SNAFU: Wolves at the Door

“I already have your name and number. I’ll call you sometime soon. Once we’re ready for you. Don’t be stupid. Don’t try to find us before it’s time. I crossed over five hundred miles of this country to get to you, to track you down. Don’t think I won’t do it again.”

The stranger turned and moved toward the open front door with the grace of a gymnast, and headed back into the storm.

Moments later the house was silent except for the movie that was playing in the living room and the sound of the wind howling out its cold dismay.

For a time, Mark Loman joined in its song.

* * *

Scott Lassiter was in a good mood for the first time in weeks, right before the phone rang. The business deal he’d been trying to work out finally went through, his commission on the sale of all the equipment needed for a national chain of discount warehouse stores was now a reality instead of a pipe dream, and his commission was enough to add two zeroes to his yearly income.

So he was just as happy as he could be when he reached over, grabbed his cell from its holder and answered the phone.

His joy lasted exactly seven seconds.

“Hello?”

“Scott!?!” He recognized Allison’s voice instantly. His wife of two years and the girl he’d dreamed of being with for as long as he could remember. Her voice was ripe with fear and his heart almost froze inside his chest.

The road around him was spilling over with cars all heading away from Atlanta’s busy traffic flow and toward the suburbs to the north. He turned on his flashers and pulled to the side of the road, moving on autopilot. He’d always been a very cautious man.

“Allison? What’s wrong, honey? Is it the baby?”

Her pregnancy had been touch and go from the very beginning, and much as they both wanted children, the little one growing inside of her seemed almost determined not to survive.

“Scott! Scott!”

He gripped the phone so hard he thought for sure he was going to shatter it, but he couldn’t make himself stop. “Allison! Listen to me, honey, calm down and tell me what’s going on.”

The voice on the other end of the phone was sedate and cold. “Hello, Scott. This is a kidnapping call. Listen very carefully if you ever want to see your wife again.”

“What?” His pulse slammed into overdrive and he looked around as if he might, somehow, see the man speaking to him past the traffic and the fourteen miles he still had to travel in order to get back to his house.

“You don’t have time for questions. You don’t have time for anything. Pay careful attention. Your wife is in my custody. If you attempt to call the police or interfere, I’ll kill her. Wait for a phone call. I’ll use your cell phone number. Oh, and make absolutely sure you act like everything is just fine. You have a little boy on the way and the only way he’s going to make it is if you do as I say.”

The click of the phone on the other end terminating the call was loud and made him flinch.

Scott stared off into the distance, seeing nothing as the heavy traffic moved past him.

“Allison?” He spoke only to himself, knowing full well she couldn’t possibly answer him.

* * *

George Heatherly walked into his house at the usual time, his car keys bouncing in his hand. Coming home meant a lot more to him these days than it had in the past. These days he had company waiting for him when he stepped through the door and dinner either waiting, or almost prepared. Cheryl was good to him like that.

He’d never expected to find anyone who could fill the void left in his world when Amy passed away, but after years of being alone, Cheryl was there to make him feel complete again.

If it wasn’t actually love, it was a damned fine substitute.

He ran across Cheryl when he was waiting at the doctor’s office for his yearly check up. The red head was waiting too, and despite the fact the place looked deserted except for the two of them, there didn’t seem to be anyone who was in a hurry to see them.

She was the one who started the conversation, displaying a razor sharp wit and damned fine looks to boot. Somehow, six months later, she moved into his house and sort of took over. Most of the time he was too dazed to question it, and even when he did decide to sit down and assess the situation, he fully acknowledged that he was better with her in his world than without her. Also, the sex was amazing and her cooking beat all hell out of another take-out pizza.

All of that and more flashed through his mind as he moved inside and carefully took off his coat, placing it in the small closet just inside. That was one of the rules he’d gladly accepted when she took over: coats were to be put away immediately and shoes were to follow them into the closet.

He put away the coat and slid his shoes where they belonged and then moved into his house.

And stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the devastation. The black leather couch had been thrown across the room and shattered the TV set. The long sheet of glass from the coffee table was now scattered across the plush carpet, a sea of shimmering reflections.