“Bitch has almost no food in the fucking fridge.”
He crossed in front of the hallway in the living room and she saw that he was tossing up and down one of the apples she had put in the refrigerator, making the slapping sound as he caught it. She had to think. If the redhead was in constant communication with his partner, she had to figure out a way to take him down without the partner realizing and possibly fleeing.
She wanted them both.
The footsteps grew louder and she knew he was heading to the hallway. She quickly and quietly moved to the blind side of the file cabinet and slid down the wall to a crouching position. She held the gun in a two-handed grip between her knees.
The steps paused and the overhead lights flicked on. Then the man spoke again.
“We’ve got a home office. Double monitors. Man, she doin’ some bidness up in here, y’all … Might need to take one of these for my own setup.”
The lights went out and the steps continued down the hallway. Ballard heard the man report what he saw in the hall bathroom, the guest room, and then the master suite. Their MO had obviously changed, possibly because of the exposure in the media, or dictated by Stovall’s stay-at-home schedule. Either way, the break-in came much earlier than in the three prior cases. She knew that this most likely meant they would not wait several hours in hiding, until Stovall went to sleep. Ballard believed the plan was now to move quickly, incapacitate and control Stovall, and then bring in the second man. The master suite was probably out as a hiding place, because that would be where Stovall went after her walk. That left the spare bedroom, the office, and the hall bathroom. Ballard believed the office was the best bet. The desk was set against one wall and the closet was directly opposite, meaning that if Stovall sat at her desk, her back would be to the closet door. The redhead would be able to surprise her from behind — if she went back to work after returning to the house.
Ballard waited, rehearsing in her mind the moves she would make when he returned to the office. One move if he saw her, and one move if he walked by without noticing her on his way to check out the closet.
“Hey, dude, she’s got a safe room in her damn closet. The guy didn’t tell us about that.”
There was silence while Ballard considered what that second sentence meant.
“Okay, okay, I’m looking. You said there was no sign of her yet.”
Silence.
“All right, then.”
The words almost made Ballard flinch. They were closer. The redhead was coming back to the office.
“I’m thinking the office is going to be the spot.”
As he said it, he entered the room, and the ceiling lights came back on. He passed by the file cabinet without noticing Ballard and moved directly to the closet. Ballard didn’t hesitate. She sprang from her crouch and moved toward his back. He was opening the closet door as she reached up to his right ear and grabbed the earbud out. At the same time she brought the gun up with her left and held the muzzle against the base of his skull. Holding the earbud cupped tightly in her palm, she whispered, “You want to live, don’t say a fucking word.”
Ballard put the earbud in her pocket, grabbed the man by the back of the collar, and jerked him backward, holding the gun against him the whole time and continuing to whisper.
“Down, get on your knees.”
He did so and now was holding his hands up shoulder height to show his compliance. Ballard pulled the phone out of the man’s armband. The screen showed a call connection to someone only identified as Stewart. Ballard put the phone on speaker.
“ … happened? Hey, you there?”
She hit the mute button, then held the phone to the man’s face.
“Now, I’m going to take this off mute and you’re going to tell him that everything’s fine and that you just tripped over a box in the closet. You got that? You say anything else and it will be the last thing you ever say.”
“What are you, a cop?”
Ballard thumbed back the hammer on the gun. Its distinctive click sent the message.
“Okay, okay. I’ll tell him, I’ll tell him.”
“Go.”
She took the phone off mute and held it to the man’s mouth.
“Sorry, dude, I tripped. There’s boxes and shit in here.”
“You okay, Bri?”
“Yeah, just fucked up my knee a little bit. Everything’s copacetic.”
“You sure?”
Ballard hit mute.
“Tell him you’re sure,” she said. “And tell him to keep watching for the woman. Go.”
She took it off mute.
“I’m sure. Just tell me when you see her.”
“All right, man.”
Ballard hit mute again and put the phone down on the desk.
“Okay, hold still.”
With one hand holding the gun to his head, Ballard reached around to the fanny pack and felt for a buckle but came up empty.
“Okay, one hand, reach down and take off the pack.”
The man reached with his right hand. Ballard heard a snap and then his hand came back up holding the pack by its strap.
“Just drop it on the floor.”
The man complied. Ballard then used her free hand to frisk him and check the pockets of the coveralls. She found nothing.
“Okay, I want you to get facedown on the floor. Now.”
Again he complied but under protest.
“Who the fuck are you?” he said as he went down.
“Lie flat and don’t talk unless I ask you to. You understand?”
He said nothing. Ballard pushed the muzzle further into the back of his neck.
“Hey, do you understand?”
“Yeah, take it easy, I understand.”
He lowered himself to the floor and she held the gun on his neck all the way down, then put one knee on his back.
She realized that her handcuffs were in her equipment kit in her car, where she had put them while off duty and heading out to see Garrett. Add one more flaw to her plan.
She reached over to the fanny pack the redhead had just dropped to the floor.
“Let’s see what you’ve got in here,” she said.
She put the pack down on his back and unzipped it. It contained a roll of duct tape, a folding knife, and a premade, duct-tape blindfold on a peel-off backing that had been intended for Hannah Stovall. There was a strip of condoms and a garage remote.
“Looks like you have a full rape kit here, huh, Bri?” she said. “Can I call you Bri like your partner did?”
The man on the floor didn’t respond.
“Okay if I use some of your tape?” Ballard asked.
Again there was no answer.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ballard said.
After putting the gun down on the man’s back, she pulled his hands together and wrapped the duct tape around his wrists, unspooling it from the roll as she went. She could feel him trying to keep his wrists parted.
“Stop fighting it,” she commanded.
“I’m not fighting it,” he yelled into the floor. “I can’t get them together.”
Ballard thumbed open the knife’s blade and cut the tape. She then grabbed the gun and stood up. She put the tape and the knife on the desk and then reached down and roughly yanked the ski mask off the top of his head, bouncing his face on the floor and releasing a torrent of red hair.
“Goddammit! That cut my lip.”
“That’s the least of your problems.”
Ballard reached down and picked up the garage opener. She recognized it as a programmable remote like the one she had been given by her apartment landlord. He had told her that once a year the HOA changed the code as a security measure and he would provide her with the new combination to install. She now understood how the Midnight Men got into each victim’s home.
“Who gave you the garage code?” she asked.
She got no answer.
“That’s okay. We’ll find out.”
She stepped back from him, moving to the side.
“Turn your head, show me your face.”
He did. She saw a small amount of blood on his lips. He looked young, no more than twenty-five.
“What’s your full name?”
“I’m not telling you my name. You want to arrest me, arrest me. I broke in, big deal. Book me, and we’ll see what happens.”
“Bad news, kid. I’m not a cop and I’m not here to book you.”