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A man who pays attention to every detail.

He knew I'd been hanging around his property. He'd even said he installed cameras yesterday.

And suddenly, that conveniently unlocked window doesn't seem like luck at all.

“The window,” I say slowly.

“What about it?”

“You left it unlocked.”

“Did I?”

“Oh, don't you dare.”

He leans back.

“Wanted to see what you'd do.”

I stare at him.

“You knew I was coming back, and you left that window open for me?”

“I didn't make you climb through it.”

The audacity.

The absolute, breathtaking audacity.

“You could've just asked what I wanted!”

“Would you have told me?”

I open my mouth.

Close it.

Damn him.

He looks far too pleased with himself.

“That's what I thought.”

I take another bite of my sandwich.

Mostly to avoid saying something that might result in a second criminal charge.

Then he reaches for his glass, and the collar of his shirt shifts near one shoulder.

A patch of damaged skin shows beneath the fabric.

I remember the articles describing the injuries he sustained during the fire.

“Is that a burn scar?”

His smile disappears.

He follows my gaze.