The puzzle of Joel’s secrets took a back seat as Javi casually flicked his jacket back to put his hand on his holster.He ducked past Cloister and tried the garage door, a quick, surreptitious tug.
It rattled but held.
Locked.Javi looked over his shoulder at Cloister.He raised an eyebrow.
“Do I need to get in?”he asked.
The question made Cloister narrow his eyes briefly, his attention on Bourneville’s body language as he thought about it.
“Give me a second,” he said and clicked his tongue to get Bourneville’s attention.Her attention stayed glued to the bottom of the garage door, but she acknowledged Cloister with a flick of her ear.“Hier.”
Bourneville huffed her opinion of that, blowing flakes of paint under the door, but did back up.She settled back in at Cloister’s heel, and Javi tossed him the jacket.While Cloister got Bourneville to take the scent again, Javi took a step away from the garage and looked around.
It was ten minutes and three turns from Miles’s house, but it could easily have been the exact same road.The houses were all shades of heathery gray, some greener, some bluer, and the gardens were all neatly kept.Even the occasional playsets erected in the yards had a certain uniformity to them.
Notthishouse, though.
The concrete on the drive was sunken and cracked, with holes big enough that Javi could have dug his fingers into them.The front yard was still, more or less, landscaped to requirements, but there were brown, dried-out patches on the grass and dead plants in the flowerbeds.
Cloister led Bourneville down to the road.He walked a few feet back the way they’d come and put her back on the trail.Javi watched them out of the corner of his eye as he cut along the front of the house to the door.The metal hasp screwed into the door frame was fresh and new, the padlock hooked into it heavy-duty and cutting-edge.It had a biometric fingerprint scanner on it and a QR code sticker that hadn’t even started to fade or peel yet.
Maybe a week old, Javi estimated.Between the sea air and the heat, Plenty was hard on stickers and posters.
Javi hefted the padlock thoughtfully in one hand.The shackle clanked against the metal holding it, and a quick twist revealed it was securely clicked into place.He tightened his hand around it briefly, the edges digging into his palm, and then let it drop.It thumped against the door, heavy and hollow.
Down on the road, Bourneville gave a desultory cast over the sidewalk, then dragged Cloister in a straight line back to the garage door.Her tell as she pawed the door seemed more emphatic than usual, and she turned to give Cloister a “I don’t know what else you want from me” look.
“The trail leads here,” Cloister said.He paused as he looked down at the poorly maintained drive, scuffing his foot over a stain seeped into the surface.“And that’s fresh.”
Javi backed up onto the lawn.“Could be from the realtor,” he said absently as his eyes flicked over the house.No blinds or curtains, but there was still furniture in the house.“Or the bank.”
“Could be,” Cloister agreed.He put his hand against the garage door to test it.“You probably need to get back to work, don’t you?”
Javi glanced at him and then made a point of pretending to check the time.“I’m still on lunch,” he said.“And you’re still suspended.”
Cloister shrugged his opinion of that.He leaned his weight against the garage door and cocked his head to the side.It was a gesture that echoed a familiar one of Bourneville’s.
“Did you hear that?”he said.
“No.”
“Probably because you’re walking away,” Cloister said agreeably.“It sounds like there’s someone inside who needs help from a concerned bystander with a duty of care.”
Javi rolled his eyes and turned away.He understoodwhyCloister was like this—a long-term marinade of survivor’s guilt and a neurotic opposition to self-preservation—but that didn’t make it less concerning.Or pointless to argue with.He walked down to the edge of the garden.Like the house they’d passed earlier, a uniform, unadorned post box was stationed next to the sidewalk.The flag was up, and the hatch barely latched.
There was a scraping, clanking metal noise behind him.He pretended not to hear it as he opened the box and pulled out the house’s uncollected mail.As he flicked through it—HOA fine, final demand from the utilities, an offer for two-for-one pizza—his phone rattled against his side.
He stuck the letters under his elbow and grabbed for the phone to answer the call.
“Agent,” Sue said, her voice thin and irritated.Then she stopped and asked.“What’s thatnoise?”
“What noise?”Javi deadpanned dryly.Not that Sue had the context to get the inside joke.Javi stepped further away from the house and walked that back with a, “Never mind.What’s going on?”
Sue made a small, annoyed sniff, but then moved on briskly.“I’ve got the phone records you asked for,” she said.“But I can’t keep that…discreet…for long.SSA Kincaid is back in the office, and he’s got his fingers in everything.”
“He’s always been hands-on,” Javi said.
Sue snorted.“He’s pulled the toilet paper requisition forms,” she said tartly.“If he’s trying to pull an Eliot Ness on this office, I don’t thinkmyadmin is going to be his in.”
