Creep - Jennifer Hillier [107]
Jerry stared at Morris for a full three seconds. Then he burst out laughing.
He laughed so hard tears appeared in the corners of his eyes, glistening in the streetlights that shone through the windows. “I’m sorry,” Jerry said, gasping. He threw up a hand, struggling to control his laughter. Then he started all over again. “You should see the look on your face. ‘Take me out’? Jesus Christ, that was funny.”
Morris didn’t see the humor. “You finished, asshole? I meant what I said.”
“I could take you.”
“No, you couldn’t.”
Jerry shook his head as his laughter subsided. “You’re worse than a five-year-old.”
“Okay, let’s go,” Morris said, pushing down the door handle again.
Jerry placed a hand on his shoulder. “Wait.” His voice was gentle. “Just wait. Give me five minutes. Let me call Torrance. At least let him know we’re here, in case something goes wrong. Hell, it’s a long shot, but maybe I can convince him to reopen the case based on the tape. Sheila was with a strange man the night she was last seen, possibly drugged, as you said. Who knows, it could be grounds for a search.” He looked dubious, but he flipped open his cell phone anyway. “Just calm down and give me five stinking minutes.”
Morris sat back in his seat and made a show of checking his watch. “Four minutes fifty-five seconds,” he said, but only because it made him feel better.
Ethan watched the black Honda Accord from a window at the front of the house, peering between two curtains. He knew they couldn’t see him; all his lights were off and the house was dark. The car door had opened for a second, illuminating two faces in heated discussion. Then it had closed again.
His instincts told him they weren’t coming inside. Not tonight, anyway. The PI was an ex-cop, and no doubt he was explaining to Morris right now that they had no cause, no justification.
Ethan turned away from the window and walked back toward the basement door. It bolted automatically behind him.
If they wanted to come after him, they’d have to shoot their way in.
CHAPTER : 35
Jerry spoke in serious tones before finally hanging up the phone. Morris had been listening to one side of the conversation and needed no explanation.
“This is bullshit and you know it,” Morris fumed, his hand back on the passenger door. “You both have your heads up your asses. I knew Torrance wasn’t gonna help.” He was out of the car before Jerry could stop him.
Morris dashed across the street, crossing Wolfe’s front yard in five long strides, and rang the doorbell without hesitating.
Nobody answered. He rang the bell again, holding his ear to the door. Unable to make out any sounds or movements from inside the house, he rang the bell once again and listened to the echo of the chime within. Frustrated, he pounded on the thick door with his fist.
A light went on in the house next door.
Jerry had been hovering on the sidewalk, seemingly unwilling to set foot on Wolfe’s property. But when Morris shouted at full volume, Jerry was on the porch in three seconds.
“Sheila!” Morris bellowed, banging on Wolfe’s door several more times. His deep baritone rang out in the sleeping neighborhood.
“All right, all right.” Jerry grabbed Morris’s arm. “Enough!”
“Go to hell.” Morris wrangled his arm away while continuing to bang on the door with his other fist. “Sheila!”
Jerry made a move to grab Morris’s other arm. Before Morris could stop himself, his clenched fist socked the private investigator right in the eye.
Jerry fell backward over the steps and onto the wet grass. He landed on his ass, legs splaying