big thunderstorm rolls through town, or when a stranger invades her territory.
Alarmed, I looked around, but nothing seemed to be out of place.
I scooped her up to soothe her. “Whatsamatter?” I asked. “Did the big, bad detective scare you? It’s okay, baby. He’s a nice detective. But between you and me, he’s a little anal.”
Lucy wagged her tail slightly, but continued to shake.
“Honeypie!” I said. “It’s okay! What’s wrong?”
If only dogs could talk. No matter how much I stroked and soothed her, she wouldn’t calm down. I couldn’t leave her like this, and I knew I had to leave immediately. Or at least once Nash was good and gone.
“Ride in the car?” I asked. She perked up. Those were the magic words. “Yeah! Momma will take you for a ride in the car!”
Lucy loved to ride in the car. One time I had taken her on a car trip to Florida—a thirteen hour drive. When we got there, I was exhausted, and so was she. As a joke, after I unpacked, I asked her if she wanted to ride in the car again. She hopped back in, ready to go. I had to forcibly pull her out and bring her inside.
She leapt out of my arms and pranced in circles in front of the door.
“Ride in the car?” I cooed again. She bucked like an impatient horse.
I fished around in my purse for my car keys.
I debated about whether or not to call Miles. The bottom line was, I needed Schaeffer’s files. While I knew Miles would love to get his hands on them, his livelihood wasn’t on the line like mine was. Right now, Miles just flat out had more options in life than I did. And if I was about to break into a crime scene illegally and disturb the evidence, why should I involve him? If I called and asked, I knew he would come even if he didn’t want to. But if I didn’t call him and I got caught, Miles would have complete deniability.
I decided that Lucy would be a perfectly good lookout.
I glanced out the window to make sure Nash was long gone. I didn’t see any trace of him. Just to be on the safe side, I waited another five minutes before loading Lucy into the car and heading to Schaeffer’s place. I used the time to do a quick and dirty Internet search on how to pick locks with credit cards. Schaeffer, who had been extremely paranoid in life, had about five on every door. It was going to be interesting trying to get in. For good measure, I also dropped a small hammer in my purse, in case I had to break a window—but that would be my last resort.
After sending the lock-picking information to my iPhone and double-checking my credit card count, I hit the road. If I ruined a couple cards in the process, no biggie. They had no credit left on them that I could use, after all. I was completely maxed out.
Schaeffer’s house was an old 1950s ranch-style house with beige brick, a low-pitch roof, and small windows. It was his second house, which he’d had custom built to keep him comfortable while he was doing research here in town. Seeing as how he charged seven hundred dollars an hour, he could afford it.
The exterior was pitch black. The crime scene tape glinted yellow only in the gleam of my headlights. Everything else was dark. I drove past the house a few times to make sure everything was quiet. If any of the neighbors happened to be window-gazing tonight, I would surely appear suspicious. But somehow, “casing the joint” made me feel a little better about what I was about to do.
But what did I know?
Only what I’d seen on TV, that’s what. And of course, what I’d just learned on the Internet. Ahh, the Internet. How did anyone ever live without it?
I shut off my lights, pulled the car around back, and parked in the shadow of a fence. I cracked the windows for Lucy and got out of the car. Ordinarily, I would never leave my dog in the car on a summer day, but the evening was cooling off significantly. I estimated the temperature was now back down into the eighties, and there was a nice breeze blowing. I knew Lucy could handle that.
“Good dog,” I said, leaning in to pet her. “Stay right here and guard the house, okay?”