Nothing.
In the silence, Zoe heard the chirpingof a distant bird that should already have been in bed and the faint sound oftraffic on nearby streets. There was no sign of movement inside the house. Nota single floorboard creak.
She knocked again, exchanging a glancewith Shelley. Again, silence, almost deafeningly loud. It was no use. No onewas home—or at least, no one was coming to answer the door.
“What now?” Shelley asked.
Zoe turned, scanning the neighborhoodfrom their new vantage point. Was he there…? “I do not know,” she admitted. “Maybewe wait. If the LAPD all manage to bring in their assigned victims to safety,then maybe we request backup to break down the door.”
“Or we could see if she’s home now,”Shelley suggested, a little hesitantly.
Zoe looked at her. “What do you mean?”
Shelley took a piece of black fabric outof her back pocket. It was wrapped around something, small but with sharplines. She deftly dropped it from one hand to the other, the fabric unravelingas she did, to reveal a small lockpicking kit.
Zoe raised her eyebrows, but saidnothing. She only gave a short nod. It was probably better that a superioragent did not give the order out loud for her partner to pick a lock and breakinto a private residence, even if there did not seem to be anyone around tohear it. You never knew.
Later, perhaps, she would ask Shelleyabout that lockpicking kit and where it had come from, and how she knew how touse it.
The door clicked open after only a shortmatter of seconds, leaving Zoe to believe that Shelley not only knew how to useit but had some experience and skill. She hesitated on the threshold, givingone more look at the five cars parked alongside the street and the seeminglyempty windows of the houses around them. Seeing nothing, she followed Shelleyinside.
There was a palpable tension betweenthem as they entered Kate Campbell’s home. Without discussing it, they moved assilently as possible, easing the door closed with barely a sound and thenstanding for a second to let their eyes adjust to the gloom. Zoe tapped Shelley’sshoulder and indicated the rooms in front of them, then pointed at herself and towardthe stairs.
Shelley nodded in understanding. It wasso dark inside the house that Zoe could only pick out the areas where lightreflected off her, like the glassy surfaces of her eyes, the pale highlights ofher blonde hair, and the shiny skin at her brow and cheek where she wasbeginning to sweat.
They separated, Shelley moving into theclosest room while Zoe continued to move toward the stairs. She paused andlistened at every creak of the floor that her feet accidentally made, consciousthat she did not want to alert any hidden predator in the dark of her location.She took the stairs lightly, stepping slow and careful, the carpet mufflingalmost every sound she made.
There was no sound from downstairs,either. No noise of Shelley stepping forward or opening doors, no shout ofalarm. Her partner was good at this. Zoe pushed forward across an upstairslanding, all of her sense straining to detect any sign that they were notalone.
One by one, she cleared each of therooms, her gun in her hand but loose at her side. She was cautious. The lastthing she wanted to do was get spooked by stumbling upon the homeowner herself,possibly just woken up with an uneasy feeling that her house was being brokeninto, and shoot a civilian. The very person they were there to save. Apart fromthe other repercussions, it would be embarrassing.
The master bedroom was empty, the bednot slept in. That was a relief, but a short-lived one. The bathroom was ensuite, meaning that she had to leave the hallway behind and cross the bedroomto ensure it was empty. She didn’t like leaving the hallway unguarded, wheresomeone might slip past her, but it would have to be done.
The bathroom tiles gleamed in yellowglow from the streetlight outside. For a moment, her heart pounding, Zoeflashed a fear that she would find them splattered with blood, but they wereclean. She breathed again, moved back through the room and to the hall, andonto the next.
At last, she had checked every room onher side. There was no one here.
Zoe didn’t want to call out to Shelleyto let her know; for all she knew, her partner was silently closing in on anintruder, ready to knock a knife out of their hands and take them down. Callingout would jeopardize the caution they had made a point of exercising so far.She headed back down the stairs with quiet caution, keeping her eyes open asfar as she could make them go, trying to see more in the gloom.
“Z?” The whisper floated up from theentrance hall, like a ghost of past sound.
“It is me.” Zoe kept her voice as quietas she dared, feeling like a child letting loose her secrets into the night.
“I’m all clear.”
“Same,” Zoe said, returning her voice tonormal volume.
Shelley blew out a noisy breath,obviously relieved. “What now?”
There was a noise behind them, and Zoerecognized it as a set of keys rattling on their way to the lock. “We are aboutto find out,” she suggested.
The door opened with a casual swiftness,the motion of someone used to opening their own door and not at all expectingto see anyone behind it. Zoe and Shelley kept hold of their guns, pointing themat the floor. Just in case. There was always a chance that it wouldn’t be thehomeowner who opened the door.
There was a moment almost of comedy asthe woman looked up through her now-open doorway and saw two strange womenstanding in her hall, armed, looking back at her with suspicion. A moment inwhich none of them moved or spoke, a strange tableau of confusion.
Then she screamed, which was a shame,because Zoe had had enough time to mentally compare her face to the images shehad seen and know that it was Kate Campbell who had opened the door.
“FBI!” she shouted, because it was themost important piece of
