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As she set the phone back down on the end table, a small motion caught her eye. A tiny crack of light on the ceiling. But not normal light—just as she noticed it, it disappeared, then reappeared. From the angle, it must’ve been coming through—
Her heart sank as she turned slowly around.
CHAPTERFIFTY-NINE
The longest part of the entire plan was getting to knowher,so I could gain access to the house.
After a couple of weeks of watching, I spotted an entry point—her grocery deliveries. Thankfully, delivery people have a hard job, and they’re more than willing to believe whatever you say if it means they don’t have to carry heavy bags up a long driveway to their target house.
The first time, after setting the bags on the porch, I rang the doorbell before I stepped back. When she came to the door, angry at having been disturbed, I put on a confused, flustered face—even managed to tear up—and apologized profusely.
“I’m so sorry, I’m new, and I think I messed up. I think I may have mixed up the orders. I”—I made a point of looking at her and looking away before continuing—“I was going to ask if you could make sure this was yours because I didn’t want to put my hands all over it. But never mind, I don’t want to make you—”
She smiled empathetically at me. “Oh, that’s fine, we all make mistakes. You go ahead and check for me.”
I pulled open the first bag and listed off several of the items.
“Yes, those are mine. But since you’re here, would you mind bringing them in? I know it’s not your job, but—”
I’d expected to have to work harder than that, but was more than happy to take a shortcut when it presented itself. “Oh, sure, of course, I’d be happy to! That’ll make up for disturbing you.” I picked the bags back up and brought them through to her kitchen.
“Thank you so much, you’re a dear,” she said. “Is it too late to put an extra tip in the app for you?”
I insisted that wasn’t necessary, of course, and again played up my ‘mistake.’ And sure enough, when I intercepted the groceries the following week, she was full of smiles to see me. Everything was a breeze from there: learning the layout of the house, stealing her spare keys when she wasn’t looking, returning them the week after so she wouldn’t notice they were gone.
When I thought of her helpless, drugged, and bound and gagged, I winced. She was a kind woman, and she had nothing to do with any of this.
But I didn’t have any control over that. Only Detective Arnett did.
CHAPTERSIXTY
A sickeningly familiar glow flickered on and off the guest bedroom’s curtain.
This must be the distraction they’d been waiting for. A heightened, sharp calm took over Jo as she shifted into action. Maintaining a low stance, she unholstered her Beretta and flattened herself against the wall. She lifted her gun, then pulled back the corner of the curtain.
The only thing visible was the exterior wall of the house extending away from her—but the red-orange glow flicked along it, as well. A reflection—but from where?
Her phone chimed again. She glanced at the table and read the text from Goran:
House on fire. Get out, now.
The first tang of smoke hit her nose as she bolted from the room. “Bob! The house is on fire!”
Arnett appeared in the hallway, weapon pointed at the ground. “Which direction?”
Jo pointed back toward the guestroom. “That side, for sure.”
He started toward the staircase. “Front door then. I hope to hell Goran and Coyne have us covered.”
“Me first.” She stepped in front of him, not giving him a choice. With measured, steps, she hurried to the bottom of the staircase, trying to ignore the blood pounding in her ears. Ducking to check behind the large leather sofa, she surveyed the room. “Den clear.”
As Arnett approached behind her, she swerved to check access from the kitchen. “Kitchen clear.”
She continued into the downstairs hall, then approached the side of the doorway, leading with her weapon. “Clear. She must be waiting outside.”
Heavy hands pounded the front door. “Jo! Bob!” Goran’s heavy voice called.
“Coming out,” Arnett called back. He unlocked the door, and swung it open.
