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So he left the gun in the holster and watched.
She brought out one of those umbrellas in a kind of pink/orange color, and fit it into the hole. While his patience frayed, and his stress built, she opened it, stepped back to admire, shifted the chairs a half inch.
Then didn’t she go back twice more, hauling back pots of flowers to set on the two back corners of the stone.
Another look, a walk around the patio, a nod.
He heard her say: “She’ll love it. Paint them this weekend, and completely charming.”
She pulled out her phone, checked the time.
“Why does everything take just a little longer than I thought?”
And finally! She walked back to the truck, got in, drove off.
He waited, made himself wait, then eased out of the woods. Nobody home, he knew that for certain or somebody would’ve come out.
He swung off the backpack, got out the surgical gloves, the crowbar. They’d agreed the kitchen window made the best sense. Nobody driving by would see him. He tested it first, but like the time they’d checked out the house, found it locked.
He got to work with the crowbar, and had the window open in minutes.
She’d see the marks if she looked at it from outside, but why would she?
He had to crawl in over the sink, shove the faucet out of his way. Then he eased down on the floor, took a slow look around.
He opened a door, looked down at steps, and smiled. Just like they’d figured. And he’d hole up there on those basement steps when she got home.
He texted Clara.
I’m in, babe.
It took so long! I was worried.
Some woman came by with chairs and stuff for the patiothey were making. I had to wait, but she’s long gone. Got the basement right here like we thought.
You stay out of sight, doll. It shouldn’t be more than another hour. Remember, when you hear her come in, send me a heart emoji.
And you send me one back. I got it. Love you, babe.
She acknowledged that with a kiss emoji.
He’d stay out of sight, Sam thought. But damned if he’d stay down in that basement—looked spooky—for an hour or more.
No reason not to see how a demon witch lived.
Turning, he found himself facing her office wall.
“Holy shit! Holy fucking shit!”
Sweat pearled on his forehead, slid down his spine.
She knew! She knew about all the resurrected. He hadn’t remembered all those faces, but he did now as they stared back at him from the wall. And a map with pins in it marking locations, times and dates and all of it on that wall.
He wanted to tear it all down, burn it and the house with it. He promised himself they’d do just that. Get the witch, then burn it down. He wished they could burn her with it.
Maybe, maybe Clara would feel the same after she saw.
He went into the bedroom, rifled through drawers. He found earrings he thought suited Clara, and pocketed them without a thought. In his hunt, he found a hundred and twenty in cash, and pocketed that.