Snapdragon

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Chris Mason felt like he was being watched. He sat in the driver’s seat of the black Tahoe, parked behind a dumpster in an alley that ran between two three-story brick buildings. After a quick glance around, he ran his hand over his dark hair and then double-checked that the doors were locked. In his two years of working as an assistant private investigator, he typically didn’t have a bad feeling about their cases, but he was troubled this night.

He placed a camera on the dash and then verified it was recording to the laptop on the passenger’s seat. Next, he zoomed in the camera on the building across the street; it was all glass in front with a For Lease sign in the window. The lights had been on when Chris arrived there, but there was no one to be seen inside.

All that was left was to wait for the feed from his older brother Dylan’s camera to appear on the laptop, but it was almost nine o’clock. He wasn’t going to have to wait long.

He slid in an earpiece. “I’m in position.”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Dylan said.

A view inside Ron Abram’s truck popped up on the laptop; first, the dash and then Ron behind the wheel, his dark eyes fixed ahead and a smirk on his unshaven face.

“You always have trouble with that,” Ron said.

“Are you getting this?” Dylan asked.

The camera remained aimed at Ron.

“Yes. Looks good,” Chris said, then felt his cheeks blush. “You still don’t think we should call the cops in on this?”

“Naw,” Ron scoffed. “They’ll only screw it up.”

Chris verified the cameras and mics were recording once more, then took another look around the alley. Other than some trash being blown around, there wasn’t any movement, and yet he felt like someone was near.

“I don’t know why we’re trusting Bart Nolan on this,” Chris said.

“He said he has information about the Charity Grobin murder,” Dylan said.

“He’s never helped us before,” Chris said. “Probably rather shut us down.”

“We still need to check this out,” Dylan said.

“You’re going to trust a rival?”

“No,” Dylan said. “It was his number, but it wasn’t Nolan who called. Something’s definitely going to happen and I want to be ready when it does.”

“Don’t worry,” Ron said, his voice deep and husky. “We’re expecting a trap. We won’t get caught.”

Chris stole a glance out the driver side window, wishing he could shake the feeling of someone standing beside him. Tonight was getting to him and he couldn’t place why. He’d seen a lot of bad things in his line of work, but Charity’s murder affected him more than usual. Perhaps it was how the young woman had been so brutally stabbed, or maybe it was how she’d been found in a hotel room with flowers surrounding her dead body.

Ron’s truck pulled up to the curb in front of the building and parked. Dylan and Ron stepped out and quickly surveyed the area, then went inside.

“Hello?” Dylan yelled. “Anybody here?”

Dylan and Ron took a few steps deeper into the front office, toward a table that had a vase full of red and yellow flowers sitting in the middle.

“Odd,” Dylan said.

Ron took a stem from the vase. “Snapdragons.” He held the stem up to the camera for Chris to see the red flowers shaped like dragon heads, then pushed the middle of one flower so the mouth of the dragon opened as he let out a soft roar. “For my favorite Snapdragon.” Ron winked at him through the camera’s lens.

Chris felt his cheeks warm. He knew what a prankster Ron could be and didn’t take his flirts to heart, but he enjoyed the playful tone Ron used when he called him by his nickname.

“Watch out,” Dylan said, “he’ll snap all right.”

“Hey,” Chris said.

“That’s him,” Ron said, grinning into the camera.

Dylan turned to his left and followed a trail of flowers scattered on the floor that led to a doorway of a dark room. “Why are they here?” Dylan asked.

Ron said, “This might not be good.”

“Dylan Mason, with Mason and Abrams. Anyone here?” Dylan said.

They waited a few moments in silence, then Ron nodded and drew his gun.

“We’re going in the back,” Dylan said. Dylan aimed his gun in front of him as he advanced into the building. They entered a back room lit only by a handful of fluorescent lights.

“Anyone here?” Ron called out as they slowed their movement into the room.

Chris’s heart beat faster as he watched Dylan and Ron move deeper into what felt like a trap. He shook his head and tried to tell himself everything would be fine, that he was just being paranoid.

“There’s flowers everywhere,” Ron said.

Snapdragons littered the floor and sat in several vases around the room. Chris drew in a breath and held it. Whatever waited in there to be found wasn’t going to be good.

He felt a quick rush of fear as Dylan turned and pointed the camera at words painted in red on the wall.

What You Love the Most Will Suffer the Greatest

A knife stuck out of the wall below the threat. The camera moved in closer and focused on the knife and a picture it pinned onto the wall. Chris caught his breath as he recognized the picture of him and Ron, with Ron kissing his cheek. The knife was sticking out of Chris’s face.

The camera went dark as Dylan put his hand over it. “You don’t need to see this.”

“I saw it.”

“Dylan, over here!” Ron yelled.

Dylan rushed over to Ron, who was knelt beside a woman’s body. He turned her onto her back, her limp body rolling like a rag doll.

“Does she have a pulse?” Dylan asked.

“No,” Ron said with an angry tone. He pulled a phone from the back pocket of his jeans, then dialed 911. With a huff, he stood and then walked away from the body as he began talking to a dispatcher.

“I’m coming in,” Chris said.

“Stay there,” Dylan said.

“I’m not staying out here alone.”

Chris started the ignition and looked up as the headlights filled the alley. A man in all black wearing a bald, old man mask with a beak-like nose stood at the bumper, then rushed to the driver’s side with a crowbar raised.

“Guys!” Chris yelled as the window shattered, sending glass flying in at him.

The attacker reached in and grabbed the back of Chris’s head, then slammed him into the steering wheel. Chris tried to shove the guy away, but his attacker reached in, unlocked the door, and then opened it. He grabbed Chris by the shirt, pulled him from his seat, and then slammed him against the side of the Tahoe, wrapping his hand around Chris’s neck and resting the crowbar against his head. “You’re going to suffer,” the attacker said in a demonic growl.

The man’s hold was strong, but Chris didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the crowbar and forced the man’s arm down and delivered a right hook to the attacker’s chin. He was released as the man turned with the blow. Chris delivered a punch to the man’s middle, but then the man hit him across the chin.

The man grabbed Chris by his hair and pulled him away from the Tahoe as a dark SUV drove into the alley as if summoned. Chris punched twice at the man’s side, then the man slammed him against the Tahoe. Despite his pain, he swung his fist into the man’s middle, then shoved the man away.

“CHRIS!” Dylan yelled as he ran down the alley toward them.

Chris’s attacker swung the crowbar. It was a weak blow, but it still caught him on the arm and knocked him back, then his attacker turned and ran toward the SUV.

Chris chased after him with Dylan and Ron behind him, but the attacker got into the passenger’s side of the early model Ford Explorer that sped away before the door shut. All Chris could see were the taillights, not the plates.

Sirens filled the night as Chris leaned against the wall and let out a frustrated laugh. Ron was on the phone reporting the description of the Explorer, but Chris had little faith the night would end with an arrest.

“Are you okay?” Dylan asked.

Chris reached up to feel his lip, then checked his hand for blood, but it was clear. “I’m okay.”

Dylan’s face lit with a smile. “Told ya you should’ve been a boxer.”

He waved off his brother’s comment as they walked back toward the Tahoe. Across the street, a police car parked by Ron’s truck. With Dylan’s attention on the increasing cop activity, Chris stole a glance at Ron. Ron’s eyes were full of concern as they held each other’s gaze for a moment, but then Ron looked down, like the contact had made him uncomfortable.

“It was a trap, but not to get us,” Ron said as he met Chris’s eyes again. “It was to get Snapdragon.”