“This house is for sale. There’s a sign in the front yard.”
Oh. “The neighbors will see us.”
“The neighbors are asleep. It’s four a.m. Let’s go.”
Marc hopped out and opened my door before I got to it. I got out, clutching at my pants to keep them on my hips correctly. He closed the door quietly and turned, following Axel without saying anything. He even avoided my eyes.
Oh god. I paused in the driveway, watching them walk to the street and turn. I started off slowly, creating distance between us. Was he mad at me? Why wasn’t he talking? It wasn’t that he hadn’t talked before, it was that something was suddenly on his mind and he seemed to be avoiding only me. Or was I being paranoid? No. His lips were tight, face grim.
I tramped after Axel, too afraid to address Marc and start a scene. Maybe he was feeling the edge because Brandon was missing. Had I ever seen Marc truly upset before? What was he like?
Did he blame me for all of this?
“Where are we going?” I asked. “Is this his house?” I didn’t understand why we parked somewhere and left the car.
“No,” Axel said. “We’re just borrowing it.”
“I thought we were going after Randall. Which house is his? And what are we looking for?”
“If we find out who he is, how he died, it might lead us to these German guys. Maybe they killed him and left clues. Crime scenes usually are riddled with them. And if we find this core in the meantime, hopefully we can do the right thing by it. First thing, though, is to make sure Brandon is safe.”
I followed the guys to a greenhouse in the next cul-de-sac over from where we’d parked. The house was similar to all the others, stacked on top of a garage. There were low hedges, and a brick mailbox and an American flag hanging from a pole in the front lawn. If Randall Jones had been hosting an illegal cell phone service, you wouldn’t have been able to tell from his front lawn.
“This it?” I asked. It didn’t look very expensive, not compared to some other properties I’d seen elsewhere in Mt. Pleasant. I don’t know why, but when the German asked to find this core and get it, I expected it was from someone rich. Really rich. Why get something if not to sell it for money?
Axel and Marc stood close to a palm tree planted on the corner of a property a block down the street from where we’d parked. Their heads moved in opposite directions, checking out the neighborhood, the layout. I imagined they were doing spy calculations to figure out the best move. The lights were off in the Jones’s home. The garage doors were closed. The property looked still, uninhabited.
“Is there a Mrs. Jones?” I asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Axel said. “I think so, or else this property would be up for sale after he died.”
“Are there little Jones children?”
“Don’t know.”
“What do we know?”
Axel turned his head toward me. His dark eyes met mine, and he challenged me that way. “I know we should be quiet and take a look around.” He headed to the garage.
“We can’t just barge in,” I said.
“We don’t have time to do this the right way,” he said. “We have to do it the quick way.” He hunched a little, sneaking up toward the house and trying to be discreet about it.
Marc followed him close, a shadow. He still hadn’t said a word, not even a breath about the mission we were on. Was he being quiet because he had to be or because he was angry at me? Why wouldn’t he look at me? This was going to drive me crazy. I’d have asked flat out but it really wasn’t the time to get into a fight. I swallowed back my bubbling fear and tried to stick close to them.
The Jones’s front porch was on a second story balcony with staircases leading up. The garage doors had a single normal door between them, making a lower level entryway. It was tucked behind the staircase that lead to the porch. Stupidest design ever. Someone could hide underneath the staircase and break into the garage.
Guess where Axel headed?
“There could be a security alarm,” I whispered to him as I followed.
“Quiet,” Marc said, surprising me by responding at all. “And stay close. Go where I do.”
Axel walked up to the door, jiggled the handle and waited. He did it again and then waited again. He examined the door closer, pulling out a keychain with a flashlight attached. He aimed it at the door, examining the lock.
I turned around, scouting the area. We were shadowed by the staircase, and there weren't any front lights on. I angled to keep myself between his light and any neighbors that might be snooping.
Breaking and entering was worse than getting caught pickpocketing. I was on edge, waiting for an alarm. I turned, trying to look the other way when Marc materialized in front of my face, closer than he’d been before. My heart leapt.
“Ugh,” I whispered. “You scared the sh—”
“Shh,” he said.
“Come on,” Axel whispered.
I turned, and Axel had the door open. He was holding it and gesturing I should enter. He was going to play courteous Southern gentleman now? I smothered a groan and walked in. Maybe he wanted me to get shot first if the widow got spooked and came down with a loaded gun.
The garage was wider than I thought with two cars parked on either side, one was a minivan. Yup. Family. There were kids. Shit.
“We can’t be here,” I whispered. I wasn’t going to spook some mom when her husband just died and with kids here.
Axel moved forward, close enough that his chest pressed against my back. His hand slipped over my mouth, covering it.
His breath fell against my ear. “Listen,” he whispered. “We’re going to get some information and slip out again, but I can’t do it if you’re talking. I need you as quiet as possible. Please.” He wasn’t fooling any more. He was begging.
I nodded against the hand pressed against my mouth. When he released me, he moved to the lead. I looked behind us. Marc was at the door, holding it open, keeping an eye on the street and the neighborhood, being a lookout.
There were boxes stacked together on shelving near the back. Trash
bins were against the wall. There was old workout equipment in the corner. The cars were newer models, the inside of the minivan was spotless but there was a car seat. There were a couple of bicycles, one with training wheels, and a tricycle.
Axel tucked his head around the other car, a smaller SUV. He tried the handle, no luck: it was locked. He was lucky the alarm wasn’t set to super sensitive.
He was so quiet, he could have been floating. He went over to the boxes, examining the different ones. He pointed to me, and then pointed to the trash cans.
I shook my head. No way was I digging through trash.
He pointed again, more insistent this time and I scowled. Kayli Winchester went from pickpocket to trash diving. Not exactly a promotion.
The trash bins were big, blue, and there was a recycling bin next to it. I tried the recycling first, old cans, newspapers, glass wine bottles…a lot of them. Poor lady. Her husband was dead. Couldn’t blame her. For that reason, though, I had to leave the recycle bin alone. The cans and bottles made it impossible to move much around without them clanging against each other.
The blue bins held black trash bags. I gazed in at them, trying to figure out the contents just by looking at the outside. What was I supposed to do with these?
I glanced back at Axel, he pulled a box down, opened it and examined the contents. He closed it again, pulled another down and then opened that one.
I groaned. He was making noise. I listened, not hearing anything coming from the house, but not trusting my ears. Kids were a problem. They wake up easily. They move quietly and could spot us and alert their mom.
Taking too long would get us caught. I ripped open the trash bag on top, examining. This one was filled with typical kitchen garbage, the second one had a collection of smaller, transparent bags. If I had a home office, I’d have those clear small trash bags in my trash bin. This was probably a winner. I lifted the entire thing out and closed the bin again. They weren’t going to miss it. Job done.