“Okay, sure.”
He wasn’t wearing a gun—she’d seen him do a full circle and would have spotted it. But he might have a weapon in the pack.
“You can keep the pack,” he said, when he set it down. “My wallet’s in there. You can keep the money.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“Listen, listen, I got lost. I dropped my compass and broke it. I saw the cabin through my binoculars when I was scanning around. I just came for some help. Call the police.”
“Where did you leave your car?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be lost. I don’t mean to be a smart-ass,” he added quickly. “I drove out of Bickford, south out of town for about a mile, then I pulled over. The light was really good, the shadows. I wanted to take some shots. Photographs, I mean,” he said, with another wary look at the gun.
“You should respect private property.”
“Yes, you’re right. I’m really sorry.”
She pointed. “If you go that way, you’ll come to the road. Turn left. You should find your car in about a quarter-mile.”
“Okay. Thanks. I’ll just—”
“Take your pack,” she told him, as he started to step off the porch without it.
“Okay.” He picked it up, his eyes shifting from her face, to the gun, to the dog, back again. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She watched him walk away, in quite a hurry, until he was out of sight. Back in the house, she continued to watch him on the monitor as he hiked at a half-jog up her road to the main one, tossing glances over his shoulders every few minutes.
She’d frightened him, she thought. Well, he’d frightened her. She supposed that made them even.
* * *
Roland knew exactlywhere his car was parked.
He hadn’t been expecting the gun. He hadn’t been expecting the cameras, either. He’d been told she had security, including cameras around the house. Nobody had mentioned she had them ranged back in the woods.
If he hadn’t spotted one when he had, he’d have blown the job.
She’d bought the scared, lost hiker routine. Why not? Hehadbeen scared. She’d held the Glock like someone who knew how to use it. Like someone who would use it.
He had to admire that, now that he wasn’t standing on the wrong side of it.
And the dog. He’d known about the dog, butGod damn,that was one big bastard.
Then the locks on the back door. As good as they came, he mused, as he tossed the pack in the backseat. He was pretty damn good with the picks, but he’d never get through those. Moot point, as he couldn’t get by the cameras, not without a whole lot of equipment.
That much security? Overkill.
The job just got a lot more interesting. Anybody with security like that, the big dog, the Glock, the ’tude?
She had something to hide. He loved finding out what people wanted to hide.
24
Brooks came into the kitchenwith a clutch of white daisies with bright yellow buttons and a rawhide bone for Bert.
“You brought me flowers again.”
