Shadows Reel (Joe Pickett #22)(29)

Viktór chose a hay hook they’d found in a farm and ranch store. The tool had a triangle-shaped metal handle. At the end of a sixty-six-centimeter, or twenty-six-inch, steel shaft, it curved into a sharpened point. It was used for moving heavy bales. He liked how it felt in his hand and was impressed by the velocity he could generate when he swung it through the air.



* * *



—

They moved tree to tree in the forest parallel to the road until László pointed out a square blue glow through the branches. When they got close enough, they realized that the glow came from the window of a home in the woods. László motioned to Viktór to come to him. They both dropped to their haunches behind the thick trunk of a pine tree.

“Stay here while I go take a look,” László said.

Viktór watched his brother move toward the structure in a crouch until he was directly below the glowing window. There were no outside lights. Slowly, László rose up and peered inside for at least thirty seconds.

He then moved across the front of the structure until he was next to the metal door. He reached up and grasped the door handle. Nothing happened. Viktór could tell that the door was locked.

Instead of coming directly back, László crab-walked along the length of the home until he vanished around the corner of it.

Finally, what seemed like seven minutes later, László reappeared on the other side of the house and made his way in a crouch back to Viktór.

“She’s in there,” László whispered. “She had her back to me, but she was there, all right. She’s sitting on a couch watching television. I could see the top of her head.”

“Is she alone?”

“Except for a cat, she’s alone. I looked in every window all the way around. The cat saw me looking in, but it ran away and hid under a bed.”

“I’m glad she doesn’t have a dog.”

Viktór raised up so he could see over László’s shoulder. He frowned.

“It’s not a very nice place,” he said. At home very few people lived in mobile homes. They were used as temporary housing at building sites.

“She’s a librarian. They don’t make a lot of money, I don’t think. I’m pretty sure Americans don’t read very much.”

“Where’s her car?”

“There’s a car around the back.”

“Is it the same van?”

“I think so. It was dark. But I saw something very interesting inside the house next to her on the couch.”

Victór waited.

“That bag she was carrying,” László said. “The one with the library writing on it. I saw the bag.”

Viktór nodded. Then: “So how do we get it? We can’t just knock on the door and ask for it. What if she calls the police?”

László seemed to be thinking. He placed his gloved fist under his chin and stared straight ahead.

“There’s a way in,” he said.



* * *



—

    On his back in the dirt beneath the trailer with a penlight in his teeth, Viktór used a multi-tool to unscrew each of the Phillips head screws of a two-foot-by-two-foot panel near the back of the trailer. He was surprised how easy they came out. Back at home, they would have been rusted into place. Apparently, the lack of moisture in the air kept metal from deteriorating, he guessed. As he worked, flakes of dirt filtered down into his eyes. He’d pushed the balaclava up onto the crown of his head so he could see better and breathe more freely.

As he’d told Viktór, the hatch was indeed too narrow for László’s wide shoulders to fit through. He’d been right about that.

At last, the panel was free. Viktór lowered it down and placed it beside him. But there was a problem: the opening was filled with ancient pink fiberglass insulation. He clawed at it until he could see the underside of a similar square panel above. If it was screwed down from the inside, there would be nothing he could do.

He reached up and put pressure on the square and it shifted. When it did, he could hear the muted sounds of a television blaring in another room. He was grateful that he wasn’t coming up right next to her.

Viktór folded the multi-tool and slipped it back into his pocket. Using both hands, he pushed up on the inside hatch until it was free of its frame. He slid it to the right side until it butted up against something solid.

There wasn’t yet enough room in the opening for him to climb up. So he worked the hatch across the opening the other way. It slid left until he could see the dark ceiling of the room above him and an unlit light fixture. The room smelled like an old person, he thought. Which was odd, because the librarian looked to be much younger when they’d seen her earlier that day.

He tried not to grunt as he grasped both sides of the frame and lifted himself upward into a sitting position. Only his head was inside the room, and he looked around. He was thankful for the glow of a night-light plugged into an outlet near the floorboards.

It was a bathroom. There were towels on racks and a light pink shower curtain. The reason he hadn’t been able to slide the panel to the right was because it was blocked by a toilet.

The door was open into a narrow hallway. The sound of the television came from the end of the house to his left.