A Dangerous Favor by Hanna Wren

Author:Hanna Wren [Wren, Hanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Duck & Cover

The streets of New York are never empty. But they get pretty quiet on a residential block in a swanky uptown neighborhood. Waiting in the shadows on Rick Muraro’s street, there’s a good view of the houses. People arrive home after work and lock doors for the night. Finally, there’s only one guy left, a neighbor walking a chubby pug down the sidewalk.

Finally, he disappears into a house two doors down. As soon as the coast is clear, I jog down the road dressed in dark leggings, a long-sleeved shirt, and running shoes. A casual observer might think I’m out for a late-night run, but inside my fanny pack are the tools needed to enter the Muraro house; a mini flashlight, lock-pick kit, and latex gloves.

A loud scraping noise behind me makes me jump. Before I can gather the courage to turn around, a teenager on a skateboard whooshes past.

“On your left!” he yells, barely missing me.

Maybe this is a bad idea? Denning warned me to back off and that things could get dangerous. But tonight is my last chance to review the crime scene. The night of the murder was chaotic and upsetting. If I revisit the crime scene with a cooler head, there might be fresh clues—the kind Denning could bag, tag, and hide from me tomorrow.

The front of the house is quiet and lightless, crisscrossed by yellow crime scene tape. Before I lose my nerve, I slip under the tape and through Rick’s small patio gate. The basement-level door is hidden from the street. I pull on the gloves. The door is outfitted with a basic knob lock on the handle and a more complicated deadbolt above. Since the Covert Entry Training Seminar, Cody, Sam, and I have been practicing lock picking, primarily for fun but also because we know the skill might come in handy.

I pull out my tools and work on the bottom lock first. With the torque wrench, I apply light pressure and insert a Bogota rake into the lock. It takes some time, but I feel the key pins line up with the driver pin. Once the plug starts rotating, I delicately increase the pressure and close my eyes, nuancing the pick. Almost there. Sharp clicks announce my success. I feel a tingle of satisfaction in my fingers. I turn the knob, and to my surprise, the door opens. The last person in the house must not have had keys. They just locked the bottom lock and pulled the door shut.

Inside, the house is stuffy and warm. The unmistakable, coppery odor of human blood hangs in the air. Turning on the lights could alert a neighbor to my presence, so I flick on my mini flashlight. The house is quiet, and the long, darkened hallway seems to go on forever. The tiny circle of light leads me deeper into the house. The floor creaks and my heart pounds.

The only illumination in the back office creeps through French doors that open onto a small, enclosed patio out back.

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