Okay, one thing Carlton Lassiter was very proud of when it came to stakeouts was that he had the vitality of a moose. He knew, hands down, he could out stake anybody in the department. He was very fond of regaling listeners, willing or otherwise, about the time he stayed up for thirty-seven hours, alone, in order to nail the owner of a very profitable credit card fraud operation fronting as a less than successful nightclub on the verge of bankruptcy.
Red-eyed and scruffy, he’d still managed to take down the man in charge with some choice words and a linebacker tackle to the ground. Hearing his cuffs snick shut on wrists had never sounded sweeter.
Of course, this was pre-O’Hara and post-Lucinda.
Which might have had something to do with the Chief so readily accepting an outside transfer.
And dammit- weren’t partners supposed to help keep undercover operations from becoming a snooze fest??
Yes, granted, it was eye blinding dark, and the monotonous sound of a moving vehicle was somewhat soothing…
“O’Hara!”
Instant crash led him to assume she’d not only suddenly lurched to life- but impacted something solid in the process.
“Ouch- Carlton!”
Now really, was that his fault? Yeah, didn’t think so.
A minor bit of thrashing and the sound of breaking glass. And then a very crass expletive that raised the appreciation of his partner several levels. And then, proving her deductive skills weren’t just in name only, she voiced an abrupt observation.
“We’ve stopped moving.”
He snapped on his flashlight at that moment- pure luck sending the beam directly into O’Hara’s eyes.
“Ahh! Bright much?!”
“Oh, sorry.” He quickly trained the light to the side, though close enough to still make out the disheveled woman.
“You couldn’t have turned that on while I was fighting for my life a few seconds ago?”
Carlton shrugged, manfully ignoring the rabid glare burning his way.
“I’m trying to conserve the batteries.”
Turning away from her continued stare, he grasped a box in one hand as he too shoved himself upright- though much more easily than his partner considering he could see what he was doing.
Then, stepping carefully, he made for the back of the truck- pressing his ear against the side. Juliet followed, standing just behind him.
After a moment, he leaned back. At his left, Juliet breathed lightly- her hands braced against the door.
“Are they gone?” Delicately whispered, she too pressed her ear close.
Carlton shook his head as he examined the rest of the exit. “I can’t tell for certain, but I think so. I can’t hear voices at any rate.” Pointing his light beam down at his watch, he nodded to himself. “It’s after seven. Most likely they’re gone by now if they’re following through with previous procedure. Every other time I’ve watched them, they’d left the warehouse by six pm.”
Juliet shifted, her bare feet hardly making a sound on the plank floor. Obviously she’d shucked her heels at some point.
“How far away is this warehouse anyhow? I mean, assuming that’s where we are.”
Kneeling, Lassiter lifted back the edge of the rubber tarp, grasping for the handle on this side of the door, and tugged. Though it turned in his hand, the door didn’t budge. Damn.
“Must have a padlock or something on the other side.” He murmured softly. He scratched at the back of his head. “It’s about an hour and forty minutes drive from my place, two if there’s heavy traffic.”
The young woman folded her arms. “Carlton, how many times did you follow these people?”
Back stiff, he braced his hand against the door as he stood.
“Once every evening for about two weeks. Except for that Thursday when we busted the Gregory brothers, and also last Saturday because it was my mother’s birthday.”
His partner didn’t respond, though she was looking at him oddly again. He studied her back for a moment, then rolled his eyes.
“We need to get out of here.”
Stepping away from the door, he unsheathed his weapon and drew a bead on the latch.
O’Hara immediately grabbed his arm. “Are you nuts! Carlton, that’s two inch thick steel- all you’re going to do is ricochet the bullet back inside the trailer!”
His look was condescendingly patient.
“You’ve been watching Mythbusters again?” He actually smiled, though he refrained from patting her hand. He liked his fingers attached thank you very much. “O’Hara, I saw that episode too. They were shooting at padlocks from a distance of one foot away. This is clearly a different situation. I’ll be shooting at a downward angle from a distance of five feet. And also I’ll be behind this pallet.”
He quickly slid behind the stack of boxes. And no- it had nothing to do with her warning.
His partner, realizing she wouldn’t be successful in preventing their escape, darted to the front of the trailer and squeezed behind a cluster of towers.
Wishing for a pair of earplugs, setting the flashlight on a box and angling the beam towards his target, Lassiter lined up his weapon, steadied his arms, and fired.
Explosive sound- flash blinding in brightness- gunpowder and heat and something burning across the back of his hand. Grunting, he jerked back and nearly lost his hold on the weapon while behind him O’Hara shouted loudly.
And then it was quiet again.
“O’Hara!”
A cough, followed by a rustle. “I’m fine… did it work?
He sheathed his gun, flinching at the pain on his hand while slipping back out from behind his cover. Grabbing the flashlight as he walked, he knelt down and shined the beam on the latch.
Dead center, a nice little crescent of dented metal where, surprise, surprise, the bullet had skipped off the rounded surface and hared around the interior of the trailer before coming to rest… somewhere. Not without trying to take a chunk of him with it though- given the stinging scratch just beneath his knuckles.
“Is this where I’m required to say I told you so?”
He didn’t look up, though he did tug his shirt sleeve over the minor scrape.
“I really wish you wouldn’t.”
And standing once more, he walked back to his original resting place, sat down, and flicked off the light.
_)()(_
Road dust coated a good portion of his lower legs by the time Shawn dragged through the front door of the cabin- only to find Gus shoving the last of his belongings back into his suitcase.
“Gus! Dude, what are you doing? Come on- this isn’t about the case is it?”
Ignoring in a way that was making it patently clear that he was ignoring, Gus crammed a final balled up wad of five sock pairs- a Shawn Spencer packing specialty- into the too tight confines and wrestled the case closed.
Forced to follow his seethingly silent friend back towards the door- inelegantly tripping over one of his kicked off shoes in the process- palms catching him just short of biting floorboard, Shawn scurried to keep pace as Gus banged out into the encroaching twilight.
“Come on… it’ll only take a few hours tops!”
Nearly the moment he was free of the cabin, anorexic mosquitoes descended on him from all sides- miniature vampires determining with sheer numbers to either bleed him dry, carry him off for an early evening buffet, or both. Adamantly trying to avoid a fate as proboscis punctured snackable, Shawn slapped furiously while noting with some amount of envious animosity that Gus had yet to draw a single humming tormentor. And, going all twelve steps with his friend ignoring, Gus proceeded to load his cargo into the small blue car parked in a homeward bound configuration.
“He said- ow- he said he’d pay us five grand just to keep the rest of his herd safe!”
That made Gus stop, one hand still in mid-lift on the trunk while the other clutched the handle of his luggage.
“Have you been stealing from my sample case? You honestly think you can get me to babysit a bunch of farm animals? You must be out of your mind.” Familiar accusation rendered, the man loaded his suitcase and clicked the trunk down firmly. “Unless you want to hitchhike back home on a tractor, I suggest to get your things in the next five seconds.”
A challenge then. Shawn could work with that. Charging to the driver’s side door- he quickly slammed it shut just as Gus started to pull it open.
“There’s an extra five grand if we can catch the lake monster!”
Gus tugged at the handle, but Shawn pushed back even harder- digging in his heels and flattening his palms against the smooth metal.
“Get off the door Shawn!”
Now pushing at his friend, the other man dug in his heels too- hands gripping into cotton while the shoving match began in earnest.
“Admit it! You’re a scardy cat! You think the lake monster’s gonna eat you!” Losing a little ground when his foot slipped, Shawn redoubled his efforts- noting that even through their battle, mosquitoes continued to land on his exposed flesh. By tomorrow he was going to look like a small pox outpatient.
“I’m not a scardy cat Shawn!” This was followed by a free-throw earning kick to the shin.
“Cheater!! I call foul!!”
Apparently giving up on words, Gus simply shoved harder, the scuffle kicking up dust and digging numerous small stones into the sock-shrouded pads of Shawn’s feet.
“No fair! I’m barefoot- you have too much advantage!”
Grunting, Gus abruptly dropped his arms. “You aren’t barefoot Shawn- you’ve got knee-highs on!”
Affronted, the other man looked down at his legs. “Dude, you make it sound like I’m wearing pantyhose! These are cotton and wool blend sports socks! Notice the distinct sporty stripes?” Tugging up his jean leg, he displayed the blue marked fabric enclosing his hairy calf.
Turning away with an eyeroll, Gus proceeded to walk around to the passenger’s side of the car- hands going to his pockets. And then he frowned deeper, digging through his jacket, and then back to his slacks again before lifting his angry stare to his friend.
“Shawn! You swiped my keys again!” He tugged at the handle to no affect. “AND you locked the car!!”
Shawn spread out his arms. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spoken lightly, no real attempt at seriousness as the keyring was hooked around his thumb and in clear sight. However, at the clearly fuming expression on his friend’s face, he dropped his arms again.
“Gus, come on…”
Titching his lips, the other man turning his glare to the side- unwilling now to look at the taunting fool on the opposite side of the car. Tempting his buddy, Shawn jingled the keys lightly- holding them above his head. “Two days Gus. I promise you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” The eyes flicked his way, a dark brow rising incrementally. “Or scary…” Now the man was facing him head-on, chin tilted back with both eyebrows lifting towards his faded hairline. Shawn groaned. “Fine! And nothing smelly either!”
“Fine.” Replied Gus, walking back around to snatch the keys away before unlocking the car once again.
Shawn continued hovering though until Gus walked to the rear of the vehicle and popped open the trunk, dragging free with suitcase before closing the compartment again. Brushing past him on the way towards the cabin, his lifetime buddy, his compadre, the Barf to his Lone Starr, pivoted with one hand still clutching the screen door.
“By the way, you didn’t pack me any underwear.”
Shawn squinched his eyes in disgust. “Dude, cardinal rule- guys don’t handle other guy’s fruit of the looms!” Then he tipped back his head with a smile. “Besides, chicks dig the commando look.”
A steady stare, and then the screen swung shut on Gus’s form- the main door smacking tight with a click immediately afterward.
“So what, you’re just leaving me out here??”
His hand slapped the tiny creature skewering the side of his neck.
“That’s not cool dude!!”
_)()(_
For the past several minutes, the sounds of crunching and smacking were the only conversation between the two detectives.
Light only in use when a new item was being filched from the paper bag- the meal was primarily spent in complete dark like a high-end novelty restaurant. Not that she ever understood the purpose beforehand- Juliet certainly had lost any desire for blackout conditions brunching after the third time inadvertently biting her fingertip when expecting Pringles.
They were well enough stocked for rations for at least a little while- her lunchtime provisions also including a few home essentials in the way of Snickers minis and a bag of avocados- something Lassiter wouldn’t touch even if there was a ten foot pole nearby to prod their reptilian green skins. Her chocolate stash, however, would sustain Snacky McSweet-Tooth for at least another twenty minutes.
All this eating and drinking, however, had side effects. Much more troublesome then keeping them well fed while in confinement, it was only a matter of time before the result of their meal would make its demands on their bodies. Not yet willing to contemplate how, exactly, that issue would be dealt with, Juliet popped another chip in her mouth and sagged a bit more against her chosen box.
Lounging against his own cardboard recliner, Carlton could be heard chowing what sounded like a pickle- the sudden sharp scent of dill confirming that quickly.
“You willing to share?”
A grunt- not quite what she was hoping to hear, followed by a mulish response. “You got anything to bargain with?”
Oh, so that’s how it is. “Excuse me, who was it that brought snacks to the overnight? Quit hoarding you glutton!” A tossed chip made landfall somewhere midway between them- the delicate skitter of the baked spud shaving punctuating her retort.
A dark chuckle was the only sound to follow- somehow more evil emerging from the blackness. Moments later there was another purposeful crunch.
Considering the bastard was also holding the only light source hostage, retaliation could prove to be extremely interesting. Of course, chucked ugly glass amphibians in the direction of his voice were bound to hit the mark with fairly acceptable frequency- not like this trailer was all that enormous. Although, she’d also have to factor in numerous hiding places as well as the likelihood of a defensive strike.
All in all, bargaining might be the better way to go.
“You want another soda before tomorrow I suggest you give up the Vlasic.”
This time the emerging voice held a somewhat more petulant tinge in its mumbled utterance. “Not like I don’t already have to pee a gallon…” Light smacked her eyes- how does he always manage to get me dead on??- as Carlton heaved himself to his feet and carried the container of pickled vegetable to her eager hands.
While in her vicinity, he also snatched another acid green can of carbonation before returning once more to his resting place. Light snapping off as he settled, she heard the pop of his can followed by heavy swallows.
Munching the tart treat, Juliet wished, again, that her timepiece came with an LCD panel- her sanity and time sense depending on Mr. Protective-of-all-battery-powered-appliances to deal out the small bursts of sunshine.
“How long has it been?”
Not the flick of the flashlight this time but the somber glow from his wrist. Of course- Carlton did have an LCD.
“Ten eighteen. Which makes it eighteen minutes since you last asked me.”
O’Hara slapped the cover back on the pickle jar, screwing it in place furiously. “Well if you’d quit being a butt and let me use your watch I wouldn’t have to keep asking!”
“Being a butt…?”
“Besides which, it’s YOUR fault we’re stuck in here to begin with! So quit moping, hand over the timepiece, and nobody gets hurt!”
Yeah, alright, so she was a little stressed by the continuous dark. Not to mention the only possible rescuers wouldn’t likely pick up on their missing status until sometime Monday. after they spent a few hours cracking wise about Carlton bagging another blonde and the happy new couple must be sleeping it off. Okay, so actual real rescue might not start until after lunch on Tuesday… Great.
“You think I’m a butt?”
Invisible as a reaction, Juliet still rolled her eyes, mildly amused at the affronted hurt in her partner’s voice. Managing to stifle giggles, she cleared her throat before speaking.
“So do I get the watch or not?”
Another loud swallow, and the aluminum crinkle of a soda can being squashed and tossed. Not unexpectedly, this was followed by a loud belch.
A few moments of silence, and then a long exhale.
“No.”
_)()(_
DEET slathered on his torso and limbs- the odor was a source of continuous aggravation to the man paddling several feet to his right. So early that birds must be bitching about the noisy interruption, Shawn felt their pain as he propelled his kayak forward with another shove at the glass smooth water.
“You know, you’d think with the amount of chemicals on my skin right now it’d be keeping the bugs away not only from me, but this half of the state!” Monologue delivered with corresponding echo across the lake, Shawn swiped at the cloud of gnats whirling around his head.
Meanwhile, repellent free and unforgivably smug, Gus laid his paddle horizontally across the fiberglass top of his kayak. Flicking water droplets from his gloves, he leaned back almost lazily to crack his spine- swiveling his shoulders a bit to loosen them.
“What can I say Shawn? Half your diet is made up of jujubes and grape soda.” He snorted. “You should be glad you don’t attract hummingbirds with that sugar water you call blood.”
Shawn curled his lip. “Well that would explain why you want me to lick it all the time.” A bear-like yawn following the grumpy mumble. Too early for anything other than cotton blend, he pulled at the propylene shirt melded against his skin. Fashionably sporty it may be, the stretchy snap of the garment wrapped around him made him feel like a sweaty banana.
Still, it wasn’t the worst morning he’d ever spent on the water. Before wisdom and self-preservation had taken over, his father had managed to drag him on no less than four pre-dawn field trips to the fish equivalent of Bull Run. Casualties were heavy on both sides, the finny folk sacrificing many in repeated forays against the land dwellers invading their territory. Henry lost many a good lure to the lidless enemy, while Shawn infected the saltwater with his unsteady stomach- the moniker of ‘princess’ added to his list of aliases when the mere mention of scales had him green and bolting for the nearest basin.
Allowing themselves to drift a bit, momentum carried their kayaks gradually closer to the bank. In the stillness, both of them drinking in the morning; the distant call of a loon echoing with soft, yet nearly poignant beauty, reminded Shawn of something he'd meant to bring up back at the rental place.
“Dude, man pact. Should the opportunity arise at any time for a Deliverance reference, neither one of us is Ned Beatty.”
“You know that’s right.” Gus replied solemnly with a quick fist bump.
“For that matter, at the first sound of distant banjos, we are so out of here.” And Gus had better keep up because, friendship aside, there was no way he was waiting patiently while toothless back-woods hoodlums chased after them like they were the last grape lollipop in a dentist’s office.
“Shawn?”
“Mm?” Still scanning the nearby trees, he scratched the complex constellation of insect bites on the back of his neck. From behind, he heard the soft plish of Gus’s oars settling into the water.
“Shawn, there’s something that… Well, there’s something I want, need, to talk…”
“Y-AHH!!” Something brilliantly iridescent blue suddenly zipped towards Shawn’s face- his backward lurch nearly flipping the small boat as he dodged the creature attacking him- visual snapshot identifying even as his brain replayed Gus’s earlier taunt- holy crap, he was right about the hummingbirds! And then realization that the fast flutter wasn’t feathers as the dragonfly easily evaded the paddle swinging towards its multifaceted eyes.
Colorful kamikaze going about his routine after stealing several years from the man watching its retreating path, the insect disappeared back among the overhang of leafy branches from whence it came.
Whatever Gus wanted to discuss obviously went out the window in favor of rather sharp mockery. “Do I need to contact NORAD? Bet they could have a squadron of fighters out here in under an hour.”
Not appreciative of being on the wrong side of the taunting fence, not sure why Gus’s words had sounded so hard, Shawn prepared to turn his head with a quickly sketched out rejoinder when an interrupted ripple near the water’s edge bypassed speech for observation.
Dark fabric hung from a slender broken branch- tattered remains trailing in the warm shallows where small waves rose up to bump sharp woody tips before dropping again with a muted clup. Shawn paddled closer to the fragment, easing the prow through the tangle of matted limbs and greenery. Too congested to get much closer, he was forced to lean- arm stretching out over the lapping wavelets.
He was a finger length away when…
“Shawn!” Water exploded around him! Terrified shrieks punched from them both. Shawn jammed his paddles into the froth and tugged… and plowed his hopelessly fragile conveyance straight into the curtain of bark and leaves rimming the shore.
Twigs furrowing stinging lines across flesh as he struggled to break free, thicker branches hooked into fiberglass. And then the world flipped as a ramming shudder slammed against the kayak.
“Guupgh!!” Suddenly his mouth filled with water, muffled reverberating churning and thrashing- arms flying out to the side. Leaf litter and silt obscured his vision with muddy yellow clouds- his lungs burning fiercely. And then it finally resonated that he was upside down, and underwater.
Fear of drowning, however, didn’t even enter his head as he pivoted his neck to see… And a clogged scream released the last of his air- bubbles shooting around him as instinct took control- his arms twisting, thrusting, and with hacking coughs, he abruptly righted. Choking shudders nearly capsizing him again until the head of his paddle struck something hard and immobile- shoving him back towards the open water.
“Shawn!” The moment he’d torn free, Gus abandoned the blank horrified stare, digging furrows, nearly making rooster tails in his frantic flight and not once did he look back to confirm if his friend was following.
Okay, Shawn conceded that wasn’t entirely true- but glance or no, the man certainly didn’t slow down.
He could understand though; looking back was not something he was currently willing to entertain either. His heart continuously pounded against his sternum- cold racing through his extremities as he desperately propelled himself after the fleeing kayak before him.
Memory fought to rationalize what had just happened- categorize it somehow… But all his mind could see in an obscuring cloud of billowing murk were rows of huge sharp teeth, one furious yellow eye sizing him up, and a wide mouth, lunging…
Oh my God, it’s real!!
Neither one stopped their manic race, even as the gravel bank bit into hulls, the struggle to wrestle free from the kayaks made up of sideways toppling and swinging arms and kicking legs- both of them spilling back into the water- slithering and clawing until they finally scrambled back to shore- tearing for the car and not slowing down until doors were locked and engine roaring to life.
Water dripping from hair and skating down their faces, fingers trembling against thighs, the two shared a look as the confining safety of the vehicle began to sink in around them.
Finally, swallowing with some difficulty, the taste and texture of grit between his teeth, Shawn managed a shaky grin.
“Kay’, quick break- we get some smoothies, maybe split a turducken, and then come back and hit this again?”
Without a word, Gus put the car in gear and tore from the lot.