True, the boundaries of the property were protected. But if an intruder somehow got onto the grounds, he would face no further obstacles except the locks on the doors and the latches on the window screens.
In the dining area Charles started telling his story about the tennis tournament in Ojai. He thought the Danforths hadn’t heard it, but in fact he’d recounted the anecdote to them just last month at the country club.
Maybe he was wrong about this too.
Her mind made up, Barbara lifted the cordless handset and touched 9-1-1.
8
Crawling again, dragging the duffel bag, Cain approached the front door.
Through the bay window he could see Charles Kent, having returned to the dining area, serving coffee to his guests. A well-dressed man, Mr. Kent, tanned and urbane.
Nearly time to strike. By now the others must be ready.
Tyler and Lilith were at the northwest corner of the house, where a side door opened onto an east-west hallway. The hall led past the cellar door and the laundry nook, into the kitchen.
Blair was on the patio. Via the back door he would enter a rear hallway which fed into the dining area. Gage would join him when it was time to go in.
That left only Cain himself. He would use the front door at the house’s southwest corner. It opened on a small foyer that would permit him to enter without being seen.
Kitchen, rear hall, foyer-the only exits from the living room and dining area.
Each escape route soon would be cut off.
His radio buzzed. It was Gage. “She’s on the phone.”
Cain needed a moment to register the information.
She. Barbara Kent, of course. On the phone. There was a phone in the kitchen.
Calling the police. Hell, was she calling the police
The telephone line always had been a weak link in the operation. Cutting it would have been a sound tactical move. But if the phone service was interrupted for any reason, an alarm automatically would be triggered at the security system’s central monitoring station.
“What do we do now” Gage asked.
Cain didn’t hesitate. “We’re committed. No going back.”
“If she got a look at Gage”-the demurring voice was Blair’s-“she might’ve called for a squad car.”
A gnat whined close to Cain’s ear. He caught it in a gloved hand, snuffed it between thumb and forefinger.
“We can handle a squad car,” he said coolly.
No one disagreed.
9
“All units.” The dispatcher’s voice crackled over the radio.
“We’ll take it,” Pete Wald said.
Leaning forward, Trish unclipped the microphone and keyed the mike. “Four-Adam-eight-one. What’ve you got, Lou”
Lou was Louise, one of two night-watch dispatchers. The other was Thelma. They’d both caught their share of grief about that.
“Caller reports a possible ten-seventy,” Lou said in her cigarette-froggy rasp. “Twenty-five hundred Skylark Drive.”
Wald gunned the engine, the Caprice speeding up. Trish’s heart accelerated with it.
A 10-70 was a prowler call.
“Get the details,” Wald said.
Lou didn’t need to be asked. “Nine-eleven operator says the caller was sort of vague. Might’ve seen an intruder in her backyard in some bushes or trees. Just a glimpse-dark clothes, no other description. Funny thing is, they’ve got a security fence, and the alarm didn’t ring. You want backup”
Trish looked at Wald, his face lit from below by the spectrum of colors from the dashboard. He shook his head.
“Negative,” Trish said into the microphone. “We’ll handle it.”
“I’ll have another unit in the area just in case.”
“Copy that. We’re en route, code two high. Ten-four.”
In answer Lou read off the time military-style. “Twenty-oh-five.” It was the one formality she consistently observed.
Wald shot onto a side street at sixty but left the light bar and siren unactivated. Only a code three call permitted their continuous use.
“The Ashcroft place.” He frowned to himself.
Trish replaced the microphone and waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she asked the obvious question. “Is that where we’re going”
Wald nodded. “Actually I’m the only one who still calls it by that name. It’s been the Kent place ever since Charles Kent became man of the house. Maybe sixteen, seventeen years ago.”
“Where is it”
“Way up in the mountains.”
As if to punctuate the thought, Wald veered onto a branching road that came out of nowhere, a two-lane rural route twisting northwest into the foothills.
“Lake there,” he added. “Most of the area around it is woods. State park and a picnic area. Mr. and Mrs. Kent’s house is the only residence. Only one for miles.”
“Isolated.”
“Very. Twenty-five hundred Skylark is the end of the world.”
Half hidden in stands of pine, trailers and mobile homes swept past. The Chevy’s high beams carved twin funnels out of the dark, illuminating a double yellow line to the left, a smear of guardrail to the right. Ruts bounced the sedan on its shocks.
“Why’d Lou think we needed backup” Trish asked.
“On a prowler call it’s not a bad idea to have more than one unit on hand.”
“So why’d we turn it down”
“Because the alarm wasn’t tripped. Caller just saw a dark shape. Could be anything. Out in the boonies, like where we’re headed now, nine times out of ten it’s a raccoon. They grow pretty damn big out there, and they prowl at night.”
“I see.” Her voice caught on the second word.
Wald gave her another, sharper look. “Nervous”
She wanted to deny it, but after all, he was her training officer, and she had to be honest with him.
Even so, she hedged a little in her answer. “Sort of.”
“You should be.”
“I thought it was probably a raccoon.”
“Nine times out of ten, I said. But there’s always that tenth time. That’s when you need to be fully alert.”
“I’m real alert right now.”
“Good.”
The Chevy barreled higher into the mountains. Through the open windows the warm night rushed in. It was the final weekend in August, but in southern California summer lingered to the end of October. The worst heat was still to come.
Trish watched the last homes melt away, and then there was only a dark blur of trees.
“How much farther” she asked.
“Three, four miles.”
At this speed, no time at all.
The wire mesh partition behind her rattled loosely. On a switchback curve her shoulder harness locked, exerting brief, painful pressure on her right breast until the strap disengaged.
She swallowed, wishing her mouth weren’t so dry.
Nervous Sure. Frightened, even.
But below her fear she was conscious of a not-unpleasant thrill of adrenaline.
This was what she’d wanted, after all. This was why she’d sweated and trained, why she’d endured long days and sore muscles and relentless hectoring-to wear a blue uniform, to charge into danger in response to a distress call in the night.
She only hoped …
Hoped she wouldn’t …
“You get over it.” Wald’s voice startled her.
“What”
“Opening night jitters. You get over it.”
She tried a smile of her own. “I thought it was good to be scared.”
“There are two kinds of fear. Fear of what might happen-and fear of how you might screw up. You get over the second kind.”
How you might screw up. That was it, all right. That was the real fear coiling in her stomach and stopping her breath.
Trish wondered how Wald had known about that, how he’d been able to get inside her head and dissect her feelings.