Something Missing_ A Novel - Matthew Dicks [67]
Standard operating procedure in these circumstances was simple. Evacuate the house if possible, and if not (as was this case this time), take up a position in a predetermined hiding spot until the client exited the home again. Until his encounter with the Claytons, Martin had never found himself in this type of situation, but the possibility had always remained in his mind. For this reason, Martin had identified at least two hiding spots in each of his clients’ homes in the event of an emergency. These locations were chosen based upon his belief that they were infrequently accessed by the clients. The Ashleys, for example, had a closet in their basement filled with Christmas decorations, and a walk-in closet in a second-floor guest bedroom that was entirely empty. Martin felt that either location would serve as an effective hiding place in the event that he became trapped in the home.
In the case of the Claytons, Martin had identified as emergency hiding spots a corner behind the furnace in the basement and a closet in their home office that contained financial records from previous decades. But his rush to return the toothbrush to its proper location had prevented him from reaching one of his predetermined hiding spots in their home.
Yet he had escaped unscathed.
As Martin began to ascend the staircase to the second floor, the screen door on the porch swung open with a whining squeak and was followed by the sound of footsteps. Martin was now certain that this new arrival was neither Justine nor Daniel Ashley. Using the front door, which adjoined the screened porch, was not something the couple did with any frequency. Coat hooks, a bowl for keys, and an umbrella stand were all positioned in the kitchen by the side door, making it clear that the Ashleys used this entrance on a regular basis.
Still not taking any chances, Martin continued to move upstairs, stopping only at the sound of the porch door slamming shut. Though the suspected delivery man hadn’t rung the doorbell or knocked on the Ashleys’ front door, Martin wasn’t surprised. He knew that delivery drivers typically maintained the same route, so if he (or she) had delivered packages to the house before (and apparently he had), he would know that the Ashleys were not home during the day. Martin paused, listening intently for the sound of the would-be delivery truck’s engine and was rewarded a few moments later by the expected mechanical growl. Still, he waited a full three minutes before returning downstairs and resuming his normal activities.
There were less than five minutes left before Martin would need to exit the Ashleys’ home when the phone rang and a message was recorded on their answering machine, words that would eventually cause Martin to deviate from his routine yet again, and change his life forever.
“Hi guys! It’s Laura. Hey, I’m so sorry that I missed the party. I know I said I’d be there, but I got stuck in Philly with my Uncle Bob. He’s still pretty sick, you know. I wish I could’ve been there and I’m so sorry I didn’t call. Things just got crazy, if you know what I mean. Danny, I just dropped off your gift on the way to work. It’s on the porch next to the swing. Hope you like it! I’ll try you again later tonight, okay? Bye!”
As the answering machine beeped, indicating the end of the recording, Martin wasted no time in moving to the front of the house. Standing beside the living room window, he peeked through drawn curtains onto the enclosed porch. Sure enough, a long tubular package was resting against the swing, wrapped in colorful paper.
Standing there, staring at this unexpected surprise, Martin felt the same urge that he had first sensed inside the Claytons’ coat closet return. It was the feeling of opportunity, of obligation.
The Ashleys owned a gourmet catering service in their hometown