I couldn't see Kelly in the mirror. She was hunkered down in the seat again.
'Are you awake?'
'I'm tired, Nick. Are we there yet?'
'I'm not going to tell you. It's going to be a surprise. Just keep down; I don't want you to sit up.'
I drove onto Hunting Bear Path, negotiating the speed bumps ultra cautiously so I could have a good look around.
Everything seemed quite normal. I could see the back of Kev's garage, but I couldn't see the front of the house yet. When I got up level, the driveway was finally exposed.
Parked outside the front door was a cop car. No problem; just look ahead, act normal.
I drove on, checking in the rearview mirror. The car's sidelights were on and there were two cops inside. The house hadn't been boarded up yet, but it was cordoned off with yellow tape.
I drove straight on; I couldn't tell if they were looking at me. Even if they did a plate check as I drove past, it wouldn't matter. They'd come up with only Big Al. If I was compromised, I'd run for it and leave Kelly here. Maybe the police would be good guys and look after her. At least that would be the logical thing to do, but there was a conflict. I'd promised that I wouldn't leave her; that promise shouldn't mean much, but it did.
I went down to the bottom of the road and turned right to get out of sight as quickly as possible, then drove a big square to get back in behind them. I reached the small parade of shops. The parking lot was about a quarter full, so we could pull in without attracting attention.
Kelly shrieked, 'We're at the stores!'
'That's right, but we can't buy anything because I haven't much money left. But we can go to the house.'
'Yesss! Can I get my Pollypockets and Yak-backs from my bedroom, too?'
'Of course you can.' I didn't have any idea what she was going on about.
I went around to the back, opened up the trunk and got out the bag, then opened her door. I threw the bag beside her and leaned in.
'Are we going to my house now?'
I started to sort out the kit I'd be needing.
'Yes. I want you to help me because I want you to show me Daddy's hidey-hole. Can you do that? It's important; he wanted me to check something. We've got to sneak in because the cops are outside. Are you going to do everything that I say?'
'Yeah, I'll do that! Can I get Pocahontas, too?'
'Yep.'
I didn't give a fuck; I'd have nodded and agreed to anything as long as she showed me the cache.
'You ready? Let's put your hood up.' It was dark and cloudy, and thankfully the road wasn't exactly built for pedestrians. We shouldn't encounter any Melissas enroute.
With the bag slung over my shoulder, I held her hand and we set off toward the house. It was nearly seven o'clock, and the street lights were on. My plan was to work our way to the back of the house so I could have a look at it and prepare to go in.
We started to walk over the vacant lot to the rear of the house, past trailers and stockpiles of girders and building materials. The mud was so treacherous in places I thought we'd lose our shoes.
Kelly was almost beside herself with excitement but fighting it hard.
'That's where my friend Candice lives!' She pointed to a house.
'I helped her with their yard sale. We got twenty whole dollars!'
'Shhh!' Smiling, I said slowly, 'We've got to be very, very quiet or the policemen will get us.'
There was a look of confusion on her face.
'Nick?'
What now?
'Yes, Kelly.' 'Why are we hiding from the police? Aren't they good guys?'
I suppose I should have anticipated that one. What could I say? She wouldn't have understood any of the 101 reasons why we'd be up to our necks in shit if the police caught us.
Even if I did have a spare couple of hours to explain them to her. Nor did I want to undermine forever her confidence in the authorities at this early stage in her life. So I lied.
'I don't think they're real cops; I think they're just dressed up like cops. They might be friends of the men who came to see Daddy.' It didn't take long for that to register.
Finally we were standing in the shadow of the neighbor's garage. I put the bag down and watched and listened. The engine of the cruiser was idling. They were less than twenty yards away on the other side of the target. I could hear a little of their radio traffic, but I couldn't make out what was being said. Now and again a car drove past, braked for the speed bumps, rattled over them, and accelerated away.
Lights were on in some of the houses, so I could see into the rooms. It had always given me a strange sort of kick doing this, like my own private viewing of a nature documentary:
human beings in their natural habitat. As young soldiers in the late seventies in Northern Ireland, part of our job was to 'lurk' hang around in the shadows, watching and listening, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone with a weapon. It was amazing what you'd see people doing in their cars or living rooms, and slightly less amazing what they'd be up to in their bedrooms. Sometimes we'd watch for hours on end, all in the line of duty. I really enjoyed it. Here, people were just doing dishes or watching TV, probably worrying about the effect of multiple murders on real estate prices.
There were no motion-detector lights at the back of the house, just standard ones with an on/ off switch by the patio doors. I remembered switching them on for a barbecue.
I stroked Kelly's hair and looked down and smiled. Then, really slowly, I started to unzip the bag and get out what I needed. I put my mouth right to her ear and whispered, 'I want you to stay here. It's really important that you look after this kit. You'll see me over there, OK?'
She nodded. Off I went.
I reached the patio doors. First things first: make sure they're locked. They were. I got my Maglite and checked to see if there were any bolts at the top and bottom of the frame.
It's no good defeating a lock if there are also bolts across;
that's one of the reasons why you try to attack a building at the point of last exit, because you know they can't be bolted again from the outside.
Normally the next thing to do would be to look for the spare key why spend an hour with the lock-picking kit if there's one hidden only a few feet away? Some people still leave theirs dangling on a string on the other side of the mailbox, or on the inside of a pet door. Others leave it under a trash can or just behind a little pile of rocks by the door. If a key is going to be left, it will nearly always be somewhere on the normal approach to the door. But this was Kev's house: I wouldn't find spare keys lying around. I put the photographer's blanket over my head and shoulders and, with the Maglite in my mouth, got to work with the lock-pick gun.
I opened the doors gently, moved the curtain aside, and looked inside the living room. The first thing I noticed was that all the curtains and shutters were closed, which was good for me because, once inside, we'd have cover. The second thing that hit me was an overpowering smell of chemicals. I tiptoed back to Kelly and whispered, 'Come on, then!'
Our shoes were caked with mud, so we took them off on the concrete step and put them in the bag. Then we went inside and I pulled the doors closed.
I held the Maglite with my middle finger and forefinger over the lens to block most of the light and kept it close to the floor so we could see our way through the living room. The carpet and underlay had been taken up, and all the furniture was pushed to one side. All that was left were the particle board sheets that the builders had used instead of floorboards.
Someone had done a good job of scrubbing the brown stains under where Kev had been lying, which explained the chemical smell. The Murder Mop people had been in; once forensics finished, it was up to the commercial companies to clear away the mess.
