Chapter Six
Peter opened the window all the way and whispered, “You first and try not to break anything.”
Davy stuck out his tongue and slid inside, coming up into a fighting stance in the empty room.
Peter followed, walking over to the desk. “Start looking.”
“Looking for what?” Davy hissed.
“Anything to link him to the houses.”
“Right.” Davy went over to the filing cabinet, using his knife to pry open the top drawer.
Peter did the same to the desk, jimmying it open. “Aw, shit,” he mumbled.
“What?” Davy said, darting over to join hijm.
Peter was scowling at the .38 special in the drawer.
Davy’s eyes went wide. “W . . . what’s he planning to do with that?”
“Don’t know. Let’s not give him the chance.” He used the thinnest point of his blade and lifted the gun, sliding it into the waistband of his pants.
“I found this,” Davy said, plopping a thick manila folder onto the desk.
Opening it, Peter scanned the contents. “This is it . . . let’s get outta here.”
“Right.” Davy slid over to the window, pulling the sash up as high as it would go.
Peter joined him just as their luck ran out. The door blew open and two goons rushed in. “Go!! Go!!”
Davy barely stopped himself from plunging to the ground as Peter shoved him out the window. His climbing claws scraped down the wall before finally catching on a thick trellis and stopping his downward movement. Peter awkwardly dove out the window after him. His claws caught on the same trellis, a few feet under Davy, and he climbed hand over hand downward. Bullets flew around them as they scrambled for the welcoming shadows of the buildings nearby.
“Regroup at home!” Mike bellowed. With those words four shadows split up, darting off in separate directions.
Davy was the first to arrive home. Peter was the last, keeping his head down as he entered. Micky followed, with Mike arriving last, sliding so quietly through the back door that he startled the other three. Peter—oddly—kept to the shadows. “You should have been named the Cat.”
Mike gave him a faint smile. “What’d you guys find out?”
“We found a folder, but Peter had it when we bailed.”
Mike looked to Peter. “Well?”
Still hiding his face, Peter pulled out the gun and laid it on the table.
Mike just stared for a moment. “Peter, look at me.”
The North Wind just turned his face further into the shadows.
Mike went over to him. “Peter.”
His shoulders raised in a resigned sigh. He slowly raised his face and turned it toward Mike. The left side was discolored and swollen, the eye nearly shut.
There was a loud clatter as Mike’s staff hit the floor. “Peter! What happened?”
The undamaged side of his mouth curved in a slight smile. “I yin-ed where I should have yang-ed.”
“C’mon, sit down,” Mike said, leading Peter over to the table and forcing him into one of the chairs.
“Would you stop? It’s painful, but I’m all right!”
“Peter, you look like the Elephant Man!” Micky said. “Just let Mike fuss over you, okay?”
Peter rolled his eyes and let Mike fuss. “Hold on . . . here.” He reached under his shirt and pulled out the folder.
Mike handed it to Micky. “You two start lookin’ through that.” He went to the kitchen band began preparing an icepack.
“I’m fine, okay? I just need to sleep.”
“You’ll get sleep—soon as we get your face taken care of.”
A growled sigh, and Peter relented.
Mike pressed a towel-wrapped handful of ice against Peter’s face.
“Aaaah—F . . . Ah!”
“Easy, Peter,” Mike said. “Just hold that there, let the swellin’ go down.”
“Freezing!” he barked, but leaned back and let the ice do its magic.
“What’s in that thing?” Mike said, nodding to the scattered papers.
“Plans for a ring of parking lots.”
“And no plans for relocating the displaced people!”
“What?”
“Look!” Davy handed it to him.
Mike scanned the document quickly. It outlined the destruction of each house, where the rubble was to be hauled, and even showed little diagrams of each house. Three of them had red X’s drawn over them in marker. Wade, Jenkins, Watkins were written under each. “That . . . slimy . . . no good . . . ”
“Bennett’s is next in line,” Peter sighed under the ice.
“No he’s not,” Mike growled. “I bet you anything the mayor don’t know about this.”
“Well, Mike,” Peter said. “Maybe we should tell him.”
“Mike,” Micky and Davy chorused.
Mike looked up. “What?”
“You talk to him,” Davy grinned.
“You’ve got experience,” Micky added.
“Oh ha ha,” Mike said. “I’m going to the mayor’s house now. This can’t wait until morning.”
“I’ll come with—” Peter began, standing up.
“No you won’t,” Mike said. “Sit back down. Right now.”
“But—”
“No arguments.”
“Geesh!” Micky chuckled. “When did he get so stubborn?”
“Since he and Mike started hanging out together,” Davy chuckled as Mike reached the door.
“Davy, watch your back the next time you spar,” Mike winked as he grasped the knob.
The door opened inward with a violent motion, slamming into Mike’s nose and forehead with a dull thud. He stumbled backward, gasping for breath against the forearm that wound tight around his neck. Something cold and round—metal—pressed against his temple, freezing his struggles.
On to Chapter Seven
Back to Chapter Five
Back to Secrets and Lies Index
