Page 44 of In the Dead of Night

CHAPTER ELEVEN

By ten o’clock the next morning, Nick and Sara had arrived in San Francisco, rented a car and were heading north on Hwy 101 toward the exclusive Sea Cliff neighborhood where Blaine Stocker and his wife lived.

Having resided in California her entire life, Sara had seen some lovely homes. But when they turned onto 25th Avenue and the Stocker estate loomed into view, the stunning beauty of it took her breath away.

Lush sago palms, eight-foot-high stucco walls and scrolled iron gates shrouded the sprawling Mediterranean-style mansion. As Nick stopped at the security gate, Sara could see past the mansion to the deep-blue water of the bay and, beyond, the span of the Golden Gate Bridge.

“What do we tell security?” she asked, worried by the possibility that they’d traveled this far only to be turned away.

“I’ll think of something,” Nick said and hit the intercom button.

A tinny voice came over the line. “May I help you?”

“This is Officer Nick Tyson with the Cape Darkwood PD. I’m here to see Blaine Stocker.”

“I don’t see your name on the appointment list.”

“I’m not on the list.” Nick paused. “You a cop?”

“Former,” the voice said, with a little too much pride.

“SFPD?”

“Mark Lewinski. LAPD. Sixteen years.”

“In that case, Mr. Lewinski, I suggest you check my credentials, pronto, unless you want me to come back with a warrant and an army of officers who will be happy to tear this place apart and cart your ass off to the station for a few hours.” He lowered his voice. “Just between you and me, I’d rather do this the easy way.”

Silence reigned for perhaps a full minute, then Lewinski said. “I’ll call your department and get right back to you.”

“Fair enough.”

Leaning back, he set his hands on the wheel and gave her a smile.

“Effective,” she said.

“It’s that cop brotherhood thing. Works every time.”

Still, Sara couldn’t help but worry. Even if they got in, would Stocker speak to them?

The gate jolted and groaned open. “Drive around and park beneath the portico at the front of the house,” came the tinny voice.

“Roger that,” Nick said and drove through the gate.

The house was set into a hill and surrounded with verdant trees. The creamy stucco contrasted nicely with the barrel-tile roof. It was one of the most spectacular homes Sara had ever seen.

Nick parked and shut down the engine. A middle-aged man in a charcoal suit approached from the front door, ducked slightly to make eye contact with both of them, then opened Nick’s door.

“Welcome to the Stocker estate.” It was the man from the intercom. “I’m Lewinski, head of security.”

Nick slid from the car. “Thanks for making this easy for all of us.”

“What’s this about?”

“I’d rather discuss that with Mr. Stocker first.”

Lewinski sneered.

Sara got out of the car and met the two men as they stood near the driver’s-side door. Lewinski frowned at her when she approached.