Chapter 22 #2
If I find the right angle, she’ll start ranting about everything that’s happening, and then my only job will be to steer the conversation occasionally. Before I decide on my next comment, she continues.
“Although, Henley and Montank rented out a couple of houses for two of their newest. Lovely people. We visited them when they moved in. It’s so nice to have some people of culture around. They’re from Manhattan, you know.”
“They’re staying here?” I ask, already knowing the answer, but fishing for details Fiona and I will be able to use.
“You don’t have to say it like that. This is the nicest neighborhood in Kalomish.
We set them up in a pair of homes over on Cedar Avenue, the ones near the highway.
Those were the only places next to each other.
Although we have no shortage of empty houses.
I told your father the plans for the Estates were too big, but of course he knew better.
You know, we never sold a third of the properties?
But we can’t lower the asking prices. That would attract the wrong sort…
” She continues with the stream of consciousness, but my mind wanders to planning next steps since I have the info I came here to get.
The two execs are staying in houses bordering the eastern edge of the development closest to the highway.
After nodding along and dropping the occasional “Uh huh,” or “Really?” I seize on a pause in the judgment-filled gossip to extricate myself. “I’m glad things are mostly normal, then, and you two are doing fine. I guess if you don’t need any help, I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Leaving already? You know, you have to fix things with your father. This rift is ruining our family. I know he’d be thrilled to have you back. You’re meant for more than just working at your grandmother’s restaurant.”
“There’s nothing wrong with people doing actual work or being involved in the community instead of hiding away, mom.” I step forward and give her a brief hug, then walk outside.
Once I’m back in my car, I adjust my route to drive past those houses on my way out. I need to get their addresses and ensure we can access them without being seen.
When I finally approach the southeast corner, I slow down and snap some pictures of both houses, making sure the street numbers are included.
The windows and one of the front doors look the same as my mom’s, but the second house has a more ornate glass door than the classical wood style.
I zoom as far as possible, but I doubt the lock will be identifiable.
I don’t want to stop in front of the houses, so I drive on, having gathered what info I could. I’ll look up the rest online.
Time to get to work.
The door buzzer blares. It’s Fiona. I press the button to give her access to the building.
She seemed annoyed by my standing in the doorway previously, so I unlock my apartment door and return to the kitchen.
I’ve spent the last few hours cleaning and cooking.
I place a pair of plates and two sets of cutlery on the counter to do something with my hands as much as to be ready when the oven is done.
There’s a light knock at the door. “It’s open,” I call out. When I turn, Fiona is stepping into my apartment. She’s wearing a deep green shirt that contrasts perfectly with her brown hair—which is down, fanning around her shoulders—and accentuates her eyes.
After she closes and locks the door, she turns to face me, smirking. “Something wrong, Tre?”
“No, no. That’s just a really good color on you. Highlights your eyes,” I explain.
“Right. That’s what you’re staring at, my eyes.”
“Um, anyway. Thanks for coming,” I say with a small wave. Why did I wave? I wonder, feeling dumb.
“Yeah, your note said you have info you couldn’t pass along at the diner.”
“Right. It’s all over here.” I point, walking to the kitchen island.
Fiona’s eyes scan the apartment as she makes her way over. “Whatever you’re making smells good.”
A legitimate compliment. Nice, I’ll take it, I think.
“Thanks. I figured I should make dinner, since I’m taking up your evening.
And before you say anything, no, it’s not a date.
I heard what you said, and it’s like I told you the first time: I asked you here to plan during dinnertime, so I’m providing food.
It’s not a big deal. No ulterior motives. ”
“How long do you expect this will take? I thought I was picking up some files.” She’s definitely side-eyeing me now.
“You are.” I point again to the folder. “But we never have a chance to talk about any of this, so I figured you could look it over, ask me questions, let me know what I missed, and talk about what we do next if you have enough info.”
As if on cue, the oven timer beeps. “Take a look while I grab this,” I tell her as I put on the oven mitts and pull the baking dish out, setting it on the stove. Paper rustles behind me while I plate food.
“Is this… hand-drawn?”
I glance at the paper on top and reply, “Yeah. I don’t own a printer, so I used a ruler and a pencil.” I shrug and gather the plates, setting them on the island and pouring us each a glass of Chardonnay. “Plus, I’ve heard that every printer can be traced. I was thorough.”
Fiona’s absorbed in the files and doesn’t look at the food until I take a seat next to her. She glances at the plate and returns her focus to the paper, then does a double-take worthy of a cartoon.
“You made this? It doesn’t seem like no big deal.”
“It’s only roasted chicken and potatoes. You don’t have to eat it.”
She looks at me silently for a moment and then reaches over to try some.
I wonder if she’s simply taking a pity bite to get me to leave her alone, so I make myself useful while she’s busy, explaining about the information Creepy Eddie had, plus what I learned from my mom.
Then I direct her attention back to the folder.
“You’ve already seen that I drew the layouts of the two houses.
The dimensions are in feet for each wall and the property lines, as well as the distances to the nearby houses, the road, and the forest. On the other side, there’s a less detailed map of the development and surrounding area, measured in miles.
The neighborhood is encircled by the highway to the south, the golf course on the north and west, and state forest land to the east. The two houses we want back onto the forest, and I’ve marked a trail we can use to get close. ”
“We can just walk into their yard from the outside?” Fiona asks skeptically.
“The perimeter is surrounded by a five-foot-tall wrought-iron fence, so basically, yes. I’ve included a page of notes about the security guards and cameras, but as long as we don’t scare anybody, they’ll never know we were there.”
Fiona washes the chicken down with the last of her wine and slides her plate aside. She’s all business now. “What about the houses? Do they have alarms?”
I pause with my forkful of potato halfway to my mouth and shake my head.
“The whole place is way more interested in security theater to make the residents feel like they have personal security than actually being competent. Each house was built with a landline straight to the office—I guess having concierge guards is appealing—and supposedly there’s some sort of panic button they can press to send an alert to the security office, but nothing that would automatically trigger.
These two houses never sold and have only been rented for a couple of weeks, so nothing has been customized or updated. ”
“Okay. No cameras and no alarm systems to trip. What about motion-activated lights outside?”
“That’s one thing I’m not certain of. There were floodlights on some of the other houses, but not on any of the unused ones, so the best I can say is probably not.
I obviously didn’t get out and walk into anyone’s backyard to investigate, but from what I see on street maps online, it doesn’t look like it.
Those aren’t high-resolution close-up shots, though. ”
“Online street maps? Is that where you got the layout details, too?” Fiona asks.
“No, there’s a ton of information available about every property in county records, which you can search online.
I put details about each house on separate pages in the folder.
” I reach across her to flip the edges of pages down to show one in the back, pressing against her arm as I do.
Warmth spreads between us, and my face flushes.
Fiona turns to me, and although we’re too close now, she doesn’t pull away. “Is there a record of you looking those up?”
I shake my head again. “I used a VPN and an anonymous browser, like you said. County records don’t require an account to search. I looked on maps, but never actually put in addresses. I just scrolled and zoomed to what I needed.”
“This is really well done, Tre.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Thank you.”
“What? I give credit where it’s due. This is better than I expected the first time I was here.” Fiona smiles. Her eyes are piercing right through me. We’re close enough that I can see her pupils widening.
Say something, idiot. It’s your turn to talk. Don’t screw this up.
Fiona continues, “Speaking of which, your place is back to looking like it’s been staged for a magazine shoot.” The smirk is back on her face. That look used to infuriate me, but right now I’m struggling not to kiss those mocking lips.
I let go of the files and let my hand rest on her forearm. “I knew you were coming this time.”
“And you wanted to impress me?”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations. You succeeded,” she says softly, then leans forward and presses her mouth to mine.
My eyes go wide as I part my lips, then close as her tongue glides over mine. I slide my arm around her waist. My face is burning now, and I desperately want more.
Fiona’s hand is gripping the back of my head as she pulls me toward her. I reach for the bottom of her shirt with my other hand and feel the soft skin underneath. My cock is hardening as my fingers graze her ribs.
Then I drop away from her face, and my hands fly loose as I fall to my knees. I kept getting closer and closer and slid right off the damn stool.
“Shit! Sorry,” I mutter, refusing to look up at her. Idiot!
All I hear is laughter as Fiona leans back. My face is on fire for an entirely different reason as I rise to my feet.
She stands up as well and takes hold of my hand.
“Does this mean—”
She cuts me off. “Shut up and kiss me.”