“All right, but we do this my way. You follow my instructions without question.”
She nodded. “Whatever you say.”
44
2:45 a.m.
Pine Bluff’s post–Civil War courthouse stood in the center of town, with shops, offices, and a couple of cafes fanning out around it like a square wheel. Emily had always loved this courthouse. It made her think of history and justice.
But justice didn’t always show up here. Sometimes a person had to make justice happen. That was what she was doing tonight.
“You’re certain he said they were stored in the courthouse basement?” She’d envisioned some run-of-the-mill storage facility. Breaking into a courthouse would go on one’s permanent record ... especially Clint’s. If he was caught ... she didn’t want to think about it.
Funny, she’d wanted exactly this scenario in the beginning. She would have given anything for this opportunity to ensure he went back to prison. Ten years ago he’d sworn they were all lying, but she and everyone else had assumed he was the one lying.
They had all been wrong.
She pushed the painful memories away. She had to focus. This was far too important to screw up.
“That’s what he said. You can still back out.”
“No way.” She shook her head adamantly. “I’m in.”
“Let’s do it.”
He grabbed a small duffel and got out of the SUV. He’d left his truck several blocks away in case they needed a backup.
Emily followed his lead. They’d parked in a back alley on the east side of the courthouse. The whole world had appeared to be asleep as they drove into the heart of town. That was something one could usually count on around here.
She stayed close to Clint as they wove their way around to the front of the line of shops. Careful to stay away from the lampposts, they cut across the street and approached the courthouse on the wheelchair-accessible side.
This was the part that really worried her. Considering his former profession with Sylvester Fairgate, she wasn’t concerned about Clint’s ability to get in, but what if there was a security system? A silent alarm could go off and they wouldn’t even know it until it was too late.
When she asked as much, he said, “That’s why we’re not going through a door.”
He found what he deemed a worthy window and then he went to work. He explained a few things about security systems: “Magnetic sensors to monitor the opening and closing of windows are costly, especially when you’re talking about the whole building. This place has a lot of windows.
“Most places use glass-break sensors. As long as we get the window open without breaking any glass we’ll probably be fine.”
Probably?
With the window chosen, she understood why he’d selected this side of the courthouse. The wheelchair-accessible side had exterior access to the basement level, including two full-size windows, whereas the windows leading to the basement on the other sides were small casements. Probably not even large enough to meet the current emergency egress standards.
She would never have thought of this.
He pulled a pair of gloves out of the duffel. “Here.” He offered them to her. “I only have one pair; you take them.”
“You,” she argued. “You’re the one whose prints are on file. If they find mine they won’t have anything to compare them to.”
He considered her reasoning, then tugged on the gloves. She liked that he listened to her. She also found it mind-boggling, since less than one week ago they had been mortal enemies.
From his duffel he removed a glass cutter along with one of those suction-cup things people bought to hang wreaths on windows. When he started to lick, she stopped him. “DNA,” she pointed out.
He frowned, then held out the suction cup. She licked it. He watched avidly, then stuck it to the glass. He scored the glass and, using the suction cup, pulled the newly cut piece away from the sash, leaving a good-size hole.
“Amazing,” she offered.
Clint cautiously snaked his arm through the hole and unfastened the lock. The window went up and they were inside. He closed the sash and ran his fingers along the wooden edge where the two sashes met.
