Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.
Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.
Lonnie did not turn the pickup lights on. He traveled over the hill in near darkness. He would like to have gone faster but felt being unseen was the best card he could play in the situation.
Patience did not come easily. Luckily the pickup was new, silent, and dark colored. There were a lot of back roads up here, they led in a lot of directions. If it were not for he fact he had a prisoner stashed in a closet in the safe house going over the top of the hill would not have been the most reasonable thing to do.
On the other hand, simply because it would be unreasonable, it would also be unexpected.
Coming at the house, not uphill from the road, but downhill from the hill itself, Lonnie coasted the last two miles. Catching the person in the ninja suit by surprise. They had been listening for an engine, not the small hiss of rolling tires.
“Keep quiet,” said the breathy voice, “or I will shoot you first.”
L C’s heart began to race.
Footsteps could be heard on gravel, up the creaky steps, across the porch. The front door opened. Steps entered. The door was not pushed shut. Steps sounded down the hall, around the wall, and proceeded to the closet. There was fumbling. The closet door opened.
Frantic movements followed. A man’s voice cussed.
“She is behind you.” A breathy voice said.
Lonnie stepped back and spun around quickly trying to find the source of the voice. So Quickly he collided with L C and the chair she was tied to. He tried to grab hold of it to steady himself. Instead he grabbed L C’s face. She pulled it out of his grasp, pulling off the blindfold in the process.
Lonnie, chair, and L C crashed to the floor.
L C did her best to keep her wits about her, to try to understand where she was and what was happening. Lonnie just groaned.
“That is pathetic,” said the breathy voice.
Lonnie struggled to rise up. When he did so the voice continued, “I have a gun. I will use it. Don’t try anything smart or you will die before we have a chance to chat.”
Lonnie began to shake. Starting with his chin and finding a home somewhere in his knees. Wild eyed he searched the darkness for the source of the voice.
“Pick her up.” Lonnie looked around. There was some lighter patches of dark. He searched them.
“In the chair fool. Pick her up.”
Lonnie moved, bumped the chair with his foot. Struggled to set L C upright. Eventually he succeeded.
“Tell me,” ordered the breathy voice, “who you are and why you are here.”
“My, my name. My name is Wilbur Daggit. I’m Cody Daggit’s brother. You people killed my brother.”
There was a pause before the breathy voice continued. “You people? Explain?”
“I know you people are with the CIA. I know you had my brother killed. I know this is a safe house. I followed all of you here. I know. I know.” Lonnie began to sidestep back and forth, one side to the other. “Cody was working for Mr. Penn. A CIA agent who brought Cody here a couple of times.”
Another pause. Then the breathy voice asked directly, “Are you on drugs?”
“Hey, man, I’ve cut way back, dude. Way back. And only the good stuff. Drugs got nothing to do with what I know. I know Cody was setting up spy equipment for you guys, for the CIA, and he learned too much and you killed him.”
“Spy equipment here? In the safe house?”
“Yeah. For the guy who got who got killed here. The newspaper called him something else, but his name he told Cody, was Mr. Penn.”
Whatever the breathy voice from the darkest corner of the room was going to say next was cut short.
Something lunged panting onto the porch. Long toe nails scrapped across the wooden floor of the hallway and rounded the corner.
From out of nowhere the dark, shadowy shape of a german shepherd appeared. It was headed for lonnie, but the person in the ninja suit reacted before it realized that fact. Shot. There was a flash. There was sound as the bullet left the barrel. Another sound as the dog howled in fury and turned toward the person who had wounded it.
Harry had been following the pickup for miles, intent on the driver, Lonnie. The pain, the attack, from the darkest corner of the room came as a complete surprise. However he did not hesitate.
Two shadows formed in front of the window, which was only minimally lighter than the rest of the inside of the cabin. Then they blended to one. There was a growl, a human yelp, some scuffling and cussing, then a human shape went out the window. The animal tried to follow, but was too wounded.
The dog whined and lay breathing heavily. Someone could be heard running though the woods.
Lonnie grabbed the back of the chair L C was tied in and drug her out the front door. It took some effort but he hoisted her into the back of the pickup, her and the chair laying on its side. As he put the gag back in her mouth L C told him, “The dog. Get the dog. You can’t leave it here.”
“Okay, okay,” Lonnie said and did as he was told, laying the dog alongside of her just before he closed the tailgate.
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The Homewrecker Series (tm) 
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