A sigh.
Tried the fifth pin again. Heard a satisfying clack. With all the pins raised, the tension wrench turned easily and the deadbolt opened.
The intruder was in.
The interior of the bungalow was dark. Quiet.
Good.
For the next hour, they searched the home from one end to the other.
It wasn’t there.
The figure in black quickly checked their phone.
It was getting late—early, actually—when they came across a pantry, tucked behind the fridge. The door was sealed with both a digital lock and a padlock.
Shit.
The padlock was smaller than the deadbolt on the rear door, which made it more difficult to pick. But it was the digital lock that was the real problem.
Sleek, black. Six digit pin. Fingerprint scanner. Not uncrackable, but time consuming. Not only that, but if unlocked, it might send a text alert to the owner’s cell phone.
That was a big no-no.
The intruder inspected the door frame. It wasn’t reinforced. A thousand-dollar digital lock that could be rendered useless by just a two-dollar crowbar. But that would leave evidence of the break-in. Another no-no.
Cursing again, the intruder wasn’t ready to give up just yet. Tried a few six digit combinations. Common codes—696969, 42069, 123456, 999999.
Nothing worked. If the laptop was in there, they weren’t getting it.
Not tonight.
The intruder performed one final look around the home, searching places that they might have overlooked on their first pass.
Nothing.
The pantry—it had to be in the pantry. Dejected, they finally gave up. Exited the way they’d come in. They’d only just closed the door when the silence of the night was broken by the unmistakable sound of a car approaching.
The intruder tried to will it to keep going. That never worked.
The car rolled into the driveway and stopped.
More sweat now, but not from the heat. Not from their own breath condensing on the thick fabric, but from stress.
The intruder worked quickly, lifting the pins again.
The front door opened just as the deadbolt on the back door slid into place, leaving it exactly the way they found it. No trace that anyone had ever been inside.
The intruder dissolved into shadow. Two streets over, one down, they slid behind the wheel of their car. A gloved finger clenched between teeth, tugged free.
Then a single text:I couldn’t find it.?
?Chapter 18
Darnell went hardon Dr.McGill. Tore him a new one. Got the man to write down everyone who had access to the gas storage area, with a shaking hand.
It was a short list.
