Fun and Games - Duane Swierczynski [14]
Well, and the sunbathing babe.
This was getting old fast. Hardie was wondering what he was going to say to Lowenbruck about all of this. Because after he got this girl calmed and into his rental car, he would have to call the police—and then Virgil. But there wasn’t any way around that. Lowenbruck would need a report for his insurance. Especially if she broke anything. God knows what she did to this place since helping herself to the keys. Goldilocks only ate porridge and smashed chairs and fell asleep in beds. And Goldilocks wasn’t a teenaged junkie.
Wait.
The girl had obviously helped herself to the keys, but how did she manage to deactivate the alarm? It had been set when Hardie had opened the sliding doors.
The story in his head changed.
Maybe this wasn’t a college girl. Maybe this was one of Lowenbruck’s barely legal exes. She didn’t have keys, but she knew the security code because he never bothered to change it. She runs into trouble, goes to the first place that comes to mind.
Either way, Hardie had to get her out of here and the police thing over with. He was exhausted. Being stabbed in the chest didn’t help his mood either. He hoped it was a few stitches and a couple of Vikes kind of situation… not a go-to-a-hospital-for-major-surgery-because,-oh,-your-lung-is-collapsing kind of situation. He still didn’t want to look down at the wound.
Hardie took a step forward, held out his hand. “C’mon.”
The girl seemed outraged by the suggestion.
“Don’t you come anywhere near me.”
“We both need a trip to the hospital. We can sort this all out in the waiting room.”
“You don’t understand. I’m not leaving this house. I don’t care what you say or what you do, but I’m not leaving.”
No, Hardie didn’t understand, but add it to the long, long list of things he didn’t understand.
And then the world around them fell silent.
5
Arnold Schwarzenegger: Where did you learn how to do that?
Rae Dawn Chong: I read the instructions.
—Commando
HE FOUND the transformer, traced the power lines to the underside of the house. Slashing the wires was foolish; you wanted to be able to resume power quickly if need be, or cover your tracks. So he used a putty knife to strip away the layer of gray utility clay bunched around the cable, carefully placing the chunks in his jacket pocket. Soon the copper cables, insulated in layers of lead and rubber, were revealed, and he carefully disconnected them from the digital meter.
A few feet away, the HVAC unit, resting on a pad of concrete, shut down and spun out to a total stop.
“Power’s out. Hooking up the governor now.”
“Good.”
He screwed the loose wires into a small hard-plastic box that could be controlled by remote. Power was gone, but it could be back on line if needed.
Next up: security system, satellite dish, gas lines, water. All the things you took for granted until you pushed a button, flipped a switch, or turned a knob and nothing happened. And the security system? That was a joke because it depended on a battery, as well as a landline to notify the company. Disable both and they’d have no idea. Nope, nothing wrong here.
Hardie looked around the recording studio. It was hard to tell at first what was wrong—just that something suddenly felt wrong. He stood up, glanced down briefly, then up again. Maybe it was him. Maybe his brain was shutting down, his soul preparing to depart his body and simply shutting off all of his senses before it left.
No… the girl seemed to hear it, too. Her head snapped to the left, then the right. She touched her lips.
“What was that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Hardie said. “Stay here.”
“Where the fuck are you going?”
Hardie ignored her, then started climbing the stairs, keenly aware of his heart pumping the blood that enabled his limbs to move. In his mind’s eye, he saw his heart working okay, just hanging in there… until a fat artery suddenly popped out of his heart, twisting and leaking like a severed garden hose, whipping around his chest and spraying his lungs with dark blood.
Knock