Clique Bait - Ann Valett Page 0,78

systems, but I didn’t want to take the risk. I checked again.

“I can’t see any,” William said after a moment, confirming my thoughts. “Come on, we have to move.”

I nodded in agreement before unzipping the bag and removing a pair of black gloves. I didn’t have any for him with me, but I handed him the black material I’d intended to hide my face instead.

“We should have put these on before we jumped the fence,” I said with a frustrated sigh. Stupid. I moved to the back window that I’d seen on the floor plan. It was the lowest to the ground and was also unlikely to come with heavy security, being at the back of the house.

“Prints won’t stay for long,” he reasoned. “It will probably rain in the next few hours. And we could always leave a front window ajar so they think we got in through there.”

I nodded, convincing myself that his argument was reassuring. I ran my fingers along the window frame.

“As long as the dog doesn’t tell anyone.” He gestured to the dog sitting at his feet.

Ignoring him, my mind far from joking, I found the latch that removed the mesh screen from the window and pulled at it. I let out a sigh of relief when it gave way.

I looked to William, whose eyes were fixed on me with a look I couldn’t quite comprehend. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head with a smile. “It’s just you’re so professional, like you’ve been breaking into houses your whole life.”

“Who says I haven’t?” I challenged, pulling the window across the pane with triumph. I grinned. “And guess who keeps their windows unlocked?”

We’d gotten lucky when it came to getting in. But even with the glass pulled to the side, the gap wasn’t big enough to easily climb into. It would be a squeeze, especially for William.

I slipped through first, sitting on the sill for half a second to assess the interior. It was a laundry room, obvious from the pile of clothing scattered over the tiles beside a washer and dryer. My feet hit the floor soundlessly and I turned to Will. “We’re good.”

After handing me the bag, William stuck one leg through the opening and hoisted himself up. I took his hand when I realized he wouldn’t be able to balance while swinging his other leg over. It was warm in my grip, even through my gloves.

There was no time for my thoughts to linger, not when my paranoia had shifted from worrying the neighbors would see us to there being someone left inside the house. I did my best to push the growing anxiety away.

“We have to figure out which bedroom is his,” I said as I prepared myself to open the laundry door. “We need to work as fast as possible—we’ll split up and search.”

He nodded, his expression wary. “What exactly are we looking for?”

“Hard drives. Cameras. Computer storage. Maybe even computers themselves,” I listed. “We just need to find which room is his, first.”

William nodded curtly, and with that I took a deep breath and opened the door, revealing a darkened hallway. It was quiet, almost too quiet. The sound of our breathing seemed to echo throughout the rooms, bringing a chill to my spine.

I threw him a flashlight. “Don’t turn on any lights, and make sure you keep your hands covered.”

“Got it.”

“You go to the end. I’ll start with this room,” I said, nodding to the doorway closest to us. “Meet in the middle.”

I didn’t hesitate to barge into my allocated room. It was dark, the curtains drawn. I turned on my own flashlight, deciding where to begin. I could see that there were no decorations immediately identifying the owner, save for a poster of a car hung across the wall. I went to the top drawer of the bedside table, figuring that that was usually the most personal.

Inside were a few watches, a dozen or so condom wrappers, and receipts. I picked up something small and plastic. It was an expired bank card, something someone definitely shouldn’t keep around. Unfortunately, the name on it was not who I was looking for.

After returning the bank card to where I’d found it, I backed into the hallway.

I wanted to call out to William again, but I was paranoid that someone would hear, so I went straight to the next room instead. Much like the previous one, it was dark and untidy. This time, though, I instantly knew it was Desmond’s. In one