Page 17 of Silent Target

“If I tell you, there’s no reason to keep both of us alive.”

I study her for several seconds.

She raises one eyebrow.

Smart.

Careful.

Still thinking even when she’s exhausted.

“Keep the recorder,” I say.

“Why?”

“If something happens to me, you need the evidence.”

“You aren’t planning on something happening to you.”

“I plan for everything.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It is.”

This time, the corner of my mouth moves.

Her gaze catches on it.

I open the door before I have to think about why that matters.

Rain whispers against the pavement.

I move along the sidewalk without making a sound, tracking windows, rooftops, and the spaces between parked cars.

No movement.

No fresh tire tracks near the property.

No light beneath the curtains.

No cigarette smoke drifting from the alley.

I crouch beneath the broken porch railing and inspect the front entrance.

The thin thread I left inside the doorframe remains unbroken.

Good.

But good doesn’t mean safe.

It only means the first warning wasn’t disturbed.

I circle to the back and enter through the kitchen.

The house smells like dust and old wood.

I clear the ground floor.