Cool fingers danced down my spine. I was extremely alone up here. I hadn’t seen a soul, not even a sign of one. Shouldn’t there be staff milling around? Sarah had said she’d made the arrangements with some kind of assistant, but that was all I got from her before she had to hang up for her ornery boss.
Finally, I walked around to the front of the house, reaching for my phone to call her as I mounted the front steps. But just as I got the thing in my hand, the front door—a giantslab of artfully rusted metal that perfectly matched the fountain—swung open.
For a moment, I stood still, worried I’d triggered some kind of trap.
Ridiculous. But I didn’t trust this echelon of humanity one bit.
The door had opened into an empty foyer with glossy concrete floors and trimless white walls. A colorful abstract painting bigger than Flo dominated the one opposite where I stood. But I was still alone.
I squared my shoulders against the urge to turn around. “Hello?” I called again.
“Hello, Winona.”
I startled. But I recognized the computer woman’s voice. Anita.
“Please come in,” Anita said.
Unlike back at the driveway, I couldn’t see Anita’s face anywhere. But her voice came from…everywhere, in perfect surround sound. Anita, I realized, was the house itself. I swallowed as I had a vision of my brother Ryan’s favorite movie, the old classicTerminator, where technology becomes sentient. And violent.
“For the love of—” I forced myself to step inside.
“This way,” Anita said, her voice projecting to my right.
I was so low-tech I didn’t even own an e-reader. I only had a cellphone for my business. Yet here I was following a robot into—I sucked in a breath as I rounded the corner—into a proper, honest-to-God mansion.
Three stairs led down to a massive living room, where rich brown leather furniture sat around an enormous gas fireplace. To my left, a granite kitchen bigger than my whole house gleamed. But what really took my breath away was the far wall. It was all glass, stretching so high up I couldn’t see the top from under the entryway ceiling, revealing aninfinity pool, pool house, and sweeping views of the Quince Valley beyond. The views were incredible. But my trade brain reeled. How’d they haul a single piece of glass that size up here?And why did it feel like no one actuallylivedhere?
My phone buzzed in my hand. I jumped, nearly dropping it. But when I saw it was Sarah’s personal cell on the screen, I let out a breath.
“You better tell me what the bejesus is goin’ on here, girl,” I whispered. “Am I doing a repair or a B&E?”
“Sorry, I have more details now,” Sarah said in my ear. “So, apparently, it’sall automated. The service door requires a retina scan, so just go in the front. The door will open when you speak. Isn’t that cool?”
I did not think that was cool, and I was still boggling over the eye scan thing. In another of Ryan’s movies, someone used a person’s ripped-out eyeball to get a door to open. But I managed to let her know I was already inside.
“Oh, okay, good. The assistant sent me a floor plan pointing out the bathroom needing the repair.”
“So, I’m really just supposed to wander around in here on my own?”
“Yeah, I guess maybe the owner’s not around? I’m sending it now.”
My phone buzzed as her email arrived.
“Winona?” Sarah’s tinny voice came from the phone as I answered the attachment. “The message also updated the terms. The job says you need to be out of there by noon—I’m guessing when the owner gets home. They also prepaid you.”
Guilt splashed over me. Half of what they were paying me was still too much: from my understanding of the issue, this repair was something I could do with my eyes closed, and I’d likely be in and out a good two hours before their deadline without even rushing. But who knows—I’d been to more than one ‘simple fix’ type jobs that turned out to be shit-staineddisasters. Literally. Plus, Cher would tell me I was here on their timeline and their offer. And clearly, this person could afford to flush cash down the toilet, so to speak.
“Okay then,” I said. If he insisted.
Through the massive windows, movement by the pool made me jump. But it was just a leaf fluttering onto the surface of the sparkling water.
I was alone. Except… “Sarah,” I whispered, looking up at the ceiling. “The assistant who booked this job. Her name wasn’t Anita, was it?”
“No. Her name was something with an S. Sal, I think. Why?”
My concern mellowed only slightly as I said, “You ever see the Terminator?”
I let out a breath as I closed the bathroom door behind me. This too was fancy as hell—all marble with double sinks, separate shower and bath, and a bidet fancier than the toilet. But a bathroom filled with pipes felt familiar and safe compared to a possibly sentient house. For the first time since driving up that hill, I felt in control.
