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“How about Hess?”
“I saw him go in. He was carrying his gym bag.”
Cooper stood on the steps for a moment, then said, “It’s now or never.”
—
Fatima had thebaby; they could hear her crooning softly in Spanish, a soothing, quiet song. Pelz had been well paid, with a bonus, and told he was no longer needed. They had a gun, they had locks, they doubted the man would come back again after nearlybeing killed. He disagreed, but they thanked him and sent him on his way.
Now Cooper shut the door, cutting off the sound of Fatima’s singing. She had a leather tote bag over her shoulder, containing the largest screwdriver from Alex Sand’s tool chest, four smaller screwdrivers, two flat-blade and two Phillips, a claw hammer, a flat pry bar, two black Covid masks, and vinyl kitchen gloves. If they were stopped by cops... she didn’t want to think about it.
They’d made a half-dozen trips past the Davern Street intersection with the railroad tracks and had spotted a likely place to leave the car, a block away. They were both dressed in navy tracksuits and running shoes, a possible alibi if stopped. That would work only if they’d ditched the tools, but it might save them, too, so they went with it.
They’d talked about the burglary a half-dozen times during the day, back and forth, back and forth: now, on the way to Hess’s house, they barely spoke. The drive took only ten minutes, and the car-park space was empty. Melton pulled in, asked “Your phone’s off?”
“Yes”
“Give me a kiss.”
They shared a quick kiss, got out of the car, locked it, and jogged, slowly, looking around, to the tracks. The only sound was that of cars passing on West Seventh Street, a couple of blocks away. At the tracks, they took a last look around. The tracks were edged by a thick line of trees, and after miming two women taking a break from a long run—bent over, hands on knees, watching, listening—they stepped back into the brush.
And waited some more. Three minutes, four minutes, and Cooper said, “Go!”
They walked along the tree line, having agreed beforehand that they’d move slow, watching for movement in the trees or on the other side of the tracks. When they were behind Hess’s house, they stopped, squatted, and listened again.
“I’m scared,” Melton whispered.
“So am I.”
“I don’t hear anything...”
Slow, slow, slow, moving from tree to tree, walking toe-down, trying to get through the underbrush and fallen leaves as silently as possible. The night was crisp, not quite cold, but not a night when windows and doors would be open. Hess’s house had a tiny backyard, more dirt than grass, with a concrete patio extending out from the house. They moved on, the only light coming from windows in adjacent houses, the windows covered with shades and blinds.
The house had a side entrance, and also sliding glass doors that led out to the patio. Cooper whispered, “Try the glass doors. Put the gloves on.”
They took the gloves from Cooper’s bag, pulled them on. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
They crossed the lawn, still moving slowly. At the sliding doors, Cooper put her hands against the glass of one of the doors and pushed. It moved, but only an inch, then hit an obstruction with a quietthud. They’d agreed not to take a light with them, because they might be tempted to use it, so they couldn’t see the obstruction.
Cooper muttered, “Shit,” gave the glass another push, but it didn’t move at all. She stepped over to the next door and pushed. It slid two inches and stopped with anotherthud.
Melton took hold of Cooper’s shoulder and pulled her close, put her mouth next to Cooper’s ear and whispered, “I think there’s a piece of wood in the door track. You know how that works...”
“Yes. Let me see if I can get my hand inside.”
The space between the edge of the door and the wall was no more than two inches wide, but Cooper’s hand slipped through. With her other hand, she passed the long screwdriver through, and using her fingers to hold it, pushed the blade along the interior track until she hit the obstruction.
“It’s wood, all right,” she whispered. She tried to slip the wood out of the track, but it fell back inside. She tried again, the same result. And again, and this time, it stayed out. “Push the glass.”
Melton pushed, and the door slid open a foot. She gave it a harder push, and it opened another four or five inches, and they were in. They stopped, pushed the sliding door closed.
The house was dark and absolutely silent. Groping across what must have once been the living room, Melton nearly tripped over something she couldn’t see, a dumbbell. She caught herself and they went on toward the front of the house. Cooper unlocked the front door to give themselves an alternative way out, then stepped over to a window, slipped a finger between two curtains and looked out at the street. A car rolled by; just one. Then quiet.
One of the YouTube burglary videos warned against using a flashlight once inside a dark house: nothing catches the eye like a flashlight on a curtain, the black-turtlenecked “security advisor” warned. He’d also warned that he wasn’t teaching burglary, he was teaching defenses against burglars, to which Melton had said, looking at the video screen, “You big fat liar.”
“Gonna do the lights,” Cooper said.
