pointing to the screen in front of him. “Look right here. Tomorrow, a storm will come. I need my men to be ready. If they don’t sleep now, they won’t be ready.”
Stinky glared at him, unused to being interrupted. Captain Sewell returned the stare, then added, “You can do what you want with your men. Mine are going to get some rest.” He signaled for Jaime and Rojas to head below decks. The Captain instructed Miguel to stay topside to help. They would rotate in four hours, he said.
Stinky huffed again and signaled Mr. Green to accompany them down the steps.
That’s when Stinky’s phone rang, a muffled and unfamiliar melody. He fumbled as he dug it out of his hip pocket. As he put the phone to his ear, a frown contorted his mouth.
Captain Sewell stood at the wheel, listening but not understanding the words Stinky uttered except when he said, “OK.”
* * * *
Collin had been sleeping off and on for the past several hours. There had been no new attacks and the pain was starting to subside everywhere except his head. It pounded and throbbed. His mouth and throat were so dry it made him cough and choke. He realized that he must be dehydrated, but he dared not ask for anything, fearing another assault, so he lay still and listened to the rustling of the three men who had just entered the room.
Rojas and Jaime conversed softly in Spanish. At first, they seemed to be testing the waters to see if either of the two gunmen in their company would tell them to stop. “Where’s my pillow?” “Do you want a blanket?” “I need my toothbrush.” Their words were spoken more clearly than usual. Their tone was still familiar and casual, but the conversation lacked the normal amount of slang incomprehensible to Collin, who spoke fluent Spanish but could rarely follow the exchanges between these two. It was a running joke.
When the guards said nothing to halt their chatter, they continued, still speaking softly and in the same tone. Rojas said, “Did you hear about Abigail’s little sister?”
Jaime replied, “Abigail has a sister?”
“Yeah, she’s coming to visit tomorrow.”
“Really? What’re you going to do?”
“Introduce her to our guests. Maybe she can take them out.”
“I hope she does.”
Both men grumbled and snorted, a sinister chortle shared between them. That’s when Mr. Green stepped closer, gun in hand, and ordered them to stop talking.
Collin replayed the short conversation in his head, interpreting the code. He tried to suppress a smile. Abigail, the hurricane that nearly killed him over a week ago, had a little sister who was coming tomorrow. Jaime caught Collin’s eye and gave Rojas a shove with his elbow.
* * * *
Huntington Beach, California
June 14, 9:53 p.m. Pacific Time
With the push of a button mounted on the overhead console, the Cooks’ garage door began to open as the dark blue Cadillac approached the end of the cul-de-sac. The handsome two-story, Mediterranean-style home was mostly dark, save a few lights, which were controlled by timers, glowing in the front windows and in the bonus room above the garage. The decorative landscape lighting illuminated the willows and the Japanese maple in the front yard. The garage door was fully opened by the time the Cadillac reached the driveway. Henry inched the car carefully forward until the dangling tennis ball touched the windshield. He smiled at Sarah as she roused from slumber.
“Oh, are we home already?” Sarah said as she checked her surroundings.
“Already? You must have been in a deep sleep, my dear. Traffic was horrendous coming into Orange County.”
“I’m sorry, Henry. I should have stayed awake to keep you company.”
“No, no. I’m fine. Did you enjoy your nap?”
“I just can’t seem to keep my eyes open. I’m sorry to be so
Stinky glared at him, unused to being interrupted. Captain Sewell returned the stare, then added, “You can do what you want with your men. Mine are going to get some rest.” He signaled for Jaime and Rojas to head below decks. The Captain instructed Miguel to stay topside to help. They would rotate in four hours, he said.
Stinky huffed again and signaled Mr. Green to accompany them down the steps.
That’s when Stinky’s phone rang, a muffled and unfamiliar melody. He fumbled as he dug it out of his hip pocket. As he put the phone to his ear, a frown contorted his mouth.
Captain Sewell stood at the wheel, listening but not understanding the words Stinky uttered except when he said, “OK.”
* * * *
Collin had been sleeping off and on for the past several hours. There had been no new attacks and the pain was starting to subside everywhere except his head. It pounded and throbbed. His mouth and throat were so dry it made him cough and choke. He realized that he must be dehydrated, but he dared not ask for anything, fearing another assault, so he lay still and listened to the rustling of the three men who had just entered the room.
Rojas and Jaime conversed softly in Spanish. At first, they seemed to be testing the waters to see if either of the two gunmen in their company would tell them to stop. “Where’s my pillow?” “Do you want a blanket?” “I need my toothbrush.” Their words were spoken more clearly than usual. Their tone was still familiar and casual, but the conversation lacked the normal amount of slang incomprehensible to Collin, who spoke fluent Spanish but could rarely follow the exchanges between these two. It was a running joke.
When the guards said nothing to halt their chatter, they continued, still speaking softly and in the same tone. Rojas said, “Did you hear about Abigail’s little sister?”
Jaime replied, “Abigail has a sister?”
“Yeah, she’s coming to visit tomorrow.”
“Really? What’re you going to do?”
“Introduce her to our guests. Maybe she can take them out.”
“I hope she does.”
Both men grumbled and snorted, a sinister chortle shared between them. That’s when Mr. Green stepped closer, gun in hand, and ordered them to stop talking.
Collin replayed the short conversation in his head, interpreting the code. He tried to suppress a smile. Abigail, the hurricane that nearly killed him over a week ago, had a little sister who was coming tomorrow. Jaime caught Collin’s eye and gave Rojas a shove with his elbow.
* * * *
Huntington Beach, California
June 14, 9:53 p.m. Pacific Time
With the push of a button mounted on the overhead console, the Cooks’ garage door began to open as the dark blue Cadillac approached the end of the cul-de-sac. The handsome two-story, Mediterranean-style home was mostly dark, save a few lights, which were controlled by timers, glowing in the front windows and in the bonus room above the garage. The decorative landscape lighting illuminated the willows and the Japanese maple in the front yard. The garage door was fully opened by the time the Cadillac reached the driveway. Henry inched the car carefully forward until the dangling tennis ball touched the windshield. He smiled at Sarah as she roused from slumber.
“Oh, are we home already?” Sarah said as she checked her surroundings.
“Already? You must have been in a deep sleep, my dear. Traffic was horrendous coming into Orange County.”
“I’m sorry, Henry. I should have stayed awake to keep you company.”
“No, no. I’m fine. Did you enjoy your nap?”
“I just can’t seem to keep my eyes open. I’m sorry to be so
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