Twenty-one eighty-four Elm Street was in darkness except for a light flickering in the bottom window. Juarez parked his Wrangler opposite the yellow bricked and white aluminum side-split home and left his engine running. His instincts told him that something wasn’t right. Eunice’s bike with the red dragon heads spitting fire painted on its sides was not parked in its usual location. Either she had not arrived yet, which was highly unlikely since he was much later than expected, or he had misjudged the urgency of her phone call. Another unlikely. Through the lit lower window, several dark outlines moved to-and-fro in a frenzied manner. A black Cadillac Escalade which faced the street from the drive had backed into Wallis’s painted yellow flared-winged Harley, knocking it over. Not a friendly visit. His eyes continued to scan the house and grounds as he turned off his engine. He retrieved the Glock from the glove compartment and placed it beside him then took a picture of the Navigator with his iPhone. Four heavy-set men, each carrying boxes, vacated the house and he ducked down. Raising his phone just high enough, so as not to be detected, he fired off a series of quick snaps before the headlights on the Navigator blared on and they drove off.
The back door to the house had been kicked in. Juarez drew a deep breath then stepped onto the landing. The upper rooms were still in darkness while the lower level teetertottered between gray shadow and LED brightness. “Wallis! It’s me. I’m coming down.” He had never called her Wally. He just couldn’t. In his mind the name Wally associated with the petite and young attractive woman caused too much cognitive dissonance that didn’t fit well with him. “Damn!” His knee hit an overturned chair as he slithered across a viscous liquid substance at the bottom of the stairs. Whoever turned this place had done a thorough job of it. “Wallis, where are you?” He gave his knee a brisk rub and warily took in his surroundings. All the monitors had been smashed and whatever they had been attached to, only cables remained dangling loosely over the edge of the desks. All the file cabinets along one wall had been rifled open and their contents strewn about the floor. He used a piece of carpeting as an abrasive to eliminate the slippery goo from his soles then entered the short corridor into the other room. In total darkness, he switched on the light of his iPhone. “Jesus, Wallis, where the hell are you?” His foot hit something that clunked and pinged across the floor and came to rest with a bonking sound. He searched the wall for the light switch and was about to turn it on when cold metal and the click of its hammer pressed against his neck. Instinctively, he slowly began to raise his hands while at the same time he was relieved of his phone.
“I thought that was you out front. Hands on the wall and step back.” His Glock was removed from its position in his lower back. “Stay your position. Now tell me, what the hell are you doing here? And how do you know Wally and Eunice?”
“Is Wallis alright?” He attempted to turn his head but was met with a quick rebuff from the barrel of the gun.
“Eyes straight ahead! I wouldn’t know. Neither was here when we arrived.”
“We?”
“Yes, smart ass! I hung back when I recognized your vehicle. Ooof!”
The thud behind him was unmistakeable. She had fallen like a lead brick to the floor.