Melody scrambled out of the Jeep as if it was incubating some fatal, contagious disease. Things started coming together piece by ugly piece, filling in a nightmare that started with Rolf. How would it end?
She glanced at the man-sized door again. The answer was there. It had to be. She stared at it until her eyes ached, and then a tiny flame flickered in her mind. It was just a dim glow in her mental shadows at first, but it flared and grew brighter and suddenly she heard Aunt Netta.
There are two ways out of every trouble. The right way sometimes isn’t the one you think of first.
The door was the answer. It had been all along, but she’d initially only seen it through the lens of a desperate, panicked person—as an escape, nothing else. But now she could see the right answer clearly. She would open the door and set off the alarm. Rolf would run to the source, see the open door, and chase after her. He’d never guess that she would be hiding under a car, watching his feet run past her, inches away.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was all she had.
She hobbled to the door, took a deep breath, and pushed it open. In an instant, a deafening wail filled the garage and she slid beneath the Jeep.
* * *
“Okay, Mags, we’re officially wasting time here. Get us out of here and stop somewhere for coffee.”
Nolan was too tired to answer or argue, and really, why should she? Either nobody was home or they simply weren’t answering. And he was probably right about the Ortiz angle not going anywhere. A woman getting in her car, big deal. She started to pull away just as the house alarm went off.
Crawford rolled his head to look at her. “I guess you just got your exigent circumstances. You think we can actually get over the fence?”
“Damn right we can. I’ve been studying it for the past hour.”
* * *
… death, on shadowy and relentless feet.
That’s what Melody thought of as she held her breath and watched a pair of purple Converse sneakers race past in the dim light, close enough to stir the air in front of her face. A poem she couldn’t remember, a terror she wouldn’t forget.
The alarm was silent now, so she could hear footfalls smacking the driveway. When they faded, she released her breath and scuttled out from under the Jeep. Her ankle was on fire now, and it certainly wouldn’t bear very much weight, so she used the front bumper to push herself up off the floor. That’s when she noticed the damage. The Jeep had hit something.
Or somebody.
Katy Villa had been killed by a black Jeep. By this one?
Melody stumbled backward and limped as quickly as she could into the house and down a hall she hoped would lead her to Sam.
Chapter Sixty-nine
SAM COVERED HIS HEAD AND DROPPED to the floor when the alarm started whooping. He couldn’t forestall the reaction any more than he could stop breathing, and the thrill of freeing himself from the ropes contracted, making way for images of war.
The same thing had happened when Rolf shot the rifle, but this time he didn’t black out. In fact, the images seemed to hit an obstacle and began to recede. He couldn’t envision the obstacle, but he knew it was Melody. Amazing. He could fight for someone else, just not himself. Maybe that revelation would be important in the future, but it wasn’t important now.
The alarm went quiet. Rolf had canceled it before the cops would be called and now he was outside with his gun, chasing down his quarry. Sam vaulted up off the floor, ran full speed down the long central corridor to the foyer, and vaulted up the stairs three at a time. He felt like he could fly.
He grabbed his Colt and extra clips, checked his phone—locked, as Rolf had promised—then raced back down the stairs to the front door. Rolf was a dead man. He might know his own property, but he didn’t know shit about ambush tactics. He was going to surprise that little fucker and unload everything he had because Rolf was the enemy, and the enemy had to die …
“Sam!”
He spun around and saw Melody leaning against the wall, doubled over in pain, and his heart seized. “Mel, what happened, are you all right?”
“Twisted my ankle. Bad.”
It was puffy and triple in size, turning purple. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the first room he came across: the Safari Room, with animal heads on the wall and a green velvet sofa. He stuffed what was probably a thousand-dollar pillow under her calf. “Keep your leg elevated. Is Rolf outside?”
She nodded and winced in pain. “I tricked him, but I don’t know how long he’ll look for me.”
Sam gazed up at an antelope, its glass eyes fixed on him judgmentally. “Stay here, I’m going to go get him.”
“No! You have no idea where he is, and he has more firepower.”
“That doesn’t mean shit.”
Melody grabbed his hands and squeezed them hard. “It does to me, Sam. Stay inside and go find a phone. There have to be a million of them in here.”
Sam was so jazzed for battle that it took a moment for the blood lust to clear his system. She was right. It would be easier to defend the house and it was his best chance to keep Melody safe. “Okay, but you’re coming with me.”
“I can’t walk, I’ll just slow you down.”
“No you won’t, you’re going to be an extra pair of eyes. Hang on tight.” He scooped her up again, cradled her like a baby against his chest, and ran from room to room in a dark, strange house, looking for a lifeline. He hadn’t wanted to go back to the ugly place, but Sam reasoned that if Rolf spent so much time in it, there might be a phone.
He found a mobile in a box beneath a desk. He turned it on and the screen came to life, displaying a picture of him and Yuki mugging for the camera in Venice Beach, the day he’d bought her sunglasses. A waiter had taken it for them and it had been her home screen ever since.
Sam punched in her password, praying to God Rolf hadn’t messed with her phone, too.
* * *
Nolan and Crawford were skirting the driveway, staying close to the tree line, their guns drawn. The alarm was silent now, and their ears were honed to the slightest sound. When they flushed a startled bird out of a cypress, they both dropped and aimed.
Nolan could finally see part of the house now, but there were still too many damn trees, too many places to hide. It was worse than a parking garage. She wasn’t expecting to confront burglars. The alarm had been shut off promptly, which meant someone was inside; but that didn’t take the edge off, nor should it. Always assume the worst, hope for the best.
She and Crawford froze when they heard a rustle in the trees. Not a bird, not even a coyote, something bigger. A twig snapped. Assume the worst.
“LAPD, freeze! Hands up! Come out from your cover!”
A skinny kid with terrified, buggy eyes moved slowly out of the woods, his hands up. “You scared the hell out of me,” he said shakily.
“Who are you?”
“Rolf Hesse. I live here.”
Nolan lowered her gun. “Do you have an ID?”
“Sure. It’s in my back pocket, okay if I get it?”
Nolan nodded. “Go ahead.”
He passed her a California driver’s license that checked out. “I’m sorry we startled you, Mr. Hesse, we heard the alarm. Is everything okay?”