Lies I Told(61)

“Agreed.”

We continued along the fence until we were halfway between the southwest and northwest corners of the house. It was as out of range of the cameras as we were going to get.

“Let’s time,” Parker said softly.

I nodded, and we both watched the cameras as they scanned the property, moving slowly back and forth. After the cameras had made ten full cycles, I looked at Parker.

“I’ve got thirty seconds.”

“Me too.” He looked up at the iron fence. “It’s going to be tight, especially with the fence. Can you do it?”

I thought about it, counting as I imagined pulling myself up and over the top of it, sprinting across the lawn. “I think so.”

“You have to be sure.”

“I’m as sure as I can be,” I hissed.

“Fine,” he said between clenched teeth. “I’m just saying.”

He bent down, making a sling for my foot with his gloved hands. I stepped into it, wobbling a little as he lifted me up into the air. When the top of the fence was within reach, I grabbed on and pulled myself up. Parker’s hand dropped from my foot, and I teetered on the fence for a second before gaining my balance. Once I felt steady, I hoisted one leg, followed by the other, over the top. After that it was a simple drop to the ground.

I stepped aside, looking at Parker through the fence.

He took a few steps back and ran at it, launching himself up high enough to grab onto the top rail. He made swinging over it look easy. He was on the ground in seconds.

“Let’s do it,” he said.

Turning toward the house, I scanned for windows out of range of the cameras.

“That one,” I said, pointing to a window almost midway between the two corners of the house. “Should be the living room.”

He nodded, and we focused on the cameras, watching their slow rotation of the grounds, waiting for them to line up a gap we could run through. After a few cycles, I had it.

“After this next one,” I said quietly, watching. “Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . go.”

We sprinted across the lawn side by side. I kept my eyes on the cameras the whole way, just in case we were off on the timing. But it was about right; the camera on the southwest corner was just swinging back toward us when we reached the house.

We plastered ourselves against the stucco, catching our breath, watching to be sure the living room window we were aiming for wouldn’t have visibility on either of the cameras.

“Looks good,” Parker said. “Let’s go.” He slid a few feet toward the window and pulled out the glass cutter from the holster-style pack on his chest. “Where are the locks?”

“Center.”


He flipped the glass cutter open and made a small circle at the top center of the glass. Pulling a cloth out of his pocket, he held it carefully up to the window, tapping gently. When the circle of glass began to dislodge from the rest of the window, he gave it a thunk with his index finger. It fell way with a tiny pop.

I held my breath. If it survived intact, we could glue it back in on our way out, and it would be a long while before the Fairchilds knew someone had broken in. If the glass fell and broke, the Fairchilds would know they’d had a break-in. We’d take some stuff to make it look like a garden-variety theft, but odds were good that the alarm code would be changed and we’d be back to square one.

I didn’t hear it shatter, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t.

Parker reached a hand through the empty circle, feeling around for the window latch. There was a faint sucking sound as the window released from the weather stripping.

Parker replaced the glass cutter and positioned his hands on the window frame. He looked over, raising his eyebrows. Once he opened the window, the clock would be ticking on the alarm.

I nodded, and he pushed up on the frame.





Forty-Eight


We were up and over the window ledge in less than thirty seconds. It took us twenty more to race to the alarm keypad in the foyer, and I took a few moments to catch my breath, repeating the alarm code I’d memorized before leaving the house. I didn’t want to make a mistake.

When my hands were steady enough, I reached out and punched the keys.

8-3-6-0-1-2

Time seemed to stop as I waited for the red status light to change to green. I didn’t dare move, didn’t dare look at Parker. I was ready to take off running when an almost inaudible beep sounded from the keypad. The light turned green.

I exhaled noisily. “Jesus.”

“Let’s check out the glass before we go to the carriage house,” Parker said.

We made our way back to the living room, using Parker’s penlight to scan the ground for the piece of glass he’d removed from the window.

“Careful where you step,” he warned.

I was beginning to wonder if it had rolled under the desk, or even the sofas near the TV, when I spotted a glimmer on the carpet.

I pointed. “There.”

Parker shone the light in that direction. There it was: an almost perfectly round piece of glass about six inches in diameter.

I picked it up while Parker removed the auto-glass adhesive from the pack. I held the circle up to the flashlight.

“Nice. Not a single crack,” I said. “We got lucky with the carpet.”