Triple Trouble: A Cassidy Callahan Novel. Kelly Rysten

I had something in mind and it happened at 6:00 p.m. He ran his hand through his hair, thinking, trying not to act, trying to keep his cool. Hoo, boy.

      “So, what was the big hurry leaving the parking lot?” he asked. We had to play this out now, even though he knew he had Silva cornered.

      “I was really late for something and thought I wouldn’t get there in time. I didn’t realize I was going that fast. I was just rushed.”

      “And you’ve never seen this man before?” I couldn’t help it, my eyes glanced left.

      “No.”

      “Here’s my card. Can you give me a call if you happen to think of anything that might help? This guy’s wanted for bank robbery and murder so we’re kind of in a rush to get him off the streets.” This last part didn’t seem to be information he’d pass on to a potential accessory. Of course, if I’d helped Manny with the getaway I’d probably know these things anyway.

      He turned to go and I turned to close the door. It was very tempting to run for it right then but I felt the gun and I knew I could improve my chances at 6:00 p.m. I just prayed 6:00 got here before Oscar. When I turned around I saw anger, only anger. Silva knew the police were out there. This was a grim reminder.

      “You were smart not to pull anything. Here’s what you can look forward to if you try anything. And I mean ANYTHING.” He hit me with a punch to my eye and another left punch to the stomach. I slumped forward and he brought his knee up cracking me in the jaw again. He then picked me up by the front of my shirt and tossed me across the room. I lay stunned and more determined than ever to beat this guy.

      The day passed in a constant state of tension. I was fighting anxiety and at the same time trying to play up the little trust that Silva had in me. I’d stood up to the police once. He knew that. Actually the tension in the air made Silva think he had me scared and I guess in a way he was right. I wasn’t afraid of the pain. I’d felt pain in many ways before. It always goes away eventually. I was a little afraid of dying but I was too proud to think I’d let that happen. I was more afraid of failure. I didn’t want this guy to get away. In fact, I was determined to get Silva and Oscar both behind bars. It just seemed like a heavy responsibility.

      When Shadow’s afternoon feeding came, I only pretended to feed him, dropping just enough kibble in his bowl to make noise. I got some thick, juicy steaks out of the freezer, defrosted them and put them in marinade. Seems like I marinade everything.

      I baked potatoes. Four o’clock rolled around. Walking by the mirror I took a glance. I had a shiner of a black eye and a couple of lumps on my head from my airmail flight across the living room. Michaels would be sure to notice that if he came back at six. Nothing said it would be him that came, but I thought I could count on somebody. The clock seemed to stand still. I tried not to look at it too often.

      At five o’clock I scooped the insides out of the baked potatoes, then mashed them up with some butter, sour cream, grated cheese, salt and pepper. I put the mess back in the potato skins and topped it all with cheese, then stuck the casserole dish with the two potatoes into the oven. I started the barbecue grill and heated it up. After scraping the chicken gunk off the rack I added the steaks. I prepared a salad and placed the bowl on the table. I was trying to stay busy so I wouldn’t panic. Panic was very close to the surface but I pushed it down. Shadow was following my every movement. He was hungry and I was counting on him to stay that way.

      At ten till six I took up the steaks and set the food on the table. Five minutes later we sat down to eat. I could have sworn the clock died. Time stood still. Seconds felt like minutes and minutes felt like hours. Silva dug into his steak. I didn’t want him to finish eating before things started happening so I got up a few times to get things out of the fridge; steak sauce, then salad dressing. If he was tired of hot dogs and bologna, a good steak should keep his attention.

      Shadow had his eye on the table. Good boy.

      A few minutes after 6:00 p.m. the doorbell rang. I jumped. I looked at Silva for direction and he nodded, giving the okay. I walked to the door like a zombie. My legs wouldn’t work right. I had the shakes. Glancing behind me Silva was still at the table watching, his gun pointed in my direction. The doorbell rang again. I guess time was working faster on the other side. I opened the door and there was Michaels, this time wearing faded blue jeans and a t-shirt advertising outdoor gear. Just a neighbor here to ask a question.

      “Hi, Cassidy,” he said brightly, “I was wondering if you could help me out with something. Wow, what happened to your eye?”

      “Umm,” I stammered, “Don’t worry about it. What’s up?”

      “My girlfriend bet me a six-pack that I couldn’t cook dinner, so now I need to come up with something she’ll like and I was wondering how to make meat loaf.”

      Is he serious? I thought. Meatloaf?

      “Meatloaf? Why meatloaf?” A glance at Silva. “Sure, I can tell you how to make meatloaf but that’s not exactly a meal that is going to impress a girl.

      Meatloaf is what housewives make if they can’t think of anything else.” I glanced at Silva. He rolled his eyes and started eating his steak.

      Michaels looked at me quizzically, like okay, what would impress a girl? Was he enjoying this? I felt like a jellyfish. My legs were all wobbly. I was barely thinking. I was watching for my break.

      “Okay, I’ll bite. What would impress a girl?”

      “You have to make something like she’d order at a restaurant. There’s easy ways to make dishes like that, too. When is she coming over?”

      “Tomorrow.”

      “That gives you some time. Go to the store and buy a bottle of Jamaica Mistake. It’s a marinade.” Gee, I guess I do marinade everything. “Get a package of boneless chicken breasts. Put the two in a big Ziploc bag and marinade it for a few hours. Cook the chicken on the grill and steam some vegetables to go on the side. You can cook rice to go with it.”

      I stole another glance at Silva. He was getting impatient. Good, that was just what I wanted. He rose and stood at the door of the dining room. He caught the tablecloth on his way out and his plate scooted towards the edge of the table as he got up. Even better. Shadow stared at the plate. He really wanted that steak but he knew he had to get the code word first. His ears pricked, begging for the code word. He drooled a little.

      “Chicken?” he said. “You think she’ll like chicken?”

      “Better than hamburger. You can do the same thing with steak but I like it with chicken better.” Check out the dining room. I looked Michaels in the eye and slid the car keys out of my pocket pointing at the electric blue BMW Roadster parked on the street. A barely noticeable nod affirmed he got it.

      Chatting with a neighbor was not the same thing as getting rid of them. Silva was debating between heading off something at the door and sitting down to his steak. This is what I was waiting for. I glanced at Shadow. He was so close to that plate all he needed was… “Okay,” I said, and then louder, “Get it!”

      Shadow lunged for the steak. There was a clatter for silverware and china and Silva turned. He lunged for the dog. I hopped out the door, closing it behind me. I slid the key in the lock and heard the bolt slide in. I dashed for the car. There were a lot more cars on my street than usual. Men in uniform hunched behind them. My hands were shaking so bad I couldn’t find the keyhole. Stupid key! Come on! The curtains were thrust aside and a shot went wild over our heads shattering my front window. The key slid in. I heard the snap of the door locks disengaging and we jumped in. I turned the key, threw the car into gear and took off. Zero to sixty in 5 seconds. Thank you, Jack! I love this car. I screeched around the corner and took the left turn that led out of the neighborhood, then immediately had to brake to a stop at the police barricade.

      “Whoa, little lady. You can stop here. This is the where the good guys hang out.” I pulled to a stop beside the group of police cars. A uniform walked up to Michaels, checking us out.

      “Everybody