the two. Ellis was crossing the gap between the trailers when she felt a hand clamp over her mouth and a vice-like arm encircle her body, pinning her arms to her side. Cold fear drenched her. She was dragged back, into the darkness between the trailers where the moonlight didn’t penetrate. She felt smothered. Ellis started to panic, her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she struggled for a deep breath. She tried to scream but it was nothing more than a muffled whimper against the rough hand.
“Shhh, it’s me!” a gravelly voice hissed in her ear.
She froze at the sound of the familiar voice. She knew his smell. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek. Simon Callon. Her terror dissolved into fury.
“What the hell are you doing?” came out as “Mm mm MMMM mm mm mm-mm?”
“Shhh! Do not make a sound. I’m going to move my hand but do not move and do not make a sound,” he said, emphasizing every word.
She felt his grip loosen but before he released her, he said quietly in her ear, “We’ve got company.”
Ellis, about to berate him for scaring the living daylights out of her, saw a vehicle swing into the backyard. She’d been so frightened that she hadn’t heard its approach. Windows open, headlights off, the dark-colored pickup swung around and reversed into position between the trailer and the tent. Simon, who still had his arm around Ellis’ middle, pulled her back deeper into the shadows.
“What’s going—” Ellis began to ask in a whisper, but Simon’s tightened grip warning her to be silent.
They watched two men get out of the truck. Ellis noticed that the larger man, a flat-nosed goon in a muscle shirt, had a visible bulge in the small of his back. He would be perfectly cast as Thug Number One in a mob movie. Thug’s buddy, the driver, was a short, wiry man. They looked familiar…
She knew the little guy. It was Jim! Why was Simon hiding and shushing her when one of his employees was here? She’d run into Jim a number of times in the house, most recently when he stopped by one evening to pick up some tools he’d left behind.
Ellis’ Spidey sense finally kicked in. She needed to tell Simon. Her back was still firmly held against him so she stood on her tiptoes and turned her head, motioning for his ear.
“It’s Jim,” she said in the quietest possible whisper.
She felt Simon’s nod against her hair.
“Here last night too,” she breathed against his ear.
He pulled his head back for a moment, as if in thought, before he dropped his ear back to her lips.
“Came after midnight. Surprised I was here. Said he forgot tools.” After each phrase, Simon gave her a little squeeze indicating that he understood. “Came in alone—Thug stayed in car. I recognize his silhouette.” She could feel Simon nodding his head. “He’s got a gun.”
“What was that?” Jim said, stopping in mid-stride. While Ellis was talking, the trespassers had dropped the tailgate and laid out some sheets of blue tarp.
“I didn’t hear nothin’. You’re being paranoid,” Thug said.
Jim looked around, squinting into the moonlit yard. He scanned the grounds, passing right over Ellis and Simon huddled in the shadows.
“Probably just the wind.”
“What am I looking for?” Thug asked, shining his flashlight over the stacked boxes of tiles resting on pallets.
“M7,” Jim replied.
Ellis stiffened, knowing exactly what the code meant. The “M” indicated main floor and “7” was the number assigned to her bathroom. What did they want with her stuff?
Simon, reading her mind, squeezed her lightly and whispered, “Just watch and try to remember everything we’re seeing.”
“You got the hammer?” Jim asked.
“Nah, don’t need one.”
They watched in silence as Thug and Jim lifted three cardboard boxes of her precious Tuscan Sun tiles and threw them hard onto the ground, one after
“Shhh, it’s me!” a gravelly voice hissed in her ear.
She froze at the sound of the familiar voice. She knew his smell. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek. Simon Callon. Her terror dissolved into fury.
“What the hell are you doing?” came out as “Mm mm MMMM mm mm mm-mm?”
“Shhh! Do not make a sound. I’m going to move my hand but do not move and do not make a sound,” he said, emphasizing every word.
She felt his grip loosen but before he released her, he said quietly in her ear, “We’ve got company.”
Ellis, about to berate him for scaring the living daylights out of her, saw a vehicle swing into the backyard. She’d been so frightened that she hadn’t heard its approach. Windows open, headlights off, the dark-colored pickup swung around and reversed into position between the trailer and the tent. Simon, who still had his arm around Ellis’ middle, pulled her back deeper into the shadows.
“What’s going—” Ellis began to ask in a whisper, but Simon’s tightened grip warning her to be silent.
They watched two men get out of the truck. Ellis noticed that the larger man, a flat-nosed goon in a muscle shirt, had a visible bulge in the small of his back. He would be perfectly cast as Thug Number One in a mob movie. Thug’s buddy, the driver, was a short, wiry man. They looked familiar…
She knew the little guy. It was Jim! Why was Simon hiding and shushing her when one of his employees was here? She’d run into Jim a number of times in the house, most recently when he stopped by one evening to pick up some tools he’d left behind.
Ellis’ Spidey sense finally kicked in. She needed to tell Simon. Her back was still firmly held against him so she stood on her tiptoes and turned her head, motioning for his ear.
“It’s Jim,” she said in the quietest possible whisper.
She felt Simon’s nod against her hair.
“Here last night too,” she breathed against his ear.
He pulled his head back for a moment, as if in thought, before he dropped his ear back to her lips.
“Came after midnight. Surprised I was here. Said he forgot tools.” After each phrase, Simon gave her a little squeeze indicating that he understood. “Came in alone—Thug stayed in car. I recognize his silhouette.” She could feel Simon nodding his head. “He’s got a gun.”
“What was that?” Jim said, stopping in mid-stride. While Ellis was talking, the trespassers had dropped the tailgate and laid out some sheets of blue tarp.
“I didn’t hear nothin’. You’re being paranoid,” Thug said.
Jim looked around, squinting into the moonlit yard. He scanned the grounds, passing right over Ellis and Simon huddled in the shadows.
“Probably just the wind.”
“What am I looking for?” Thug asked, shining his flashlight over the stacked boxes of tiles resting on pallets.
“M7,” Jim replied.
Ellis stiffened, knowing exactly what the code meant. The “M” indicated main floor and “7” was the number assigned to her bathroom. What did they want with her stuff?
Simon, reading her mind, squeezed her lightly and whispered, “Just watch and try to remember everything we’re seeing.”
“You got the hammer?” Jim asked.
“Nah, don’t need one.”
They watched in silence as Thug and Jim lifted three cardboard boxes of her precious Tuscan Sun tiles and threw them hard onto the ground, one after
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