a huge plastic container.
“How can you drink that sugary garbage?” Neil asked crossly.
“Sugar’s energy, my friend,” Pete said, backing up, then pulling into traffic.
You aren’t my friend
, Neil thought sadly.
Never will be
.
The stucco house painted a desert brown was so well camouflaged by the surrounding shrubs and trees that a passerby might
well miss it, Terry thought as she peered out through the windshield. In the headlights of the van, she could see that the
structure was two stories high backing up to a rising hill, the property completely enclosed by a chain-link fence. Luke had
jumped out and opened the padlocked gate with a key from his pocket, then hurried back to drive through before relocking the
fence.
“Who owns this place?” she asked as he climbed back in.
“The Bureau. Confiscated a while back during a drug bust.”
Staring out at the overgrown bushes trailing onto the pebble drive, Terry frowned. “It looks neglected.”
“They deliberately keep the yard this way. It discourages visitors.” Luke pulled the van close up to the attached garage door.
“You two sit tight while I have a look around.” Taking his high-beam flashlight, he stepped out into a light drizzle. Once
in the yard, he reached for his .38 before disappearing around back.
“He’s the most cautious man I’ve ever met,” Terry said to Sara.
“Honey, that kind of caution will keep you alive.” Sara stretched her long legs. “I think we’ll all be glad to get into a
real bed.”
Terry felt tired and stiff, but not necessarily sleepy. She’d watched the storm blow off to sea and settle into a light rainfall
as they passed through the coastal towns. After they’d eaten, Sara had dozed, but Terry’d been too curious to drop off. She’d
asked only one question of Luke, why he wasn’t taking the highway instead of the slower inland route. He’d explained that
it was more difficult to follow them through the rural roads where there were always plenty of turnoffs. She figured he probably
was right.
She’d seen the sign indicating that they were on the outskirts of Carmel, and had sat up straighter when Luke had told her
they were almost at their destination. With Lynn, she’d visited the small artists’ colony last summer, and they’d both loved
the town. Never had she dreamed that one day she’d be hiding out from a killer in the same peaceful area.
“No one asks too many questions around here,” Luke had volunteered when he’d seen her interested look. “It’s sort of an unspoken
rule that people here believe in live and let live, respecting one another’s privacy. That’s one reason I use this safe house
whenever I can.”
They passed an ice-cream parlor and an arcade of shops. “I don’t suppose we’ll be able to come into town?” she’d asked hopefully.
“We’ll see,” he’d answered in the maddening tone a father might use on a pesky child.
Suddenly floodlights illuminated the yard just before Luke stepped out of the front door. Terry saw that heavy black wrought
iron shielded each window and nearly groaned aloud. While the practical side of her knew thatmade the house even safer, she hated the prisonlike feel of protected windows.
Luke opened her door and helped her down while Sara climbed out of the van’s sliding door. He turned on lights inside, then
went back out to bring in their luggage. Terry stretched her sore muscles before taking a look around.
It was a surprise to find that the place, though quite old, was far cozier than she’d expected. A stone fireplace in the corner
of the living room, a long corduroy couch, deep comfortable chairs, a cluttered bookcase, and several colorful pillows. A
narrow archway led into a dining room with a wooden table, and past that she could see the kitchen. The colors were golds
and browns with a touch of orange, circa 1970. The only criticism she might have were the heavy drapes covering
“How can you drink that sugary garbage?” Neil asked crossly.
“Sugar’s energy, my friend,” Pete said, backing up, then pulling into traffic.
You aren’t my friend
, Neil thought sadly.
Never will be
.
The stucco house painted a desert brown was so well camouflaged by the surrounding shrubs and trees that a passerby might
well miss it, Terry thought as she peered out through the windshield. In the headlights of the van, she could see that the
structure was two stories high backing up to a rising hill, the property completely enclosed by a chain-link fence. Luke had
jumped out and opened the padlocked gate with a key from his pocket, then hurried back to drive through before relocking the
fence.
“Who owns this place?” she asked as he climbed back in.
“The Bureau. Confiscated a while back during a drug bust.”
Staring out at the overgrown bushes trailing onto the pebble drive, Terry frowned. “It looks neglected.”
“They deliberately keep the yard this way. It discourages visitors.” Luke pulled the van close up to the attached garage door.
“You two sit tight while I have a look around.” Taking his high-beam flashlight, he stepped out into a light drizzle. Once
in the yard, he reached for his .38 before disappearing around back.
“He’s the most cautious man I’ve ever met,” Terry said to Sara.
“Honey, that kind of caution will keep you alive.” Sara stretched her long legs. “I think we’ll all be glad to get into a
real bed.”
Terry felt tired and stiff, but not necessarily sleepy. She’d watched the storm blow off to sea and settle into a light rainfall
as they passed through the coastal towns. After they’d eaten, Sara had dozed, but Terry’d been too curious to drop off. She’d
asked only one question of Luke, why he wasn’t taking the highway instead of the slower inland route. He’d explained that
it was more difficult to follow them through the rural roads where there were always plenty of turnoffs. She figured he probably
was right.
She’d seen the sign indicating that they were on the outskirts of Carmel, and had sat up straighter when Luke had told her
they were almost at their destination. With Lynn, she’d visited the small artists’ colony last summer, and they’d both loved
the town. Never had she dreamed that one day she’d be hiding out from a killer in the same peaceful area.
“No one asks too many questions around here,” Luke had volunteered when he’d seen her interested look. “It’s sort of an unspoken
rule that people here believe in live and let live, respecting one another’s privacy. That’s one reason I use this safe house
whenever I can.”
They passed an ice-cream parlor and an arcade of shops. “I don’t suppose we’ll be able to come into town?” she’d asked hopefully.
“We’ll see,” he’d answered in the maddening tone a father might use on a pesky child.
Suddenly floodlights illuminated the yard just before Luke stepped out of the front door. Terry saw that heavy black wrought
iron shielded each window and nearly groaned aloud. While the practical side of her knew thatmade the house even safer, she hated the prisonlike feel of protected windows.
Luke opened her door and helped her down while Sara climbed out of the van’s sliding door. He turned on lights inside, then
went back out to bring in their luggage. Terry stretched her sore muscles before taking a look around.
It was a surprise to find that the place, though quite old, was far cozier than she’d expected. A stone fireplace in the corner
of the living room, a long corduroy couch, deep comfortable chairs, a cluttered bookcase, and several colorful pillows. A
narrow archway led into a dining room with a wooden table, and past that she could see the kitchen. The colors were golds
and browns with a touch of orange, circa 1970. The only criticism she might have were the heavy drapes covering
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