Day One by Bill Cameron Page B

showed lights, like the Bronstein place, but no one was outside. Making coffee, yelling at their damn kids to get outa bed already. Big Ed tucked the larynx into his belt, then crept up onto the porch, quiet as his bulk would allow. The front door was half glass, the foyer beyond dark and empty. He pressed himself against the wall to the right of the door, then gestured to Hiram waiting down on the walk. Hiram went straight to the door and knocked. Put a pleasant look on his sunbaked face, much as possible. Slouched a bit. A moment later, light spilled through the glass pane in the door, then a shadow.
    Hiram cracked an unctuous smile. “Mister Bronstein, sir, sorry to bother you so early.”
    Bronstein didn’t open the door. “Do I know you?” His voice wary.
    “It’s Dave. I just moved in a couple houses up. We met the other day.”
    Big Ed could almost picture Bronstein’s confused expression, but Hiram’s bullshit flowed thick. He heard the door open a crack. “We did?” Big Ed tried to make himself even flatter against the wall.
    Hiram kept smiling. “You were getting out of your car. The Beamer?”
    “If you say so. What can I do for you, Dave? It’s damned early for a social call.”
    Hiram looked back over his shoulder, then down at his feet. “Well, it’s about your car. I’m afraid I ran into it parking, and put a dent in the left front quarter panel.” Big Ed thought of the Accord and had to fight down a chuckle about that little detail. Nice touch, Hiram.
    “What?” Bronstein yanked the door open and took a step onto the porch, his face searching. “When the hell did—”
    Big Ed slid sideways past Hiram and grabbed Bronstein by the throat, one-handed. Mitch’s eyes bulged and he clawed at the meat clamp on his windpipe. Big Ed spun around to face him and Bronstein stumbled. Ed pushed him through the doorway, hand still on his throat.
    “Who is it, honey?” The girl, calling from another room. He could hear a note of Givern Valley in her voice. “It’s awfully early for someone to be knocking on the door.” Bronstein tried to speak, but Big Ed’s grip was too strong. “Jase, sweetie, go see who it is.”
    “I’m eating.” The older kid. The one Myra mentioned.
    “Come on, Jase. Help me out here. I still need to get Danny up.”
    Big Ed walked Bronstein backward and cracked his head hard against the wooden trim around the front closet door. Bronstein crumpled, but continued to struggle. Big Ed cracked his head again then pushed him down onto his ass, head slumped against his shoulder. Dazed, but conscious. He pressed his face into Bronstein’s and stuck the larynx against his own throat. Spoke in as much ofa whisper as the device would allow. “Be quiet and you and your family might live through this.”
    An idle threat, but Bronstein didn’t know that. His hands went to his throat. “What ... you ... what do you ...” A coffee-laced gasp.
    “We are here for the boy.”
    Bronstein’s eyes rolled. Big Ed stood, looked to either side, assessing. Fingers curled around the black cylinder of the larynx. The living room at his left opened onto the dining room. To his right, a hallway led past the stairs into the back. Both routes must connect to the kitchen. He heard a sound, the scrape of a chair across the floor. A muttered curse, then footsteps. A door opened, flooded the hallway with light. The door swung shut again as the tall, overweight kid appeared in the hallway next to the stairs. It seemed to take him a moment to realize what he was looking at. “Whoa, jeezus—!” Big Ed caught his eye as he turned, tried to flee. One quick step, then his arm locked around the kid’s neck. He yanked the kid backwards off his feet, slammed him into the floor. He kneeled down on the boy’s chest, looked him in the eye. The terror on the kid’s face was clear as reading a newspaper headline.
    Jase, the woman had called him.
    Hiram Spaneker stepped in through the open front door.