“I don’t know. But I’ll think of something, I promise.”
CHAPTER 48
Kaplan watched the back of Annie’s house for ten minutes. His first thought had been to call the police. They would no doubt come to the door, yell a few times, then break the door down. By then Jake and Beth may already be dead…and Annie too. No, he had to handle this himself. He was familiar enough with the house to know the entire floor plan and furniture layout. He planned to use that to his advantage.
Getting inside without being spotted might be a problem. He knew she would have someone watching the windows, probably the big man. The only access from the alleyway would leave him exposed as he entered the back yard. Regardless of whether he entered through the gate or climbed over the fence, he would be visible and vulnerable. That left the Oglethorpe Street access, the only blind spot.
The west approach to the house on Oglethorpe was too visible. The view from inside the house offered a clean view of the sidewalk. He would certainly be spotted on an approach attempt from that direction.
The east approach from Oglethorpe was the only viable option. It offered protection from the windows’ view. The stair access and a large magnolia tree blocked the view from inside the house. Unless someone was on the front steps standing watch, he would be shielded from view. He was confident no one would be outside.
The mid-afternoon sun was bright and warm. Kaplan had ridden his Harley into town this morning and parked it behind the courthouse just a few blocks away. He wore jeans, his riding boots, and a black long-sleeved Harley shirt. He pushed the banded sleeves up toward his elbows in a vain attempt to cool down.
Retreating down the alleyway back to Lincoln Street, he circled north and east to Habersham Street, then back south to Oglethorpe. The houses that lined the block on Oglethorpe were close, very close, usually standing no more than three to four feet apart. This offered access to the backyard between the houses. He knew that a narrow gate belonging to Annie’s neighbor blocked the path between the two houses.
He crept west on Oglethorpe toward Annie’s house, keeping as close as possible to the neighboring houses to cut off the viewing angle from Annie’s windows. No sense risking the only chance he had to get in sight unseen.
Reaching the corner of Annie’s house, Kaplan looked at the gate. It was padlocked. The gate had never been padlocked before, so the owner of the home next door must have locked it because of the St. Patrick’s Day crowd. It was an older lock but a sturdy one.
He checked the gate’s hinges. Solid. To climb over the gate would either draw unwanted attention to him or it would make him clearly visible to the window in the living room where the curtains were slightly open. Neither of which he wanted to do.
He checked the padlock again. A little play in the locking mechanism, maybe enough to break it loose with a hard blow. He looked around and the only thing he saw that might work was a brick. Several bricks were stacked underneath the stairwell landing of Annie’s front door. The landing was at the top of a concrete block stairwell leading up to the second level entrance.
He picked up a brick and stood next to the gate waiting, watching for a chance to smash the lock with the brick without being seen or heard. His chance came, no cars or pedestrians approaching, so he swung and smashed the brick down hard on the padlock. Nothing happened.
He turned and looked around, holding the brick behind his back. No one showed any interest. He waited. An elderly couple approached and he smiled at them as they walked by in front of him. They were talking about the weather and the parade and paid him no attention. As they moved out of range, a teenage boy walked toward Kaplan. The boy’s head was bobbing up and down and he was singing. He had earpieces in each ear with white wires leading down to his iPod. The volume was loud enough for Kaplan to hear the beat.
After the boy passed, Kaplan turned and smashed the brick against the padlock a second time. The brick crumbled into pieces and fell onto the sidewalk. Then he heard Annie’s deadbolt click.
He ducked under the landing. Standing only two feet beneath Annie’s door, he heard someone step out onto the landing. He pressed his body as close to the concrete block as possible, ducking slightly under the steps. Then he heard a voice call back into the house.
“No one out here but some kid with an iPod.”
The assassin.
The door closed and the deadbolt clicked back into place. He didn’t move. After two minutes he moved toward the gate looking for something else to use to break the padlock. Then he saw it. A pile of crumbled brick at the foot of the gate and the padlock hanging open in the latch.
He removed the lock, opened the gate, went inside and closed the gate behind him. The soil beneath his feet was wet. Just wet dirt, no weeds, no grass, no vegetation of any kind.
Damp. Musty. Cold. The narrow strip of dirt between the houses never saw any direct sunlight.
As soon as he closed the gate, he realized he was in the wrong back yard. He scaled the eight-foot privacy fence into Annie’s yard, and crept along the back of her house to the garage. He ducked into her garage out of sight.
Just like when he was in Special Forces, reaching his target objective proved to be the easy part, gaining access and entry would be the hard part.
CHAPTER 49
The drapes were drawn closed. The only light in the living room emanated from three lamps and the afternoon glow coming down the hallway from the kitchen windows. Jake saw Jillian walking down the hall from the kitchen with something in her hands. Bright light from the window revealed only her silhouette until she walked into the light from the lamps. She carried four beer bottles, set them on a table and then walked back into the kitchen.
Ian Collins stepped into view from behind her with two beer bottles and a gun.
Jake and Beth were sitting next to each other on the leather sofa. The bleeding had stopped. Jake’s blood-soaked shirt had been removed.
Jillian walked in with one of Kaplan’s shirt draped over her arm and something in her hand. She asked, “Has the bleeding stopped?”
Beth answered, “Yes, for now.”
“Good, let’s glue it closed.”
“What do you mean?” Jake asked.
“I’ll show you. This might sting a little.” Jillian took a tube of Super Glue and applied a bead down the length of the cut. Then she applied a piece of white medical tape on top of the wound to cover it, gluing it down as she went.
“There you go. That should hold and keep it from pulling open again.”
“Where’d you learn that?” Beth asked.
“Actually, believe it or not, it was Ian’s idea. He said he’s done it to himself many times and I’m sure he probably has.”
Jillian stood, walked over to the table and then walked back and stood in front of Jake and Beth and held out two bottles of Guinness Draught.
“Take these and drink up,” Jillian commanded.
“Go to hell.” Jake crossed his arms.
“No,” Beth knocked both bottles from Jillian’s hands sending them crashing to the floor.
Jillian slapped Beth. “Bitch.”
McGill stepped forward. “What the hell is this all about?”
“Come on, Pat, we’ve been over this already. We can’t let them live, they know too much,” Jillian said.
“That’s enough. I’ll handle this.” Collins stepped into the light and placed the silencer next to Beth’s right temple.
His hard eyes looked down at Jake. “Drink up, both of you. If you don’t, I’ll start with her. I’ll make you watch. I’ll do things to her, things you won’t like. Then I’ll kill her, right in front of your eyes. Can you live with that, Mister Pendleton?”