Page 16 of Redd

Upstairs first, I'll start there.

Like a ghost in the night, I walked through the house, poking my head into rooms and quietly opening drawers and dressers. Pulling paintings away from the walls and feeling for seams on the drywall, I checked for any secret safes tucked out of sight.

Nothing.

Fuck. Where the hell would it be?

If someone was going to have something as valuable as those guys made it out to be in their home, it only made sense to keep it securely locked. I had seen enough movies to know rich guys had at least one wall safe.

Even the small time businesses I had taken from in the beginning had a safe inside. But this guy so far had nothing.

He had his expensive Egyptian cotton linens and fancy Iceland Eiderdown comforters. There were original hand paintings on the walls and cherry wood dressers. But no jewelry boxes, no small locked chests or sealed safe.

I couldn't find shit upstairs, except a bunch of rooms, all pristine as if no one had ever stepped foot inside.

Making my way back downstairs, I stopped midway and listened. It was still quiet, neither one of the men were talking.

Slipping around the corner at the bottom of the stairs, I started down the hall.

“Val, you want a beer?”

“Yeah.”

Stopping short, I backed into the black shadows of the hall, pressing my back firmly against the wall. Heavy heels clicked closer and closer, passing right by me and going into the kitchen.

“What kind?”

“I don't fucking care, any kind,” Val called back from the distance.

The fridge door creaked open, and I could see the glow from the small bulb inside light up the room. Holding my breath, I heard Dominick shut the door and start back in my direction.

I knew that what I was doing was risky, I hadn't prepared for it at all. Normally I would take upwards of two weeks planning and plotting. I'd get blue prints of the layout inside, I'd study every door and exit; all the employees, all the security detail and shift changes, I knew everything.

I even went as far one time as to go in and pretend I was buying a diamond ring for my imaginary fiance. But this, this was spur of the moment, it landed in my lap like a surprise present.

The place was a mystery, the man who owned it was just a figment of a thought. I didn't know a name, I didn't now what he did or if he was good or bad.

He's bad. . . I know that much.

And I know he has something I want.

The darkness around me mimicked the darkness of my preparation. It was like the blind leading the blind. I was playing hide and seek with an item that I couldn't even describe.

I was going on gut instinct, hoping that I would know it the instant I laid my eyes on it.

The fridge door shut and I held my breath, hoping that I wouldn't be spotted as he walked back.

Keep going, just keep going.

Dominick didn't even stop as he passed back by me, my presence a mere microbe on his shoe. No one knew I was there, he didn't sense me in the dark hall, he didn't stop for a second and listen, noticing the extra heartbeat in the silence.

A cold sweat had started to trickle down my neck, scratching my skin and making me want to itch it. But I stayed still, waiting for the perfect moment to move on.

When I heard the hard pop and fizzle of the beers being opened, I continued on down the hall. This part of the house was a lot darker, the air was thicker, creating an intense weight on my shoulders.

It was plain in this part of the house. Nothing on the walls, no fancy decorations or top of the line flooring.

The hard marble transitioned into gray cement, smooth and clean, dull and lifeless. The paint on the walls was beige, covered in scuff marks and long scratches. It didn't make sense.