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"Hell, yeah."
"Then that'll be our criteria from now on. If you'd do it alone, we'll go for it, because with me out of commission, you are alone."
"You're not--" He stopped himself. "All right. Park down the road and let's move."
Not being a spellcaster, Alston was stuck using human security methods. Strategically placed floodlights and cameras, a gated drive, and a dog kennel beside the house suggested he took his privacy seriously. Like door locks, though, they worked best to deter a casual thief, who'd take one look and choose the place next door instead. For someone determined to get in, they posed only inconvenient obstacles.
We breached the gate by sneaking into his less security-conscious neighbor's yard and scaling the fence. That took care of the floodlights and cameras, too--those concentrated on the front, and left gaps elsewhere.
There was no sign of the dog--either the kennel was for show or the pooch was more of a pet, taken inside for the night.
I wished I had my sensing spell, though. Kept wishing it until I tripped over a stone and started wishing instead that I had my light ball. A flashlight--like the one in Adam's hand--would work, too.
We reached one of the side windows. Adam pulled an alarm sensor from his kit.
"It's armed," he said. "You want to handle this?"
"Go ahead."
He glanced over his shoulder at me. "You don't need spells to disarm it."
"I'm good."
His lips compressed and he slapped his tool kit into my hand.
"Disarm the damned window, Savannah."
"Hey!"
"Don't hey me," he said, his whisper harsh. "Remember when you broke your foot riding? Laid on the couch for a week, sulking and making everyone run around for you?"
"Don't talk to me like I'm fifteen, Adam."
"I'm not. When you were fifteen, I let you lie on the couch until you got bored. But you're not fifteen anymore, and you're no more disabled now than you were then."
I scowled.
"Don't scowl at me either," he said. "You've had your sulking time. Either you get back on the damned horse or I take you someplace safe and chase down leads on my own, because if you're not helping, you're dead weight."
I wanted to smack him with an energy bolt. Or at least scream and stamp my feet. Yes, I wasn't feeling very mature right now. Wasn't acting very mature either.
So I disarmed the window. Then I cut out the pane of glass and checked inside for a motion detector. Nothing. I crawled through. Adam followed.
We crouched on the floor, looking and listening. When all stayed quiet, Adam whispered, "Head upstairs. You lead. I'll cover."
In the entry hall, I noticed a glimmer of silver. A dog's leash hung by the front door. I pointed it out to Adam. He cocked his head, listening for a dog, but the house stayed still.
That's when I noticed the deadbolt on the front door. Adam did, too, and let out a quiet curse.
The bolt was unlocked. Beside the door, a security panel flashed. A row of red lights, and one green. Adam shone the flashlight on it.
"Front door's disarmed," he whispered.
Down the hall from us, a door was partly open. I could see papers scattered in the room beyond it.
I started toward it, moving slowly along the hardwood floor, Adam at my back. As I neared the door, I tucked myself against the wall, then sidled along until I could peer through the doorway. Inside was an office. A man sat at a chair, his back to us as he gazed out the window.
I motioned to Adam. He took over, creeping into the office, up behind the man, then--
