Free Operation Mockingbird by Linda Baletsa Page A

of his head. There was no blood, but he knew he would have a good size lump the following morning. He staggered slowly into the living room and sat down on the edge of the coffee table, taking another close look around. A laptop bag sat open on the desk in the corner of the living room, but the laptop that would usually be found sitting in the center of the desk was gone. Clearly, Matt had interrupted a burglary in progress. But it was good that there was no sign of Stephen. Apparently, he hadn’t been here when the burglary went down. Matt had been the one unlucky enough to walk in on it. Which still left the question
Where the hell was Stephen?
    Matt looked around the room carefully, picking up pieces of paper from the floor, going into the desk drawers, searching everywhere for some clue, something that Stephen might have been working on that would show where he’d gone or what he was doing. He found nothing.
    He looked down at his watch and squinted as the watch face came in to focus. He needed to leave soon if he wanted to catch that train to Maryland to see Marie Sandberg. Matt walked around the living room, surveying it one last time. He was debating whether to call the police and report a breaking and entering or, possibly, a missing person. But who had done the breaking and entering? Matt who coaxed a key out of a gullible neighbor to break into Stephen’s apartment or some cranked-out crack head looking for anything of value that could be used to score their next high? Surely the latter but from the police’s perspective, Matt was as guilty of trespassing as the burglars were of breaking and entering. Either way, it wouldn’t matter. Stephen’s place was still trashed, his valuables -- to the extent he had any -- were gone. Matt shrugged his shoulders in frustration.
    He turned to Stephen’s desk and grabbed a pen from the open drawer. He picked up a sheet of paper from the floor and wrote a quick note to his old friend. “Stephen, sorry about the mess. Obviously, not my doing. Just happened by at the wrong time. Call me! Matt.” He threw the pen on to the desk and ran out the door to catch his train.

CHAPTER NINE
    MATT WALKED UP the front path toward the white two-story house. A 50-foot oak tree extended its long limbs over the expansive front lawn. A toddler-sized double swing hung securely from one of the immense branches and swayed in the late afternoon breeze. Underneath the other side of the tree were two weather-worn Adirondack chairs that were currently catching leaves. The flowerbeds lining the walkway leading up to the front door were overgrown with brown stems and wayward weeds. The hunter green shutters framing the windows on the first and second floors could use a coat of paint. The flower boxes suspended below the windows on the first floor were empty.
    A woman Matt assumed was Marie’s sister answered the door.
    “Hi,” Matt said. “I’m Matt Connelly.”
    “What do you want?” Her greeting sent a chill through the air.
    She couldn’t have weighed more than one hundred pounds and stood only slightly more than five feet tall. Despite her size, she was a formidable looking woman with short silver hair, piercing eyes and a stern mouth.
    “I’m a friend of the family. Marie asked me to come.”
    The woman didn’t respond. She simply stood there seeming to consider turning Matt away.
    “Tina?” Matt finally heard Marie call from somewhere inside the house. “I thought I heard ...”
    Matt saw Marie turn the corner and stand behind her sister. She looked directly at Matt and he saw the recognition register in her eyes.
    “Matt,” Marie said smiling weakly. “It’s so good to see you. Please come in.”
    When she saw the sentinel at the door was blocking his way, Marie reached awkwardly past her sister and took Matt’s arm. The other woman glared at Matt as he squeezed past her and through the front door.
    Marie led the way through the foyer and into the living room. As they