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“He’s got a lot of nerve,” Lula said. “He’s got that big-ass car parked right out front, advertising that he’s home.”
“The Superman syndrome,” I said. “Thinks he’s invincible.”
“Just because he made fools out of us the first time, he thinks he can always make fools out of us.”
“Let’s hope he’s wrong.”
I parked in the driveway, behind the Escalade, so he couldn’t drive off. Lula and I went to the front door. I rang the bell. No one answered.
“Maybe he’s out with his mama,” Lula said. “They could be in her car.”
I rang the bell again. “I don’t think so. I think he’s in the house.”
I tried the doorknob. Locked.
“What are we thinking here?” Lula asked. “You want me to shoot the lock off?”
“Do you know how to do that?”
“Sure. You shoot at the lock and it falls off.”
“Let’s save that as a last resort. I’ll go around back. Stay here. And don’t shoot anything.”
I jogged to the back of the house and tried the back door. Locked. I looked in the kitchen window. Everything was tidy. Lula walked into the kitchen and opened the door for me.
“How did you get in?” I asked.
“The window was open. The o
ne next to the door.”
“I don’t remember seeing an open window.”
“It wasn’t actually open.”
“It was unlocked?”
“More like it had a crack in it,” Lula said.
“A crack? How big was the crack?”
“Big enough that I could get my hand in and open the window.”
“You broke a window.”
“It was an accident. I sort of turned around too fast and my purse swung out and CRASH! Anyways, now that we’re in we might as well snoop around, although I didn’t see any sign of him on my way through the house.”
A mug of tea was sitting on the kitchen counter. The tea bag was still in it. I put my hand to it, and the mug was warm.
“He’s here,” I said. “He’s hiding.”
“I’m good at this. I can find people like you wouldn’t believe. I used to play hide-and-seek all the time when I was a kid. I was the hide-and-seek champion.”
We started in the kitchen, opening every door, looking in cupboards. We moved on to the dining room and the living room. Downstairs powder room. We went upstairs and looked under beds, in closets, bathroom cupboards. Nothing. No Carol Joyce.
“I gotta give him credit,” Lula said. “He’s a good hider.”
I looked down at the street from an upstairs bedroom window. The Buick was blocking one lane. The Escalade was gone.
