two, or door number three?

A mechanical noise broke the silence and he felt air blowing on him. It was the furnace fan kicking in. He followed the whir of the motor which led him to the door along the wall on his right.

Why not?

He carefully turned the knob, eased the door open, then slid his body into what appeared to be a concrete-floored utility room. A dull night-light plugged into a wall socket cast a dim glow. He scanned the room, but at first glance there was no one there other than him, and no apparent place to hide. Near the far corner stood the furnace. Between it and the concrete block wall he spied a gap. A gap wide enough…

He moved his way to the opening and spotted the silhouette of a body. It was bound and gagged. Declan recognised Jules, whose eyes were wide with terror. She let out muffled sounds of desperation.

* * * *

The Attercop left his hiding spot and crept down the stairs. He had practised this manoeuvre time and time again, fixing every tread that squeaked. Declan would not hear him coming.

At the base of the stairs, he paused and listened. He controlled his breathing and moved slowly toward the only open door. The one to the furnace room.

The Attercop held his weapon in front of him, gripping it with both hands. He knew that the moment the detective found Jules, and was in the right position, the three small LED sensor lights for the furnace would be blocked from The Attercop’s view and that would be his cue to fire.

He watched Declan’s frame move into position. The Attercop pulled the trigger on the Taser. The compressed nitrogen cartridge sent the two darts at fifty-five metres per second toward Hunt’s back. If they missed their target, he wouldn’t have a second chance and Hunt would take him down.

The Attercop gasped with delight as the darts successfully penetrated the detective’s tight T-shirt and delivered a high-voltage charge. Declan toppled like a felled tree, landing face down.

The Attercop worked quickly to truss him up, cuffing his hands behind his back and tying Hunt’s feet together. Then he tied the feet to the hands. He had to work fast. The Taser’s batteries lasted only thirty seconds. Unless he had him under control by then, Declan could get loose.

The Attercop reached into his pocket and pulled out a glass bottle wrapped in a cloth handkerchief. He got the top open, and managed to douse the handkerchief with fluid, but in the excitement of the moment, dropped the bottle. There was the sound of breaking glass and the sweet smell of isoflurane filled the air.

Declan began to thrash madly. “Show me who you are,” he yelled.

The Attercop straddled Hunt’s back. At any other time, he would have enjoyed this, but he would have to save his enjoyment for later. Declan was trying to roll over. If he managed to do that, it would be harder to control his head and knock him out with the isoflurane which, thanks to his own increased respiratory rate, was starting to make him feel a bit dizzy and make his eyes sting.

The Attercop managed to get the cloth over Declan’s face and held it there. “That’s a good boy. It’s time to take a nice long nap.”

Declan’s body grew still and The Attercop smiled. He flicked a switch, which turned on the fluorescent ceiling lights, and assessed the situation. When the bottle had shattered, glass had gone everywhere. It couldn’t be helped. He picked up as many pieces as he could, then mopped up the remaining isofluraneand placed the rags in a plastic bag. Some of those rags might come in handy later.

Next, he searched Declan’s pockets. He found his keys, a wallet and some crumpled papers. Where was the fucking phone? The Attercop might have exaggerated when he’d texted Declan and told him that he could track it, but that didn’t mean that Charlie or the police couldn’t. The fumes from the isoflurane were fogging his brain. He needed to get out of there quickly. The Attercop made a choice. Even if Declan had left his phone where they could locate it, The Attercop would never be coming back to this place again.