Page 10

The Thief

The thief remained in hiding for more than an hour after he heard no more voices.

What the fuck?

He’d waited a few minutes after Jennifer entered. Then he put on an oxygen mask and released the nitrogen via remote. There’d been a chance it would kill her, but at this point he didn’t care. He was so angry that she’d gotten into his business that it served her right. But at a minimum, it would knock her out long enough that he could wipe her laptop and disappear before she woke up.

Then he heard voices. He strained to listen, but he couldn’t make out the male voice. Mostly, Jennifer was doing the talking. Was she telling someone what she’d found? Who?

Then he heard, “Jennifer? Are you okay?”

A minute later, silence. He waited a few more minutes just to be on the safe side.

Okay, just a small hiccup, he’d thought, and was about to leave his hiding spot when he heard someone come in through the front door. A woman, on the phone with emergency services. He was stuck. If he left the room, she’d see him.

Then, chaos. He was stuck in a bedroom. Fearing discovery, he crawled under the bed and waited. He heard paramedics and a few minutes later, the police. Lots of people in and out of the house. Someone opened the door, looked around the room. By the person’s durable black boots, it was a cop. They walked out, but left the door open. Now he was really trapped under the bed!

The thief hadn’t left any trace of himself, but if he didn’t retrieve the nitrogen canisters from the vents, someone would find them. While they couldn’t be traced back to him—and he’d used gloves when handling them—he didn’t want to leave them behind. Now he might not have a choice.

He waited. No voices for a long time, and he was about to come out when he heard a very familiar voice. A lone man, on the phone.

“I need you to contact my homeowners insurance, and take down the house listing until we know what happened... The police are investigating, and the crime scene team will be here but I don’t know when... No, I don’t know if it was an accident... I don’t have to stay. They left an officer out front. I gave him the garage code... Okay, thanks. I’m heading home.”

That voice. He knew the voice.

The man started talking again. “Jennifer, it’s Logan. How are you feeling? Call me when you get this message. We need to talk.”

Logan. Logan Monroe.

Out of all the people in the world Jennifer White could reach out to about what she found, it had to be Logan Monroe.

The thief waited. He heard the door close. The cops were outside.

He had to get out before the crime scene investigators arrived.

He counted to two hundred very, very slow. Then he eased himself out. There was no way he could remove the canisters from the vents—they were too heavy. He’d had to make three trips into the house, and that was when he had his car in the garage. But he’d moved his car down the street after unloading his supplies, so he was stuck.

He left out the back, jumped the fence, and walked through the preserve until he reached the trailhead where he had parked his car. He drove straight to Jennifer White’s condo, fear and anger fueling him.

He might have to take a bolder action.

But she wasn’t there.