Merchants with Evil Intent by Kerrie DuBrock Page A

whispered.
           “One’s already in front of the house.
They knew she’d decline the offer but said they didn’t give a shit. They’ve
worked out a schedule and she won’t even know they’re there.”
           John nodded, “Good men.”
           “If she shit cans the Ireland idea, call
me,” Tom called over his shoulder.
    *       *       *
           John poked his head into the bedroom.
“Did you pack anything warm?” he asked.
           She jumped at the sound of his voice. “Cripes!
You scared the hell outta me! Why would I need something warm? It’s hotter than
hell outside!”
           He sat on the corner of the bed and
patted the open space next to him. “What’s up?” she asked.
           “I have a plane ticket that needs to be
used in two days.”
           “No way! Uncle
John it’s your retirement trip! It’s not that serious.”
           He stood up and growled, “Not serious?
Cam, someone broke into your home and left threatening notes here and your
office. How can you say it’s not serious?”
           She stood, glaring at him. “I’m not using
your plane ticket and that’s the end of this discussion!”
           She pushed the top of the suitcase firmly
down and locked it. She stormed into the living room and picked up her tote bag
and stomped towards the bathroom.
           She crammed her make-up bag on top of her
toiletries and stomped back into the living room announcing she was ready to
leave. As they walked to the front door she turned and glanced at the coffee
table. She quickly ran to it and picked up the half-pack of cigarettes Tom left.
She might need them later.
    *       *       *
           When she pulled into her parent’s
driveway the front door of their house flew open and within moments her dad
pulled her from the car.
           “Dad, I’m okay.”
           “Hush and let me hold you for a minute,”
he hoarsely replied.
           Claire came up behind and wrapped her
arms around her waist. Her mom stood in the doorway, wiping the tears from her
eyes.
           Her dad kept his arm firmly around her
waist as they walked towards the house.
           “My stuff,” Camryn mumbled.
           Claire offered, “I’ll get it for you.”
           Grace came down the steps and grabbed her
and hugged her tightly. “Mom, I’m okay.”
           “You’re a tough cookie, like your mom!”
she cried.
           John held Camryn’s suitcase and waved his
other hand. “Come on everyone. Let’s get inside.” He was the last one to enter
and turned his eyes to the street. Seeing nothing amiss he closed the door.
    *       *       *
           When Ryan arrived Camryn and John shared
the details of the day’s events.
           “If not Viktor, then
who?” Ryan asked.
           John grimaced. “That’s the million dollar
question.”
           “In your articles on the missing women
have you made any derogatory statements about the person responsible?” Ryan
asked.
           “I never thought of that angle! I said
something to the effect the deranged person is still at large. Paul didn’t want
me to editorialize in my story, but as I pointed out, the person had to be
deranged to kidnap.”
           “So, if I’m on the right track then the
person the cops are looking for is a Russian stalker,” Ryan smirked.
           Everyone in the room shot him a glare.
           He lifted his hands, “What? Just sayin’!”
           Patrick dismissed his son with a grunt.
“They’re looking for a needle in a haystack.”
           “Not if they look at Viktor,” John ground
out.
           To change the topic Camryn asked about
dinner. “I planned on having left-over’s,” Grace apologized.
           John pulled out his wallet and handed a
wad of cash to Ryan. “Why don’t you and