Chance (Constance) by Matthew FitzSimmons

Author:Matthew FitzSimmons [FitzSimmons, Matthew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2023-02-14T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Judging by the packages stacked by the front door, Maggie hadn’t been home in days. The house was silent but, more than that, felt abandoned. There was no answer when he rang the bell, and after his third try, the house asked if he’d like to leave a message. Chance declined. He’d tried Maggie’s LFD on his way over and left a message when she didn’t answer the third time. That didn’t mean she wasn’t home. It wasn’t unlike her to draw the curtains and unplug from the world if she needed time to herself. They had that in common.

The side gate was never locked. He went around back in case she was in the garden. All he found was an antique glass ashtray and an empty bottle of wine. She’d quit smoking years ago but would sneak a cigarette when she was stressed out. Judging by the pack’s worth of butts in the ashtray, she’d been in a very bad way. He cupped his hands to the sliding glass door and peered inside. The house was dark and still. As an afterthought, he tried the door, but it was locked. Fussing with it would only set off the alarm.

“What are you doing back here?” a voice from behind him asked.

In the reflection of the glass, he saw a white woman had followed him into the backyard. She was older, perhaps fifty. It looked like a crow had done an angry dance at the corners of her eyes, or maybe she was only squinting to better aim the gun she was pointing at him. It wasn’t big and looked small even in her small hands, but the way she held it told him she’d been to a shooting range more than once. He also got the impression that she’d never pointed a gun at a person before and was more than a little excited that the opportunity had finally presented itself.

“I said, what are you doing?” The woman shook the gun to remind him of the pecking order.

He wanted to answer, but he’d also never had a gun pointed at him before, at least not that he remembered. It wasn’t like in the movies, where people coolly carried on entire conversations like it was nothing. He was one false move away from dying. Really dying. His legs went rubbery with fear.

“I’m not going to tell you again. Turn around.”

He turned slowly and showed her both his palms. In the gloom, he couldn’t tell if her finger was on the trigger or the trigger guard. “I’m a friend of Maggie Soto. She lives here.”

The woman made a face as if he’d told her he’d been a passenger on the Titanic. “She’s not home. So what are you doing in the backyard, Maggie Soto’s friend?”

She stepped forward into enough light for him to place her: the next-door neighbor. He’d seen her in passing lots of times, though they’d never spoken. Her husband was the social half of the couple.

“Haven’t been able to reach her,” Chance said.

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