from his face and he was twitchy.
“Drop the phone,” DJ repeated.
The man dropped the phone. Slipping his left arm from the sling, DJ managed to grab the phone while holding his gun on the trembling man. The phone was still unlocked and he confirmed that no outgoing calls had been made.
“I wish you’d just accepted that I was from PG&E. Give me your wallet.”
Shaking, the man tossed his wallet to the ground. DJ fumbled with it, dropping his gaze only long enough to see the man’s name and address. Sure enough, the man lived in the house behind the fence.
“Let’s go home, Mr. Smythe,” he said, gesturing with his gun. “Don’t make a scene and you’ll live to see another day. This gun has a silencer and I will drop you where you stand.”
Nelson Smythe obeyed. “What are you going to do to me?”
“I’ll tie you up until I can get away—if you cooperate. Make a fuss and you’re dead. Got it?” They entered Smythe’s backyard through a door in the fence. “Are you home alone?”
Smythe nodded again. “My wife is out of town until next week,” he stammered. “I won’t report you, I swear. Take my phone, my car, my money. Just don’t tie me up. Nobody will find me. I’ll die.”
“Fine. Show me your car.”
Body sagging in relief, Smythe led him into the garage, where a Lexus was parked. More importantly, there was a chest freezer up against the far wall.
“Stand next to the freezer,” DJ commanded, and Smythe obeyed. “Now open it. I want to see what you have stored inside.”
Frown deepening, Smythe lifted the freezer lid. “It’s just frozen meat and—”
DJ fired, hitting Smythe right between the eyes. He used the backward momentum to push with his right shoulder, toppling the man into the freezer, where there was just enough room for him. DJ fired again, just to make sure.
Kowalski had taught him that, too. He’d learned more from Kowalski than he’d thought.
Holstering his gun, DJ checked Smythe’s pockets, finding an engraved lighter, a half-smoked pack of Lucky Strikes, and the keys to the Lexus.
Excellent in more ways than one. DJ hadn’t had a smoke in over a month and he’d missed it. He lit up a cigarette and inhaled, feeling his body relax. Now that Smythe was taken care of, he’d finish mounting the camera on the tree outside and get out of here.
Or . . . if the house was truly empty until Mrs. Smythe returned, he could hole up here.
Like Ephraim did in the house across from the Sokolovs?
Well, shit. Except DJ knew there was a wife who’d be arriving home at some point. If he could keep track of the wife’s movements, it could work. For a day or two, at least.
He looked at Smythe’s phone and cursed. It was locked again. But . . . Examining the phone’s make and model, he was encouraged. Some of those phones had a major glitch—the facial recognition software worked even when the phone owner was asleep, unconscious, or even dead.
This, he’d determined on his own and had shared with Kowalski. Kowalski had been very pleased to learn this tidbit.
DJ held the phone screen over Nelson Smythe’s face and, bingo, the phone unlocked. It wasn’t a permanent solution, but he could at least find the wife’s texts and Facebook and figure out where she was. As long as she wasn’t headed to this house anytime soon, it could work.
He scrolled through the man’s phone. She’d gone to her daughter’s house. She’d been gone for a week and would stay through Memorial Day, returning home on Tuesday.
DJ was always mildly surprised when holidays like Memorial Day happened. Only Christmas and Easter were celebrated in Eden. All of the other holidays were either ignored or reviled. Valentine’s Day was ignored. Halloween, the devil’s day, was reviled. Fourth of July was also reviled, as it celebrated the government. Which Pastor said was evil.
It was the best way to frighten and manipulate his congregation.
Why are we moving? The government is coming. They destroyed the Branch Davidians. They will destroy us, too.
He’d believed Pastor’s words until he was seventeen. Until DJ had killed his father and taken over as Eden’s shopper. One glimpse at the real world and DJ had known Pastor’s lies for what they were.
But he still didn’t buy into the holidays. They were only good because sales of narcotics skyrocketed over long holiday weekends.
He’d take Memorial Day, though, if it meant he had the house through Monday.