Chapter Fifty-Three
None of the doors are unlocked. No windows left open.
Jules looks around the backyard and decides she’s come this far.
She picks up a smooth, heavy rock—one of several decorative rocks displayed near the outdoor shower.
She grips it with both hands and swings it between her legs like a little kid at the bowling alley, and then hoists it up and through the patio door.
The glass shatters into tiny pebbles like a car windshield.
She waits, frozen, listening. No alarm. No dog. No one comes running. She’s really doing this?
She’s really doing this!
The hole isn’t wide enough to squeeze through. She notices the long pole—a pool cleaner—leaning against the small changing shack. Gritting her teeth, she shoves the end of the pole into the broken glass of the patio door, then grinds it around, slowly enlarging the jagged aperture.
It feels like it takes forever but it’s been only a few seconds … she thinks. She starts to climb through the hole but then realizes there’s an easier way: She threads her arm through the gap and unlocks the inside latch. She slides the door open and steps carefully over the glass.
The place is nice, even if its vibe doesn’t fit the Bahamas. More Nantucket than Hope Town. Hardwood floors. Crown molding. Chef’s kitchen with high-end appliances.
Not a mansion but large enough for a family to vacation comfortably.
She breathes in and out for a few moments to level herself. She needs to act quickly. She rushes down the hall to the bedroom in the back. The bed is unmade, so this must be Trent Vanderman’s room.
She looks in the obvious places—the dresser drawers, the nightstand, the closet. But a serial killer keeping trophies wouldn’t stash them where they’d be easily found.
She finds a safe in the closet. No way she’s getting in there. But again, a killer wouldn’t keep tokens from his crimes somewhere so obvious. Somewhere police might search.
She tests the floorboards with her foot, searching for a hidden space. She knocks on the walls for hollow spots, rummages through the medicine cabinet in the spacious bathroom, peers in the air conditioner vents.
Nothing.
Sitting on the bed she catches her breath.
Then her heart nearly bursts at the voice.
“Don’t move, Jules.”