going to do this, I used the remote opener Courteney had given me to open the gate.
It clicked and breezed slowly open.
I glanced behind me, but there was no one on the street. No one could possibly see me from the other yards or from a window anywhere through all the trees. I still felt like a creeper as I stepped through the gate. I closed it behind me like a considerate intruder, waiting until it locked into place. Then I looked up toward the house. I could only see the closed three-car garage from where I was standing.
I walked up the driveway, slowly. There were palm trees in the yard. Two of them, one standing to either side of the driveway.
When I moved to Vancouver at age thirteen from the virtual desert outside Osoyoos, I’d decided that one day, when I had my own place, I’d have a palm tree in my front yard. There weren’t all that many palm trees in Vancouver; I always figured people who planted them here were optimistic types.
Over the years, I’d grown less optimistic about such things as owning real estate in Vancouver. Especially real estate of this kind.
Cary Clarke’s house was pretty much a mansion. Gorgeous, modern, built out of taupe stone in a way that looked timeless. The surrounding yard was green and lush, in full-bloom. There were ivy vines climbing up the walls. And big windows along the front of the house that I couldn’t see into; curtains lined the inside.
I heard the tinkle of a little bell and something furry darted out of the bushes. A silvery-white cat trotted over to me, the bell on his collar tinkling. The cat sniffed the hand I offered, then rubbed against my ankle.
“Well, hello. Aren’t you friendly.”
I bent down to rub the cat’s chin and furry little cheeks and it purred loudly. I loved animals, cats included. I’d volunteered at an animal shelter a couple of days a week for many years, just to get my fix. I would’ve gotten my own pet—or a few—if only I was home more. I was relieved, though, that when I’d asked Courteney if her brother had any killer guard dogs I should know about, she’d assured me that he had only a cat.
Turned out, it was fluffy and adorable, with big green eyes that gazed at me with curiosity and what I could only describe as affection.
“Whoa, won you over fast.”
The cat rubbed against my leg again, putting its whole, furry body into it, purring. I took a peek at the little tag on its collar. Freddy.
“Well, Freddy, lead the way.”
I continued up the driveway and the cat didn’t lead the way, but he did follow me. I climbed the steps to the front door and rang the bell. I waited a few minutes, but no one answered.
Then I tried again.
While I waited, I watched Freddy the cat. He was rubbing himself on the corner of the house, the wall of the garage, and kept peeking back at me. Then he wandered away around the front of the garage.
I looked up at the house. There was no sound from inside. But I knew the homeowner was inside, because Courteney assured me he would be.
Apparently, he never went anywhere else.
So I headed around the front of the garage, the way the cat had gone. I didn’t see him, but there was only one place he could’ve disappeared so fast. I went that way and peeked around the side of the house. There was Freddy, wandering up the path. There was a gate to the backyard standing open and the cat walked through it.
I followed.
We emerged into the beautiful oasis of the backyard. There was a high fence and trees around the perimeter, more trees and greenery along the back of the house, gardens off to the far side. And right in front of me, taking up most of the yard, a stone-paved patio flowed into a gorgeous swimming pool that was large enough to swim laps in.
Beyond the pool, in the back corner of the yard, there was a guesthouse. It looked similar to the main house, just small, with French doors that would open right onto the path around the pool.
I followed Freddy; the path in front of us curved through the trees toward the house, where a set of French doors stood closed. There was no curtain on the inside, but it was dark in there, the sun was bright out here, and I