In the last chapter Ohmie and his dad figured out that Dortch had an off-shore bank account and that he received millions of dollars from either Russia, or Belarus. They baited him to come to their house.

Paul Santos came to the house. He’s a good guy, Mom’s boss. I felt good about him, like he cared. I know Dad and Dale talked on the phone some. I overheard at least one conversation. And the way Dad talked to Mom, I think they would like to go to one of the twins’ baseball games, but not until after… They didn’t say it like that, but after Mom saying that she’d like to go, hers and Dad’s eyes sort of leaned my way. They changed the subject.

A couple days after my posts hit the ether, the netherworld, I asked, “Dad?” As if the idea was novel, I asked, “Could Dale, or Mr. Santos track Dortch’s travel? See if he came back to the states? Tell you where he is?”

“No more than they could when we were in Europe, Ohmie. Dortch uses fake names about as much as I do. And America doesn’t use facial recognition cameras like they have in Europe.”

“Doesn’t the Company keep track of your phony names? Aren’t they who gave them to you?”

“Not all of them.” Dad and Mom exchanged grins and glances.

“And remember, the Company is hands off. It’s my operation.”

“Ours,” I corrected.

“Ours,” he agreed. He and Mom exchanged glances again, sans grins.

We played with the data for two more days before we heard the alarm telling us that someone was at the back fence. Ordinarily, that triggered flood lights. Dad rewired it, making it signal a buzzer on each floor. We didn’t care that the wire ran right there on top of the carpet. It was temporary. And Dad had it taped at the edge where I wouldn’t trip on it. Mom and Dad took positions as if practiced. If I was downstairs, I was to go to their office. If upstairs, I was to stay in my room.

It was three o’clock in the morning. We were up because I got up, done with sleep for the night. My shower woke Dad. We were having coffee in the dark. Why not. We were glad that we did, but the plan was spoiled by the light outside by the backdoor of the garage. It came on with the alarm. Dad must have forgotten about that one.

Mom came into the dining room carrying her Glock after she and Dad were sure that the night’s event was over. I wondered where my Berretta was.

We all looked at the security video. All you could make out was a shape that was probably man-sized. It’s a big back yard, but the system worked. If the flood lights had been wired, we probably could have identified Dortch. But we didn’t want to identify him. We wanted to catch him. Maybe put a couple bullets in him first.

Mom and Dad, after unscrewing the light by the garage door, made sure that they had naps that day. Dad said that if it was him, he would come back the next night with some kind of spring-loaded Jack-in-the-Box gizmo that would trigger an alarm in the front of the house, and a moment later come into the yard from the back. Dad said that we would naturally expect a different route, and not be as well prepared for an attack from the same location.

It was just after eleven when an alarm tripped indicating an intruder at the front gate. Mom watched the front – just in case. Dad was at the back where he could see the back door, as well as the windows in the kitchen and kitchen dinette area. I crept down the stairs and made it into the office. What I worried about was a bomb – worse, an incendiary bomb, one that would blow up and burn. A single shooter who blew up the back door would be ready to shoot whoever came out the front. I know I read too many Clancy type books, but what if he had an RPG – rocket-propelled-grenade launcher? Or a couple of them?

I hated staying in the office. But I knew that if I came out, Mom and Dad’s attention would be diverted, split between me and where they should be paying attention. I get it. Being thirteen sucks. I cracked the door open.

None of us made a sound. I had no idea if Mom or Dad was moving around, or frozen in place. I also had no idea where Dortch was. I suddenly had the idea that I should go out and show myself to him to bait him. If he had me, like Dad said, Dad would do anything. But I have nothing to lose… what, a few more weeks? I had an appointment to see Dr. Hamilton that we might, or might not keep. I do want to see Nurse May, though. So, we might keep the appointment just to let them draw blood and to see her one last time.

But right now, if I stepped out the back door….

Suddenly, the automatic garage door opener activated. Dad, I think, stayed put. I saw a flash go by the office doorway that was probably Mom, positioning herself to watch that entry. I could really help out if I had the Berretta. I could watch the front door where Mom was.

I would have been flattened as the front door crashed down, flat inside the foyer as if the hinges were blown with some sort of detonation device. Dortch was probably in the house, but it was dark, too dark. Like even the TV and electronic device power lights weren’t even on. The garage door – the breaker box was in the garage. The back door blew the same way as the front had. Now, Dortch could be at either door. Or neither. He could come in through the garage where Mom was. I really needed the Berretta. All I had was my phone, so I called 9-1-1 and gave them our address. I don’t think either Mom or Dad factored in blowing the doors down.

Our house is pretty big. Too big for just the three of us. There were a couple walls between the front and the back doors. So you couldn’t guard them both. The entry from the garage into the house was only a hallway from the front entry. With a professional lock pick device, Dortch could be in that door in seconds, and quietly too. That’s why Mom went there, hoping to also detect anyone coming in the front. Dad couldn’t leave the back, the kitchen area.

We just had to wait. I was wishing I hadn’t taken it on myself to call the cops. What if they came with sirens and just scared him off. It would be all this damage for nothing. Maybe the cops would just do a courtesy drive-by. My phone rang. I answered it immediately.

“Hello?”

“No Ma’am. It’s a false alarm. Our power is off is all.”

“No, Ma’am.” I’m home alone. My folks are out, but they’ll be back soon. I just got scared is all.”

“Yes, Ma’am, I opened the garage door for my parents.”

The cops were out front. I told them I would step out and wave if everything was all right. I had no choice. Dortch just had to be in the garage or out back.

I stepped out front. Fortunately, the cops' spotlight saw me, but not the blown-up door. Mom and Dad were probably pretty upset with me.