Page 23 of Tide and Seek (Dr. Maxwell Thornton Murder Mysteries #8)

Jones fast-forwarded the footage, cars blurring past in accelerated motion until he slowed it down again. We watched the beach colony as the sun set and night descended. The traffic in and out of the colony slowed to almost nothing. “There’s not a lot going on until around 1:30 a.m.”

“Makes sense,” I said. “It’s a small and quiet community.”

“Usually,” Max muttered.

As darkness settled around the homes, the screen showed the same entrance. The community remained serene, with only the occasional security light casting pools of illumination across the empty road. Then, at 1:34 a.m. according to the timestamp, a figure appeared at the edge of the frame.

“There he is,” Jones said.

“Can you enhance that?” I asked, squinting at the monitor.

Jones clicked a few keys, zooming in on the figure. The person was slightly above average height and build, wearing dark clothing and what looked like a ski mask. The image quality wasn’t perfect, but it was clear enough to see that whoever this was had deliberately concealed their identity.

“He’s obviously up to no good. He’s not using the main entrance,” Maxwell observed, his voice tight with tension.

“Yep,” Jones agreed. “He was clearly trying to skirt around the security cameras. Didn’t work, but they tried.”

The figure moved along the perimeter of the camera’s range, staying in the shadows but clearly heading toward the beach houses.

“Would you say that could be Luke?” I asked Max quietly.

Max leaned closer to the screen, studying the figure’s movements. “I’m not sure. Luke looked really skinny when we saw him the other day. This guy’s not huge, but he’s stocky.”

“I agree. This person has a bigger frame.”

“Could it be one of the other residents at the colony?” Jones asked.

Max hesitated. “Not sure. Obviously the mask makes it harder to tell, but they don’t seem familiar. James was out of town, Luke’s build is more lanky and tall, and there’s no way that’s C.J. The physique is too masculine.”

“I agree,” I murmured.

“Keep watching,” Jones said, advancing the footage slowly. “Maybe something will strike you. Sometimes the way a person walks or swings their arms can be recognizable.”

“Okay,” Max agreed.

Jones reran the tape a few times, showing different camera views, but Max didn’t seem to see anything that sparked recognition.

“Will we get a chance to see inside my house too?” Max asked hesitantly.

“Absolutely.” Detective Jones nodded. “We’ll switch over to the inside cameras from your security company in just a second. I wanted to give you the opportunity of seeing the person from all angles. Cameras can distort things.”

“Appreciate that,” I said.

Max sighed. “While I’m glad of this opportunity, I have to admit it’s unsettling watching them creeping around outside my house.”

“Yeah.” Detective Jones snickered. “They look kind of like a rat scurrying around, looking for a way inside.”

I peered closer at the screen. “He didn’t seem to give the other homes much attention. He headed straight for Max’s place.”

“Yep. Sure did.” Detective Jones nodded. “Whoever they are, they knew what house they wanted to hit.”

The figure disappeared from view for several minutes, presumably at the front door, breaking into Max’s house. Jones pushed a few buttons and suddenly we had a view of the inside of Max’s beach home.

The room on the monitor was mostly dark, with silver moonlight spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows and across the hardwood floors.

Furniture appeared only as silhouettes: the sharp edge of the dining table, the ghostly outline of the sofa, the upright shadow of a lamp.

Beyond the glass, the restless shimmer of the Pacific made a dim, shifting backdrop against the stillness of the interior.

The door eased open, and a figure appeared in silhouette against the dark.

They turned and confidently punched a code into the alarm pad beside the door.

Without hesitation, they strode inside as if they owned the place.

But ten seconds later, when white strobe lights began to flash, the figure froze.

Each burst of light caught them mid-motion, turning their panic into a jerky stop-motion reel.

“Cocky bastard thought he knew the code.” Jones chuckled. “Apparently not.”

We watched as the figure burst forward a few steps, head snapping side to side in a frantic scan of the room.

Their movements grew jerky and uncoordinated, as if they couldn’t decide where to go.

They started toward the hallway that would lead upstairs, only to spin back, then stagger toward the front door.

Finally, they bolted outside, stumbling in their haste as though demons were on their tail.

“Thank goodness the alarm spooked them,” Max rasped, sounding relieved but angry.

“Yep.” Jones nodded. “I doubt they’re pros. They scared too easily.”

“Do you know what code they punched into the system?” I asked as Jones replayed the break-in for us. If it hadn’t been footage of Max’s house being burgled, I might have found the intruder’s Keystone Cops routine amusing.

“Yes. It wasn’t the main code that Dr. Thornton would use.

It was a code created for service people.

” Jones paused the video and flipped through a clipboard of papers.

He pulled on some wire-rimmed glasses and peered at the sheets.

“Looks like the code was changed a little over a week before the break-in.”

“Hmm.” I frowned. “I wonder who changed it. Any way to know that?”

Jones shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. If we’d known sooner that the password had been changed, we could’ve pulled the video of that time.

But the system only saves about seven days’ worth of video before wiping itself, and we just missed the window.

We have no way of knowing who changed the service password.

Obviously it was someone who knew the original one.

They’d have needed that info to change it. ”

“Damn. Too bad.” I focused on the video when he restarted it. “It would have been helpful if we knew who changed the code. They must have had a reason.”

Max frowned. “If the code was changed, then anyone who used it should have been notified, right?”

Jones shrugged. “It’s up to whomever changed it to let other users know.”

“As far as I’m aware, only three people had access to the original service code.” Max squinted at the screen. “Margie had it, Harris, the security guy, had it, and Coastal Pest Solutions did. Other than that, nobody went inside the house.”

“That’s good to know.” Jones scribbled some notes. “We knew about the house-cleaning lady and the pest guy. We didn’t realize the security guy had the service code too, although it makes sense. We’ll need to talk to him.”

“The burglar thought they knew the code. They obviously didn’t realize it had been changed.” Max met my gaze. “Does that mean my burglar has to be either Harris or the bug guy?”

“Not necessarily.” Jones leaned back in his chair. “If Margie was selling drugs to her neighbors, maybe she gave the code to your house to an accomplice or customer. She might have sold access to your home.”

“You mean so they could come and rob me?” Max looked horrified.

“Could be.” Jones grimaced. “Maybe she was running a burglary ring as well as a drug ring. Who knows?”

Max’s face fell. “I trusted her implicitly, but I’m beginning to realize that was a mistake.”

Jones glanced at Max guiltily. “Now, hold on. I’m just kind of throwing ideas out right now.

We’ve seen no actual evidence Margie was involved in burglary, and from what we can tell, she wasn’t running a big-time drug operation either.

She only sold to people she knew well, and she was careful.

” Jones winced. “Well, not careful enough, seeing as she OD’d—but you know what I mean. ”

“Have you interviewed the bug guy?” Max asked. “To see if he knew the code had been changed?”

“We did. He said he didn’t know about the change.” Jones glanced at Max. “And as far as him being our guy, he has a clean record and a solid alibi for the night of your burglary.”

Max seemed to deflate. “Oh.”

“That’s not the end of it, though. It’s still early days.” Jones gave Max a sympathetic look. “Alibis sometimes fall apart, and people often come forward with information once the guilt starts eating at them.”

“Do you happen to know who Margie’s supplier was?” I asked.

“Not yet.” Jones tapped some computer keys and the video switched back to the outside cameras.

From that angle we could see the would-be burglar running away from Max’s home, toward the main road.

“That’s all the video we have of the burglar,” Jones said.

“We lose him after this. No cameras picked him up leaving through the main gate, so he had a way out through the perimeter fence.”

Max grumbled, “What’s the point of a security gate if someone can just slip in under the fence?”

“The perp likely cut the fence to get in,” Jones said. “It’s a long stretch, and we haven’t checked all of it yet.” He grimaced. “I apologize for that. Budget cuts keep getting in the way of us doing our job.”

Max huffed. “I’m pretty disappointed in Harris the security guy. If someone cut the fence he should have noticed that, not to mention he should have noticed someone sneaking around my house trying to break in.”

“The problem with a lot of those security companies is the officers mostly just drive around in their vehicles. If they’re lazy and follow the same routine every shift, the crooks figure it out. They watch the patterns and know exactly how much time they have until the guard comes back.”

“I never thought of Harris as lazy,” Max said. “He seemed to love his job.”

Jones laughed. “Yeah, well, sometimes people love their job because it’s easy and they can slack off. I don’t know Harris, so I can’t really say if he’s conscientious or not.”