Page 29

His brows whip upwards in a curious arch. “A secret?”

“I’m a cop,” I whisper, so low he has to lean down to catch the words. “Undercover. Termites aren’t the problem, Jer.”

I let my eyes slip sideways toward that door and Beanpole somewhere behind it. Doing whatever he’s doing that I’m not watching.

“What.” Jerry’s eyes round into perfectly circular coins of surprise, intrigue, maybe shock. “You’re saying . . .”

“I’m investigating a robbery.” I straighten away from him, sliding my hand into my pocket as I do. I don’t pull out that rooked ID often, but I still carry it. Never know when it’s gonna come in handy. I flip the badge-holder open, give it a little flourish, flip it closed again. “Real name’s Jason West. And I’m here to catch a criminal in the act.”

Oh, man, that was a cheesy-ass delivery.

Jerry buys it, hook, line, and sinker. “Whoa. Hot damn!”

“I know, right.” I shove down the weird feeling in my gut, the one that’s sort of sick and twisty. Guilt. That’s what it is. Guilt that I’m using him, dragging him into this. But what else am I gonna do? “That’s the basement, right?”

Like I don’t remember from our little Tour de Termites.

“Y-yeah?”

I again feign ignorance. “And that’s where the circuit breaker is, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Then that’s where I need to be.” I pat Jerry’s arm again, and I make a silent fucking promise to us both. He will not pay for my mistakes. “Do me a favor, buddy?”

“Of course.”

“Go stand at the end of the hall here, okay? Keep an eye out for anything . . . suspicious.” And before he can so much as think of asking what that might encompass, I slip through the basement door into darkness.

Heart in my throat, racing so hard I almost miss the murmur of a voice from below. “Just . . . gimme a minute, dude.”

Time to move. I blink against the dark, forcing my eyes to adjust. I’m at the top of a long staircase, headed straight downward. The smell’s soft, sort of warm, like unfinished wood and dirt and light moisture. An oddly homey, basementy, smell for such a cold, unfeeling house.

The walkie talkie crackles with low muttering I can’t discern. Beanpole answers, “Dude, they’re not labeled.”

My dress shoes make no sound on the stairs as I follow that voice down. Down, down, down, into a finished but plain basement that sprawls wide and open beneath the main floor. I guess when you’ve got ten thousand square feet above the earth, you don’t need to bother so much with those under it.

I pause at the bottom of the steps to peer through the gloom. There’s no furniture, no carpeting, nothing on the white walls. It’s lit only by the pale, yellowy orb of a flashlight glow in the far corner. He’s poised beside the circuit breaker, light in right hand, walkie talkie in the left. “Yeah, okay, I think I figured it out.”

Looks like Jax is correct again, boys and girls. We’re going for a power cut. And based on his focus—and his words—he’s planning to nix power to just one zone. Makes my job easier; I’ll know exactly where my good buddy Nick’s headed.

Beanpole shifts the flashlight into his mouth, and his long, twitchy fingers skate over the plastic switches. Like maybe he’s drawing up the courage to do it—until now, he hasn’t technically done anything wrong.

In the shadows behind him, I hover, invisible, at his shoulder. Like a damned ghost, waiting for him to make a move so I can make mine.

His fingers float over a switch.

Time freezes in a poised, pregnant pause. Bated breath. That moment of potential energy right before gravity grabs hold and crashes it all down into kinetic.

He flips the switch with a crack. “You’re a go, Nick.”

I’m moving before he’s done speaking. Not sure which zone the switch corresponds to, but I bet I know someone who does. That niggling unpleasantness churns my gut again. Guilt. Fucking guilt.

I don’t need to feel bad; hell, this is probably more fun than either of us have had in an age. And I’m not letting him get into trouble for this. So . . . all good. I bite down on a grin as I take the stairs two at a time.

“Jerry?” I poke my head out into the hall to find my brother from another mother poised against the wall like a devout guard.

“Dennis!”