Clique Bait - Ann Valett Page 0,77

felt like we were frozen, each one of us unsure what our next move would be.

But then a light switched on in a window across the street.

“Someone’s awake,” he said a little too quickly. We moved apart.

“It’s Brad, I think. He should be waking up to get ready for work now,” I said, my tone just as rushed as I checked my watch. “The others should be up soon too.”

“You really have done your research.”

My heart was hammering in my ears.

Minutes passed where we didn’t say anything. We watched anxiously as the sky turned from an inky black to a murky gray. More lights popped on, both in the unit and the ones surrounding it. My gut was twisting at the knowledge that we’d soon be entering that house.

I was becoming acutely aware of the rise and fall of William’s chest beside me, and I had to stop the urge to reach out and touch him in some way. To feel his skin burn against mine.

Hormonal teenage girl, I reminded myself.

This wasn’t a good time for weaknesses.

The first car left the garage, followed by a second just before seven. Our conversation had died, each of us had hit a wall that we were too scared to break through.

The small space in the car was quickly becoming unbearable.

At seven fifty, just as I sensed William start to doze off beside me, the roller door opened and a truck pulled out. I could identify Desmond’s profile as the driver in the dull light of the freshly risen sun.

I took a deep breath, the movement enough to stir William beside me. It was time.

Twenty-Seven

Monica,

When I was young, all that mattered to me were you and my parents. I thought you were perfect, and I thought my dad was a superhero. Piece by piece, that image of him was destroyed when I grew up and saw him for what he really is.

You were different.

I never stopped seeing the best in you. Even now.

Love, Chloe

WILLIAM AND I exited the car simultaneously, him with the bag thrown over his shoulder and me on the lookout as we crossed the road.

“The front door?” William whispered, his lips barely moving as he spoke under his breath.

I nodded, watching as a car pulled up a hundred or so yards away. My breathing hitched. “No, wait, backup plan. We don’t have time to pick locks—we’ll go to fence, where we’re hidden from the street.”

William, who appeared just as anxious as I was, led us around the side of the house. Time seemed to slow, each second exposed increasing the probability of something going wrong.

The fence was tall, much taller now that we were right up against it. I looked to William, who looked to me. Time was ticking.

“Here,” he said after half a second. He crouched over, holding out his hands. “I’ll hoist you up and follow.”

I sized up the fence. There was no way I was tall enough to pull myself over it, but he probably was.

Following his instruction, I placed my foot in his hand, and on a silent count of three I jumped upward, hitting the metal of the fence with a loud bang. A wave of panic washed over me, and it took all my concentration not to slip. With my breath hitched I caught my balance, and after one more look at William, I slid over to the other side.

I didn’t anticipate that there would be a dog.

The fluffy shih tzu didn’t bark. Instead it merely tilted its head curiously before running toward me. I was about to freak out before I realized its intention was only to lick me.

“I’m tossing the bag over,” William said seconds before the duffel bag flew through the air.

“Okay,” I said, stopping it from hitting the dirt below just in time. “Um, just warning you, there’s a dog.”

William fell to the ground with a grunt. The dog, which was barely the size of a large cat, had been scratching at my leg. Now his adorable attention was on William.

“Not much of a guard dog,” he noted.

“Shh,” I said, looking around at where the top of the building met the gutter. “There might be cameras.”

The garden was small, barely large enough for a patch of lawn and a clothesline, matching what I’d seen on satellite imagery. There were some outdoor pieces of furniture that looked like they’d seen better days, and an assortment of cigarette butts and beer bottles in a pile by the back door.

I couldn’t spot any surveillance