Something Missing Read Online Free Page B
Author: Matthew Dicks
and 4:00 p.m. (avoiding lunchtime in the event someone decided to come home), he felt sure that his exit was a safe one.
Still, it made him nervous.
Securing his burlap sack inside a black backpack that he had left just inside the door upon arriving, and making sure that his house key was still on the chain around his neck (he had acquired a key to the Pearls’ home years ago, as he had for many of his clients), Martin removed the rubber moccasins that covered his sneakers (and thereby prevented footprints), placed them in the backpack as well, and exited the house, crossing the back lawn as casually as possible. In less than thirty seconds, he was walking across the expanse of field that led to the bicycle racks on the far side of the park.
By the time Martin began pedaling, his appearance had changed dramatically. The blue baseball cap, emblazoned with its Northeast Utilities symbol, and the hairnet underneath had been replaced with a white and red cap declaring his allegiance to the St. Louis Cardinals. Martin, of course, cared little about the sluggers of St. Louis, and had chosen this cap as randomly as he had chosen his mode of transportation for the day. Patterns, he knew, were dangerous in his line of business, and were easy to fall into without even trying. A man who rode through the park on a mountain bike every Tuesday morning, wearing a St. Louis Cardinals baseball cap, might eventually become a fixture in the memory of one of the park’s regular inhabitants. An observant individual might even come to expect to see this mountain bike–riding man each week. Becoming a memorable part of any landscape was exactly what Martin wanted to avoid.
Martin was riding his mountain bike today because of the roll of a 3 that he had made on his ten-sided die over breakfast earlier this morning. Had the die come up a 1 or a 2, Martin would be walking the mile or so to his car. A 3, 4, or 5 placed him on his mountain bike; a 6, 7, or 8 would have had Martin parking his Subaru Outback in the lot adjoining the swimming pool and basketball courts. A 9 or a 0 would’ve had Martin jogging back to his vehicle. Martin had experimented with othermodes of transportation in the past, including Rollerblades, skateboards, and a brief flirtation with the possibility of a motorized wheelchair, but each of these, he’d realized, attracted more attention than necessary, so Martin had decided to stick with the ordinary. Ordinary, at least on the outside, was safest for someone trying to remain inconspicuous.
Had Martin been able to alter his physical stature, he might have shaven an inch off his 5′ 11″ frame, favoring the 5′ 10″ of the average American male. He did, however, make a concerted effort to keep his weight around 180 pounds, the average weight for a white American male aged 30–39 years. In addition to his weight, Martin kept himself clean-shaven at all times and wore no jewelry in hopes of eliminating any distinguishing marks from his person. He was a good-looking man, he knew, but he also knew that he wasn’t too good-looking, and this pleased Martin more than it would most. Excess in appearance was to be avoided at all costs.
Martin’s greatest concern was his ears. Though they were not excessively large, they were positioned on his head at such an angle to appear so, jutting out like the bolts from Frankenstein’s neck. As a child, his classmates had made fun of his ears, referring to Martin as “Dumbo” and “Big Ears,” both names failing to impress Martin even back then. Despite the ineffectiveness of his classmates’ verbal abuse, Martin had tried to readjust his ears so that they would appear more normal. In sixth grade he used superglue to pin his ears to the side of his head, and although the glue held his ears back for more than three days before losing its potency, it failed to permanently alter the orientation of his ears in any discernible way. He tried this method several more times that year
Still, it made him nervous.
Securing his burlap sack inside a black backpack that he had left just inside the door upon arriving, and making sure that his house key was still on the chain around his neck (he had acquired a key to the Pearls’ home years ago, as he had for many of his clients), Martin removed the rubber moccasins that covered his sneakers (and thereby prevented footprints), placed them in the backpack as well, and exited the house, crossing the back lawn as casually as possible. In less than thirty seconds, he was walking across the expanse of field that led to the bicycle racks on the far side of the park.
By the time Martin began pedaling, his appearance had changed dramatically. The blue baseball cap, emblazoned with its Northeast Utilities symbol, and the hairnet underneath had been replaced with a white and red cap declaring his allegiance to the St. Louis Cardinals. Martin, of course, cared little about the sluggers of St. Louis, and had chosen this cap as randomly as he had chosen his mode of transportation for the day. Patterns, he knew, were dangerous in his line of business, and were easy to fall into without even trying. A man who rode through the park on a mountain bike every Tuesday morning, wearing a St. Louis Cardinals baseball cap, might eventually become a fixture in the memory of one of the park’s regular inhabitants. An observant individual might even come to expect to see this mountain bike–riding man each week. Becoming a memorable part of any landscape was exactly what Martin wanted to avoid.
Martin was riding his mountain bike today because of the roll of a 3 that he had made on his ten-sided die over breakfast earlier this morning. Had the die come up a 1 or a 2, Martin would be walking the mile or so to his car. A 3, 4, or 5 placed him on his mountain bike; a 6, 7, or 8 would have had Martin parking his Subaru Outback in the lot adjoining the swimming pool and basketball courts. A 9 or a 0 would’ve had Martin jogging back to his vehicle. Martin had experimented with othermodes of transportation in the past, including Rollerblades, skateboards, and a brief flirtation with the possibility of a motorized wheelchair, but each of these, he’d realized, attracted more attention than necessary, so Martin had decided to stick with the ordinary. Ordinary, at least on the outside, was safest for someone trying to remain inconspicuous.
Had Martin been able to alter his physical stature, he might have shaven an inch off his 5′ 11″ frame, favoring the 5′ 10″ of the average American male. He did, however, make a concerted effort to keep his weight around 180 pounds, the average weight for a white American male aged 30–39 years. In addition to his weight, Martin kept himself clean-shaven at all times and wore no jewelry in hopes of eliminating any distinguishing marks from his person. He was a good-looking man, he knew, but he also knew that he wasn’t too good-looking, and this pleased Martin more than it would most. Excess in appearance was to be avoided at all costs.
Martin’s greatest concern was his ears. Though they were not excessively large, they were positioned on his head at such an angle to appear so, jutting out like the bolts from Frankenstein’s neck. As a child, his classmates had made fun of his ears, referring to Martin as “Dumbo” and “Big Ears,” both names failing to impress Martin even back then. Despite the ineffectiveness of his classmates’ verbal abuse, Martin had tried to readjust his ears so that they would appear more normal. In sixth grade he used superglue to pin his ears to the side of his head, and although the glue held his ears back for more than three days before losing its potency, it failed to permanently alter the orientation of his ears in any discernible way. He tried this method several more times that year
Readers choose
Michael Bond
Lilith Saintcrow
Rolynn Anderson
Jessa L. Gilbert
Adam Langer
Gaie Sebold
Delilah Devlin
Ann Cleeves
Marc Secchia