She stirred slightly, straightening in the passenger seat and pressing her fingertips to the window for a moment before pulling them back. Her head was on a swivel, taking in everything as they passed. “It’s gorgeous,” she whispered, leaning closer to the window. “I’ve always wanted to visit this place.”
He chuckled, making a slow bob of his head as he glanced at the scenery as they drove by. “Blaze has taste when it counts, but don’t tell him I said that.”
Her mouth curved faintly as she glanced over at him. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want your tough-guy image to get tarnished.”
“Exactly.”
He turned south off Abercorn and wound through a neighborhood of restored Federal-style houses set close to the sidewalk, front stoops flanked by cast-iron railings, window boxes still carrying the last of summer. The house on Whitmore sat at the end of a short block, a narrow two-story painted the color of old bone, with green shutters and a wrought-iron gate standing open just enough to suggest welcome without meaning it.
Elvis circled the block twice before he parked. Another old habit. He checked the street in both directions, taking in the neighbor’s porch light on the right, a dog somewhere behind the left house, and every car parked on the street, wondering if it actually belonged there. He stared at it, waiting and watching.
Nothing moved, however.
He killed the engine and reached for the door handle. “Stay put while I look around. Keep the doors locked.”
Delaney reached out and caught his wrist before he could open the door. “Bobby…”
He offered her a smile as he patted her hand. “It’s all right. Just want to take a quick look around before you step outside.”
She gave a curt nod as she released her grip.
He took four minutes to walk the perimeter, double checking that everything was as it should be. The gate latch showed no signs of tampering, and the rear courtyard was small and walled in old brick, a single gate facing the back alley he found padlocked and secure. The windows on the ground floor all had the secondary locks Blaze favored—visible from inside and invisible from out. He found the cameras where Blaze had some friends of Melinda’s, three of them, angles overlapping, leaving no dead zones.
He found the key under the mat and pocketed it. Then he went back for Delaney.
To his annoyance, she had gotten out of the car while he was gone and now stood on the sidewalk with her arms folded and her eyes tracking the same street he had just walked. It shouldn’t have surprised him that she was doing her own assessment without being asked. It was her life on the line, after all.
“Everything looks clear,” he told her. “We should get our stuff and out of sight.”
She nodded and followed him in.
The house was simply furnished, and the faint chemical smell of cleaning supplies filled the air. A quick walk-through revealed two bedrooms upstairs, a narrow kitchen that opened to the back courtyard, and a sitting room at the front with windows that looked out onto the street through the shutters at an angle that let you see without being seen. It appeared Blaze had thought of everything.
Speaking of, his phone buzzed: We’re pulling up in ten. From what I can tell, Leon’s about an hour or so away. Do you think he’ll try something tonight?
He showed the text to Delaney.
She read it and handed the phone back to him. “It’s a good question. Do you?”
“He may have figured out you’re in town, but he doesn’t know where, so we keep it that way until tomorrow. It’ll give us a chance to get some rest and set up where we want him to find you. It’s better if we choose the location.”
She sighed, and he could see the frustration on her face.
He reached out, sliding a hand down her arm. “We both could use the rest after that drive. Let’s just get settled and then we’ll see about something to eat. Hopefully, Blaze had whoever cleaned the place stock it with food as well.”
He watched as she eased her way through the first floor, her arms folded over her chest so that she touched nothing. She took the measure of the place as if she knew she wouldn’t be there long. This was just a stop among many.
He set his bag down near the sofa and then moved to lean against the kitchen doorframe, watching her. “You doing all right?”
She nodded. “Do you know who he placed this house under?” she asked, running her finger along the edge of the kitchen counter without looking at him.
He shrugged. “Some consulting firm out of Atlanta. Fictitious of course. Paper trail goes back about eight months or so.”
She gave a slow bob of her head. “Credible.”
“Like I said, he knows what he’s doing.”
She turned then, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed, eyes moving over his face the way she had been doing more often since the cabin, like she was checking for something she hadn’t found yet, or maybe verifying something she had. “You know Leon is just the arms of this, right? He’s not the head, and this won’t stop until we get the head.”
