Because I’m pretty sure he’s up to no good.
What, exactly, remains to be seen...
Chapter Eleven
At 9 p.m. that night, Mary Lou plunks down two glasses of white wine onto my dining room table and slides into the chair opposite me.
“Okay, spill,” she says, eyes sparkling. “Not the wine. What’s got your face all pinched up like a bad Botox job? And why can’t you leave your computer for even a few minutes?”
I snort, swirling the wine. And yes, all while me keeping my eye on the feed from Mark’s front yard. I tell her why as I sip from the wine.
“Oh, I see. You get one more crazy case and suddenly, you cancel your plans with me all week.”
“I canceled dinner and drinks. Hardly an all-week thing.”
“In college I had week-long benders,” she says.
I snort. “You? When?”
“I let loose, Sam. You aren’t the only one who’s lived.” She points to my laptop. “And what are you waiting and/or looking for, exactly?”
“I’m not sure. I just need to break into a place.”
“The house on the feed?”
“Yeah, that place.”
“What’s stopping you from, you know, just teleporting in there?”
“The resident is immortal. I won’t be able to control him without a fight.”
“What kind of immortal? Werewolf? Were-bunny?”
“That’s the thing. I’m not sure. He’s obsessed with dinosaurs.”
“Oh, crap.”
“Oh, crap is right.”
“A were-dino?”
“Maybe, I don’t know. He’s something, and I need to know what he’s up to.”
“A dinosaur can do some serious damage.”
“I know.”
“So, you just want to poke around his place and you’re waiting for him to leave?”
“That about sums it up.”
“And you set up a spy camera across the street to keep an eye on him?”
“Yes.”
“You’re being careful with this one.”
“He’s an unknown. That. And he has security everywhere.”
