“We’ll need to check ourselves out.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, smiling.
“Never mind.”
She laughs.
“You tricked me there for a moment,” I joke, continuing my inspection. “You can use my house. Seriously, now. I’m not always home, but you can stay at my place if it makes you feel safer.”
“Uh-huh. Thanks. But no.”
I halt again.
“Are you pouting?”
I lift my phone and look at the screen.
“I’m not pouting,” she says, pouting.
“You’re so cute.”
She wags her finger at me.
“I’m not falling for your double talk.”
“It wasn’t double talk. And speaking about checking ourselves out. We’ll all have to do it at some point, no?”
I have fun teasing her.
She forgot about the strangers in her house, and she’s a little mad at me.
“I’m getting my money,” she says warningly, her lips pressed together, her brow furrowed.
“My little baby hustler. Of course, you’re getting your money. I don’t dare to mess with that,” I joke. “So, things look all right,” I murmur, locating that window.
The latch is old and rusty, indeed.
I try to fasten it, but it doesn’t stay locked.
“It’s not working…” I murmur, mainly to myself.
Grayson and I didn’t touch it. And I know it was locked when we were in the attic. The strange thing is… There is no breeze to speak off. The street is frozen, and nothing moves.
What prompted this latch to fall open?
Sure, she doesn’t know that.
Last night when I got home, the wind blew the snow off the road. But that was then. And this is now.
The window was locked an hour ago.
And I was right.
Someone had the house under surveillance, and they checked it after we left.
They thought we could provide some clues.
Really?