Page 96 of The Shadow Friends

Ben had told her to stay on the porch, but after a moment, she couldn’t wait there any longer. She went down the steps and paused, undecided which man to follow. “Guys?”

She heard the faint tinkle of breaking glass. Oh no, they didn’t. Did they?

The front door swung open. She spun around to see Declan standing on the porch. He waved her in. “It’s okay.”

“You broke in?”

“I didn’t. Ben did.”

“I can’t believe this!”

“No one’s home. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine! We don’t have a warrant! I’m going to get canned for this.”

Declan tossed her a pair of latex gloves. “Not if you don’t get caught.”

“Where did you get these?”

“Never leave home without them.”

He walked back into the house.

“Oh, what the hell,” she muttered, and followed him inside.

Heavy drapes covered every window, and it was like walking into a cave, shut off from the outside world. Even the kitchen windows were covered, not with the traditional lacy or sheer kitchen curtains designed to let in sunlight. No, these were heavy-duty blinds, meant to block out the light. Or curious eyes.

“Someone obviously doesn’t want people looking in,” said Declan. He flipped a wall switch, and fluorescent lamps flickered on overhead.

“This feels all wrong,” said Jo.

“Was it the satellite dish or the multiple cameras that tipped you off?”

“It’s just—it’s not like anyone actually lives here.” She went to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. Inside she saw jars of condiments—relish, mustard, ketchup—but nothing perishable. No vegetables, no eggs, no meat. “It looks like no one does live here.”

“But Hannah’s car was registered to this address?” asked Declan.

“Yeah, three years ago. Now she’s living in Portland.”

“She has a PO box in Portland. But where is she?” said Declan, and he walked out of the kitchen.

She followed him down the hall, lit by fluorescent ceiling lights. Not the sort of lighting she’d ever choose for her home, but lights that reminded her of high school hallways, cold and glaring. At the end of the hall, Ben was standing in an open doorway, and Jo did not like the grin on his face. She liked even less the chunks of wood lying at his feet.

“It was faster than picking the lock,” he said, with a shrug.

She stared at the ruined doorframe. “This just gets worse and worse.”

“In this case, the end definitely justifies the means,” said Ben. “Take a look.”

Jo walked into the room and stopped, stunned by what she saw. This was no spare bedroom or home office; it looked like an electronics warehouse filled with computers and camera equipment and a bank of monitors. A thick cable snaked up the wall toward the ceiling. That satellite dish she’d seen mounted on the rooftop wasn’t for streaming Netflix or HBO; it was for another purpose entirely: communications.

Ben went to the bank of monitors, where he could see the CCTV feeds from the outdoor cameras. “I’ll have to bleach these recordings. Wouldn’t want these ending up as evidence against us.”

“You can actually do that?”

Ben gave her a look. Right, she thought. Stupid question.

“Ben,” said Declan.