AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And I said steak. Steak works best.”
Shev let it go, and back in Bel Air, Boris’s driver pulled the van to the side of the road. Shev followed Boris off the pavement and into a ravine filled with bay laurel scrub. They slogged through the thorns, each with duffle bags, ascended through the wood, weaving between the white spotted sycamore and eucalyptus with long hanging shreds of ghostly white bark. “Tinder,” thought Boris as they wound toward the property’s highest peak. Back home in Uglich, the woods never burned like they did in LA.
From the top of the hill, they gazed at the doctor’s house below. The orange grove thinned at the base of the hill and dispersed a dozen trees through her yard. The pool sparkled, the sprinklers hummed, and crickets sang, but the houses were dark and seemed asleep.
In the main house, one room was lit, second floor, warm and gold, but neither Boris or Shev saw movement. The driveway was empty except for the Chevy at the bottom by the gate, and the Audi sedan in the open garage. No new car had arrived since they’d left. The sky was unusually clear, dark and cloudless, and a smattering of stars blinked at each other across the expanse.
A nice quiet night and nice quiet place to finish the job.
What could go wrong?
But first, the dog.
CHAPTER 16
IT WOULD BE easy to strangle the blond inside the big house. What was she, forties? What did she weigh, 110, max? Shev would creep in. He’d approach from behind, wrap his elbow around her neck, and put a choke on her carotid artery. In seven seconds, she’d pass out cold, and one minute later, she’d die in his arms. Then they’d be free to take what they wanted and head to the pool house to kill the kid.
The steel box that housed the cables hung on the outer wall near the garage. It was, of course, locked. Normally Boris would jimmy it open or pick the lock, but that would be noisy and the lock would take time. And anyway, now, with some alarms, cut cables alert the service. They had to go in gentle and soft.
Boris led Shev down the hill. Midway, he cut right to get to the house from its west-facing side. They moved from the bushes and made a run.
Shev followed as they hugged the side wall and crept toward the back, toward the patio door, approaching the cameras from behind.
From deep in the house, the dog barked, as they knew it would.
Good boy, thought Boris, come down and get us.
Dr. Parks was asleep in the master bedroom, and Bandit lay sprawled at her feet. He jumped from the bed and beelined downstairs.
The next two minutes, they had to work quickly. Boris pulled a ski mask over his head, crouched below the camera, took a step forward, pivoted back, aimed a paintball gun at the lens, and fired. The paint pellet hit the lens dead center and exploded on the concave glass, obscuring its view.
Boris nodded. His aim was perfect, and this was good. Better than burning out the lens with a laser or cutting the cables. This was old-school, streamlined, clean.
Just as they thought, the dog raced downstairs and entered the kitchen. Shev moved in, crouched at the doggy door, and stretched his arm through it. In his gloved hand he clutched a raw T-bone slathered with stinky nuggets of cheese.
Bandit latched on and whined with relief and anticipation. Shev held tight and pulled the dog right through the plastic flap to the outside mat and his knees.
“Good boy,” he whispered. “Eat up good.”
Boris grabbed the dog by the collar and led him by the steak out to the yard while Shev cocked his head and slid his frame sideways through the flap of the large pet escape. Twenty-three by fourteen inches wide, this was no problem. On his knees, he angled his shoulders, tucked his chin, and shoved himself through. He righted himself to face the floor and plank-slid his torso across the floor.
He was in.
The alarm panel, one of two, sat on the counter next to the fridge. Boris had spotted it through the window earlier that evening.
Shev crossed the kitchen, flipped the panel, and dislodged three double-As from the bottom; the backup battery was now dead. Then he yanked the plug from its socket. He left it all there, moved to the hall, and sailed through the first floor to the front hall where he’d do the same with the second panel.
In the backyard, Bandit swallowed what was left of the meat on the bone. He lay on the grass and got to work gnawing, but then he froze. On a Santa Ana breeze, he picked up a scent.
He lifted his head, hackles raised, rose, and held still. He dropped the bone, nose to the wind, and lurched toward the pool.
Bandit growled as Boris strengthened his grip on the collar. Bandit swung around and snapped at Boris’s face. Boris flinched and Bandit squirmed backward. He nodded and squeezed his head from his collar, backed right out of it, and ran off with a low-pitched bark that echoed up into the doctor’s bedroom.
“Fuck,” muttered Boris. He looked at the one lit room in the house.
Had Shev gone upstairs and dealt with the bitch?
CHAPTER 17
