truck.â
I smiled and started the car. âPull out your tracking stuff, and letâs follow Gabe.â
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It took a little bit of driving around, but we spotted Gabeâs truck parked in a housing tract on the corner of Machado Street and Lincoln.
It was the same housing tract where Chad Tuggle lived. Or had lived. âI think Gabeâs doing a little breaking and entering.â
Angel put her GPS screen, which she had been tracking Gabeâs truck on, back in her large purse. âWhy?â
âDonât know, but itâs something to do with why Dara hired him. Chances are good that itâs information connected to Chadâs murder since itâs Chadâs house.â I realized I had several reasons for desperately wanting to solve this case. Helping Janie was number one, but proving myself to Gabe ran a close second. We had been building a sort of loose partnership, both personal and business. That came to a screeching halt with his demand that I work with him without knowing the facts of Daraâs case. I meant to find out what Dara hired Gabe for.
I slowed down as we passed the street Chad lived on. His two-story house was three houses up the street. There were no cars in the driveway or in front. Gabe had parked two streets over.
Two could play at this game.
I went one street the other way and parked. âCome on, letâs see if we can find out what Gabeâs doing.â
We got out of the car. We walked around the block in the cool after-rain sunshine. âHow do we get in?â Angel asked.
I considered that. âMy guess would be the side garage door. Chad always left that unlocked during his soccer games. When Iâd been team mom for him, he sent me back to his house lots of times to get stuff heâd forgotten.â
Quickly, we passed the first two houses on the street. Chadâs house was cream stucco with a peach trim. Approaching on the garage side of the house, I motioned to Angel to follow me. Quietly I went up to the six-foot wood fence and pulled the string to release the latch on the gate.
The rain had made the wood swell, and I had to shove to get the gate open. I prayed Gabe didnât hear anything. We stood on the long strip of cement that ran the length between the house and the fence. Straight ahead opened up into a small yard. I could spot half of the fishpond. There was a built-in pool hidden by the house from were we stood. Janie had hosted many team swimming parties so I knew exactly how the backyard was laid out.
Our goal was the door on our left, which led into the three-car garage. Walking softly in my boots, I reached out and tried the doorknob.
It turned.
My blood started pounding in my ears. What if Gabe was in the garage?
What if the killer was in the garage?
What if a vicious dog was in the garage?
âSam?â Angel whispered behind me.
âRight.â I needed to find out what Gabe was after. No more stalling. I reached into my purse and pulled out a canister of pepper spray. Then I turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open. The garage was dark and smelled like a wet blanket.
I stepped inside, followed by Angel.
As my eyes adjusted, light from the opened door showed a workbench, tools, and on the far side of the garage, one of those all-in-one weight things bolted to a support pillar. It looked like it came straight off an infomercial. All that was missing were the male and female hard-body models discussing how they only used the machine five minutes a day for a week.
No cars were in the garage. Chadâs Explorer must have been at work when he was killed. Had the police impounded it? Would he have hidden the soccer money in his car?
I turned to the white door that led through the laundry room into the house. Glancing at Angel, I whispered, âMaybe we should have some kind of plan.â
Angel gathered her long red-with-black-tips hair into a ponytail, then twisted it up on her
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
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