Strike Force Charlie by Mack Maloney Read Free Book Online Page B

No—she had painted her nails during breakfast and had a definite memory of pushing the living-room switch up with her elbow and finessing the hall light on as well. Maybe then there’d been a power outage?
    She dropped her things and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark. But even after a half-minute or so, she was still blind as a bat. She heard something creak up on the second floor, an area of the house she avoided at all times. Might be the wind, she thought uncomfortably. If there was any wind. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Can this night get any weirder? she wondered. A voice deep inside her replied, Don’t ask … .

    She began creeping down the hallway. The lamp was located on a table to her left. By touch and feel she made it without stubbing her toes. She found the light and tried to switch it on. Nothing. She tried again. Still nothing. Her power outage theory was gaining support. But then she reached up inside the shade … and discovered the lamp’s lightbulb was not there. The socket was empty.
    Her hand instantly went to her ankle holster. Her cell phone wasn’t the only thing she carried here. She came up with a Magnum 440H Specter, a powerful handgun with not an ounce of metal in it. Composite fibers and plain old plastic, it was the first Stealth gun. And Li knew how to use it. That was a requirement for her graduate degree.
    She continued down the hall, a bit flush now with the confidence that comes from a gun. The living-room door was shut tight. She never shut this door. She twisted the knob and toed the door open. The living room was dark inside. The wall switch was to her right. She reached up and pushed it on. Nothing. She reached down to the lamp itself, not bothering to try the switch. She just felt where the lightbulb was supposed to be. It was gone.
    Now her gun was up in front of her, pointing this way and that, just like in the movies. She slipped through the living room, carefully, leading with her weapon as she’d been taught to do at Quantico. Into the bathroom now. No lightbulbs in the ceiling lamp. None in the fixtures over the sink. A huge bar of Ivory soap she always kept here was also gone. She turned, slowly, and opened the shower curtain. The stall was empty, but another bar of soap was missing from here, too.
    She moved out of the bathroom and edged her way through the kitchen. It was even darker here, and she did her best to avoid walking into the breakfast table. She went into the pantry backward, her gun pointing in front of her. She felt around on the top shelf with her free hand. Brushing aside some oatmeal and aluminum foil, she found a bag she always kept up here. Within was her one and only spare lightbulb.
    Back across the kitchen, back through the living room, to
the lamp beside the door. She screwed the bulb into the fixture and tried the switch again. The light came on.
    This startled her. A movement off to her left turned out to be her own reflection in the coatrack mirror. She almost blew it to bits. She caught her breath and looked back at the dimly burning bulb. This was no power outage. Someone was messing with her. But taking her lightbulbs? And her soap?
    Then she looked around the room and noticed something else. The place was clean. Vacuumed. Newspapers picked up. Dinner tray put away. Not a dirty dish in sight. Even her original pencil drawings were stacked neatly. Everything was in order. Everything was in its place. Li was not the best of housekeepers. And this was definitely not the way she’d left it … .
    She killed the light and retreated quickly. Down the hallway. Back to the foyer. Whoever had done this might still be in the house. But she could not simply call the police. Not with her job. This could be some crackheads or vagrants—but it could be something else, too. And the local cops weren’t exactly Scotland Yard. She didn’t want them stumbling into places they shouldn’t