Even Money by Stephanie Caffrey

Author:Stephanie Caffrey [Caffrey, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

My mouth immediately became drier than the cool Nevada air outside. We had both heard something, something that sounded like a door opening, but then nothing had happened. Normally someone walks in a door and then flips on a light and goes about their normal business. But now all we heard was a deafening silence.

Even in the dim light, I could see that Carlos had frozen in place, just like I had, waiting to see what would happen next. It occurred to me that we were completely and utterly trapped. The bedroom we were in had only the one exit, and so if someone was actually in the house, we'd be pinned there with no way out.

We listened, straining to discern even the slightest hint of movement, but the silence continued on unabated. In the near blackness I was attempting to make eye contact with Carlos, but his head was still tilted sideways, like a hawk homing in on a mouse a hundred yards away.

And that's when we heard it, the unmistakable sound of a light switch flipping on. What followed were a few hesitant steps causing the floorboards to creak.

"Hello?" a man's voice called.

Instinctively, we both remained silent, hoping to wait it out. The steps had frozen, as though the man was straining to hear us thinking.

"Anyone here?" he asked again, a little more confidently. The voice didn't sound at all familiar.

Again, we kept mum.

After about ten seconds the man began moving again. We heard the refrigerator door open, and a bottle of something was placed on the counter. A drawer opened, followed by the whoosh of the bottle as he opened it. This was a good sign, I figured. People who believed they had intruders in the house didn't go and grab a beer out of the fridge.

What had we done to make him suspicious? We hadn't moved anything in the kitchen, and all of the lights in the house had remained off. The window. We'd left the window open behind us. But an open window didn't necessarily mean anything. He hadn't gone into a panic about it. Now the question was whether he was going to enjoy his beer in the kitchen or bring it into the office where Carlos and I were crouching down like gargoyles.

I could hear Carlos's soft breathing next to me. Unlike me, he wasn't hyperventilating. The expression on his face, to the extent it was visible, was one of calm consideration. At that moment I resolved to pay him more.

We heard steps and the creaking of more floorboards. And then, in the silence that ensued, we heard the bottle being placed back on the counter or a table. And then a soft click. It was the click of a door being closed, but it wasn't the door through which he'd entered.

Carlos turned to me. "He's in the bathroom! Let's go!" he whispered.

I stood up and spirited myself out through the kitchen and tried to open the door as silently as possible. Carlos was right behind me.

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