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Chapter Eight


Safe, maybe.

Moth ball scented and abandoned since God-knows-when, yes.

Most definitely.

Nick sneezed the moment they walked through the door and dust was stirred up. They were on a porch, not even the actual house yet, and there were cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling that were so big he didn’t wanna imagine the spiders that created them. He rubbed his nose as Avery undid the lock on the front door and they stepped inside to find even more dust. She flipped a light switch and the place kind of hummed a moment before lighting up.

“It’s been awhile,” she said.

“Yeah, I see that,” he said, looking around.

The furniture was covered with sheets of plastic held down by bricks and dust kind of pooled on the plastic covers. There were paint cans on the floor in the breezeway, which had three doors - one, straight ahead, led to the living room, which had a big window that overlooked the lake, which was slowly turning orange from the sunlight. To the left, it led to a kitchen, and the right, a short hall with three doors that he assumed were the bedroom doors. There was no upstairs, and didn’t appear to be a downstairs, either.

Avery walked straight ahead into the illuminated living room, right to the wide window and stared out. The room sort of fanned out; the shape of it reminded Nick of a seashell or something. There were bird turd on the window. “Well, we’ll have to clean up a little,” she said, and she turned, kicking a brick off one corner of plastic, and started rolling the plastic up, revealing really outdated furnishings that would’ve been outdated even the last time the plastic had been off them. In fact, staring at the asparagus green tweed fabric of the couch, Nick was pretty sure the living room hadn’t been not-outdated since about 1974. He sneezed again at the dust the plastic was kicking up. “Maybe more than a little,” Avery admitted.

Nick rubbed his nose, “It’s like the apocalypse in here. I’m pretty sure this exact scene was on The Walking Dead once.”

“Minus the zombies,” Avery said.

At that exact moment, there was a knock on the door.

Nick looked back at the door, his eyes wide, then turned to look back at her.

“Stay out here,” Avery said as she stepped out of the living room, walked up to the door and peeked out the side window. There was a man in a tan and green sheriff’s uniform on the porch, back-to the door, looking at the car. She glanced over her shoulder to be sure Nick was out of view, then pulled the door open slowly, peeking out, her heart racing. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“Avery Montgomery?” the sheriff asked, turning to look at her, his eyes covered with dark sunglasses and the shade of his wide-brimmed, stupid-looking hat.

“Uh huh,” she said slowly.

“It’s me…” he pulled his glasses off, “Billy Tanner.” He grinned real big at her.

“Billy,” she said, surprised, “You’re still here? Damn.”

“More like here again,” he said, “I moved for a piece to go to the Academy. It’s mighty nice to see you, it’s been a fair while.”

“Sure has,” she answered, nodding.

Billy Tanner grinned, leaning against the door frame, and Avery took a step back, holding the door. “So what brings you back to these parts?” he asked.

Avery shrugged, “Just… you know… visiting.”

He nodded slowly, glancing around. Then his eyes lit up as he focused on something past Avery. “Well hello there sir,” he called, “Nice to meet you.” He turned to her, “Were you going to introduce me to your male friend there?”

Avery turned around to see Nick had peeked around the door frame of the living room and been spotted. His face was apologetic as he stepped forward and shook Billy Tanner’s hand. Avery’s stomach knotted itself up and her mind spun into over time. Pressured, she blurted, “Billy, this is -- Chad -- he’s my -- my fiance.” She smiled brightly. “We were coming up to see about -- about fixing the place up to -- to maybe sell it.”

Nick shook Billy’s hand, then glanced at Avery with a fleeting look of confusion before he turned back to Billy with a grin.

“Oh. You’re gettin’ married.” Billy looked let down. “Well. Congratulations,” he added, catching himself. His handshake tightened on Nick, and lasted a couple beats too longer than it should’ve.

Clearly, there’s history here, Nick thought.

“Thank you,” Avery replied. “Now. Did you want something in particular?” she questioned.

He shook his head, “Just checking in. Saw a strange car pull in the driveway. Thought I’d investigate. Make sure the old place was okay.” Billy had perfect teeth except one of the canines was crooked, out too far from the others, giving him a sort of awkward, lop-sided look to his grin.

“Well, it’s just me, so all’s well,” Avery laughed. “I’ll let you get back to your beat.”

“Alright,” Billy agreed, putting his hands on his utility belt importantly. He paused, looking around the porch. “Y’all ain’t really thinkin’ of sellin’ are ya?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

“We need the money for the wedding,” she said quickly.

Nick stared at her, amazed how quickly she’d spun the lie out… also wondering how in the hell she thought he looked like a Chad.

“I’ll check back in on you. How long are you staying?”

Nick raised his eyebrow at Avery with interest. This was a question he was itching to ask, too, because he was pretty positive that the Isle La Motte was going to suck. A lot.

“We aren’t sure,” Avery answered casually. “However long it all takes,” she replied. Which was the most honest answer she could give.

Billy Tanner nodded, “Well. Well okay then. I’ll see you around.” He stepped backward and pushed the screen door open and stepped down into the yard, walking toward his truck, which had a magnetic police logo stuck to the door.

Avery watched until the truck’s tires were kickin’ up dust.

Nick looked at her. “So what’s his story?”

She swallowed and turned back to the house, closing the door, “One of the other summer kids from around here,” she replied. “His grandmother and mine were friends, we were together a lot when we were kids.” Avery shrugged, “Not much else to tell besides that, really.”

“Y’all ever… hook up?” he asked.

Avery pulled the front door open instead of responding and said, “We gotta get the groceries inside.”

Nick grinned and rushed after her, practically dancing foot to foot. “This is all very Nicholas Sparks-y,” he commented, “Like the Notebook only with less douchebaggery.”

Avery rolled her eyes, “Oh stick around, there’s definitely enough douchebaggery to go around in Billy Tanner for the both of us,” she said.

“Funny y’all both became cops, huh?”

Avery nodded, “Yeah.” She pulled open the back door of the car and started stringing grocery bags around her wrist.

Nick frowned, “Wait. If he’s the local police, how come he didn’t know already that we were comin’?” he asked.

“What?” Avery stood up, a bunch of bags strung ‘round her hands.

“Well back in Cincinnati, when Mike asked how he could get in touch with me, you told him through the police department,” Nick said, “And you said that your PD would contact this PD and they could relay messages. So if that’s true, how come that guy didn’t already know we were here?”

Avery thought quick. “It’s a need to know basis,” she said. “The chief here knows, but Billy’s not chief he’s just a pee-on, you know? And he’s not very bright, either,” she added, “So he doesn’t get to know everything. It’s need to know only.”

Nick nodded slowly, letting this information sink in, “Okay,” he said finally. Then, “So how come my name’s gotta be Chad?”

“Because that’s the name I gave you.”

“But… I wanna be something more manly. Chad sounds stupid. Chad sounds like a loser. I wanna be cool. I wanna new name. Like Shaq or Thor or --”

Avery stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

“-- or Bruce Wayne,” Nick finished. He grinned.

“Yeah. No. You’re Chad,” she replied and she carried the groceries toward the house. “Grab the last handful there, Chad?” she called, and disappeared onto the porch.

Nick flipped her off behind her back, then grabbed the rest of the stuff. “I’d make a good Bruce Wayne,” he muttered to himself, “Chad’s a sissy name, I ain’t no sissy.” He shouldered his way onto the porch and was fighting with the knob on the door, carrying the grocery bags on his arms, when he heard Avery shriek inside, followed by the sound of clattering pots and pans. He dropped the bags onto the floor and bolted through the door, his heart pumping adrenaline like nobody’s business.

Maybe it was partly because he’d just been whining about being more manly or something, he wasn’t sure, but he felt like a superhero as he leaped into the kitchen, right over the pile of grocery bags she’d left by the foyer doorway, and looked around for what dangers had alarmed her, ready to fight to protect her. If only he’d had this streak of superheroism at the 7-Eleven, he might’ve been able to keep the whole thing from happening.

Avery stood, back against the stove, staring at the pantry door, clutching her heart.

“What’s wrong, what is it? Who’s ass do I gotta kick?” Nick gasped, looking around.

“Mouse,” Avery choked, pointing a shaking hand at the cupboard.

Nick’s superhero attitude deflated. “Mouse? Where?”

“Shelf, shelf, bottom shelf,” Avery said. She was as far pressed to the opposite wall as the appliances would let her, sliding further away so that she was now leaning against the fridge.

He walked over to the pantry door and bent down, looking at the bottom shelf, and sure enough, looking just as petrified as Avery, was a little mouse. Nick looked around, saw a big soup pot that Avery must’ve dropped, and held it up to the edge of the shelf. He swiped his hand toward the mouse, shooshing it into the pot.

“Oh my fuck, don’t touch it, you asshole!” Avery screamed, seeing Nick reach into the cupboard.

“It’s just a mouse!” he yelled back.

“It could have a fuckin’ disease!”

“It’s not diseased, it’s just hungry,” Nick said, and the mouse scurried around in the bottom of the pot, it’s little feet making scraping sounds against the nonstick surface, and he stood up. “See, look, it’s kinda cute.” He held the pot out to Avery for her to look, and she shrieked again.

“Get that thing away from me!”

Nick laughed, “Jesus,” he shook his head and walked back out the front door and across the lawn to let the mouse go by the woods.

Avery sank onto the floor in the kitchen, tears in her eyes, “Holy shit.” She breathed.

When Nick came back a moment later, carrying an empty pot, she pointed, “Throw that thing away, I’m not cooking using anything that’s had that in it.”

“Just wash it,” Nick said, tossing it into the sink.

“It’s had mouse in it,” Avery answered, “You don’t know where that thing’s been.”

“He’s been in the cupboard,” Nick replied.

“We need mouse traps,” Avery declared. “Those ones with the - the snap.” She made a hand motion like the snap coming down.
“No! That’s inhumane.” Nick looked deeply offended.

Avery made a face, “It’s inhumane for them to be in my pantry!”

Nick shook his head, “You haven’t been here in how long? Of course there’s gonna be mice. The place looks like nature reclaimed it a decade ago. Newsflash, there’s probably spiders big enough to rope and ride’em in here, too, and maybe even a snake or two judging by the grass out there.”

Avery looked sick.

Nick stepped up to the sink, pulling the hose nozzle out to attempt to clean the pot, but when he turned the knob for the faucet water nothing came out. He turned to Avery. “I thought there was running water here?”

Avery struggled to her feet, still wary of the cupboard. “There is,” she answered.

Nick waved his hand at the faucet.

Avery frowned, “I’ll call the water company.”

“Brilliant,” Nick snapped, and he went back out to get the groceries he’d left on the porch as Avery studied the pot. She glanced over her shoulder at him pulling the bags in through the door and snatched the pot out of the sink and put it into the small garbage bin next to the door. It didn’t quite fit so it sat on top at a weird angle. She grabbed the bag closest to her and inched back toward the cupboard, armed with one of Nick’s boxes of Cheerios and gingerly stepped forward to put the box on the shelf, her eyes scanning constantly for other eyes to be staring back.

Nick came back into the kitchen, put the bags down, saw the pot in the trash, made a face, rolled his eyes, and wandered back out into the other room. “So ridiculous,” he muttered as he went.

“What was that?” Avery yelled, her cheeks hot.

“I said it’s ridiculous,” Nick yelled from the other room.

Avery dropped the bag onto the floor and went out to the living room where he was looking around at all the dust. “What’s ridiculous?”

“This. This place. It’s disgusting. You people couldn’t get like a fuckin’ clean place for a safe house? Do y’all know who I am?” He put his hand on his hip, full swing diva style, and stared at Avery. “You’d think being a celebrity and all that I’d get like preferential treatment but instead I’m stuck in the middle of buttfuck no where on earth, in this moth-ball-scented, rodent-ridden, dust-consumed, no-running-water hell hole, with the biggest fuckin’ girl the police force could possibly stick me with.”

Avery’s jaw set.

“Yeah that’s right, I called you a girl,” Nick sneered, “A little girl. Screaming over mice. What the hell good are you gonna be if the fuckin’ gunman shows up? You gonna scream and slam your bad self into the stove then, too?”

“Lots of people are scared of mice, asshole!” Avery yelled.

Nick yelled back, “You have a fuckin’ gun, how are you a’scared of a mouse?!”

“What does having a gun have to do with being afraid of a mouse?” Avery snapped, “What’d you want me to do, shoot it?”

“I just wanna feel like someone’s actually trying to keep me safe,” Nick snapped, “Isn’t that the whole point of the witness protection program? You’re not doing your job very good.”

“Me being afraid of a mouse doesn’t mean I’m not doing my job!” she yelled.

“It does because you’re the biggest pansy on the force, I bet.”

Avery glared. “You’re a fucking asshole,” she snapped and she turned and left the living room, headed back to the kitchen. She couldn’t stand to look at him another minute. She hated him for saying all that, though she didn’t really know why, it’s not like she was really a cop, so his words shouldn’t have stung at all. Who cares if he thought she was a shitty cop? If he really believed she was a cop, no matter how shitty of one, then she was doing her real job just fine. She slammed the grocery bags around, pulling the stuff out of the bags heatedly, her frustration venting by the slamming of food packaging onto the cupboard shelves. As an added bonus, the noise would probably help keep the mice away. At least she hoped it would.