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It gave him a rush, always gave him a rush, to squeeze death out of life.
Though her eyes wheeled, her heels drummed, she never came fully around.
He left her and the broken laptop on the floor.
Adjusting, he hunted through the kitchen, found a trash bag. He loaded it with Nina’s laptop, her phone, some jewelry he didn’t judge as worth the pawning, found a hundred and fifty-eight dollars between her purse and her underwear drawer.
He went through Morgan’s room. She actually owned a couple decent pieces of jewelry. Diamond studs—small, but good color and cut—a gold locket—looked old, probably a family piece. He tossed in some of the crap jewelry with it.
He thought waste not, want not as he loaded up.
Marks always squirreled some cash in the house. He found Morgan’s—five twenties—rolled in a pair of athletic socks.
He grabbed her keys from the bowl by the front door, then went out the way he’d come in.
He used his elbow to break one of the panes of glass on the back door.
Daylight B and E gone bad, gone tragic—that’s how it would look.
Too bad, so sad.
He unlocked the car with the fob, tossed the goodie bag in the back.
He backed out of the drive and drove in the opposite direction of the city center. Humming along with Billie Eilish’s cover of “Yesterday,” he drove toward Baltimore.
A shower hit just as Morgan started to leave work. She checked the radar on her phone. A quick one, heading west.
She opted to wait it out and texted Nina to say so and ask if she wanted in on some Chinese takeout.
The lack of response made her frown.
“Lingering cold, maybe,” she murmured as she watched the rain. “Post-work nap.” She ordered some extra noodles and sweet and sour shrimp just in case.
Fifteen minutes later, she headed out in the damp air under sunny skies. She stopped for the takeout, secured it and her purse in the basket.
She expected a fairly quiet night at the Round, as Wednesday tended to be slower. They hadn’t opened the outdoor seating area yet, but soon would.
When she got her place, she wanted a full patio area with a pergola, and she’d have heaters so customers could use it except in the coldest or rainiest of weather.
More seating, more sales, more profit.
When she didn’t see her car in the driveway, her heart jumped. Then she realized Nina must have needed to go somewhere. Maybe more NyQuil.
Still, she always asked.
She went inside, nodded when she saw the empty key bowl. She hung up her jacket, stowed her purse, then detoured to Nina’s room.
Definitely came home and went out again, she decided. The tissue box was back on the bed.
More tea and honey, she thought, and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on and stow the takeout.
She froze, simply froze when she saw the broken pane in the door, the shards of glass on the floor.
She backed up, breath already catching as she fumbled out the phone in her pocket. Her brain wouldn’t function beyond nine-one-one.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
“A break-in, a break-in. The kitchen door.”
