Scenarios pass through my mind like action-movie trailers. I need a better plan. Something that’s not going to end up looking like a scene from Kill Bill.
Moving through the hedges to the left, I look in on a bedroom. Although the light’s on, no one’s in there and nothing is out of place—it looks unused. I don’t dare turn the corner to follow along the back of the house, since I’m pretty sure I could be seen from the barracks if I did. So, shuffling behind the hedges I head back to the porch the way I came, passing the office and a huge front hallway complete with winding marble staircase.
To the right of the hallway is this vast library-looking room, with taxidermied heads of every sort of animal you can think of. I move from window to window, getting a full view.
There’s a big fireplace, complete with fake fire glowing inside the hearth. Though bookcases line the walls, there are very few actual books. Instead, the shelves are filled with guns, knives, and other hunting objects placed on little stands like they’re works of art. At the far side, there’s a door, and through the next window I see that it opens into a long hallway with doorways on either side. The door across from the library leads to a multi-car garage. A Hummer, a Rolls-Royce, and the doctor’s sedan are parked inside. Outside is the ATV I saw Juneau arrive in with Whit and the guards.
I make my way around the side of the garage, and see that the house continues behind it. The only window on that side looks into a kind of den-looking space. The lights are off, but by the glow of a cable box I make out an enormous flat-screen TV.
And I don’t dare go farther, since the barracks are just down the hill from the back of the house. I step back and look up at the second floor. It is dark, except in the corner room above the den, directly above me, where a soft light glows from the window.
Poe has been following me around the house, hopping from position to position as I peer into the windows. I wonder if I can send him up to look through the window and then Read his mind when he comes back. “Go up there,” I whisper, pointing toward the window. He cocks his head to one side and stares at me.
I make the clicking noise and bend down to pick him up. I hold him against my chest and look up at the window, and then close my eyes and picture him flying up to it. I let him go. Squawking and flapping a bit, he lands on the ground and walks a safe distance away from me, then resumes his staring. Bird wrangling is obviously not one of the skills the Yara provides, I think.
I glance back up at the window. It looks like I’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way. I shake the drainpipe running down from the roof gutters to see how sturdy it is. Sturdy enough.
Placing my crossbow on the ground, I grab the pipe. And using the white bricks as footholds, I shuffle my way up the side of the building until I’m at window-level. Leaning sideways, and grasping the sill for stability, I find myself looking into a bedroom lit only by a small lamp. Next to it sits a woman in a white uniform—the kind a housekeeper or nurse would wear. She reads a book and casts occasional glances toward the bed.
I lean farther and see a young child in pajamas lying on top of the covers. The lighting is too dim to make much out besides the fact that it has dark hair, and is toddler-age. So Avery has a kid, I think. Either his wife’s not around, or they have a full-time nanny, which wouldn’t surprise me. And then I remember the note that Poe brought from Juneau’s dad. Avery took a three-year-old from the clan when they tried to escape. This must be that child. I’ve seen all there is to see in the room, so I slide back down the drainpipe and take a minute to mull over things.
Juneau and the others must be in one of the interior rooms. I didn’t see a kitchen, so it must be on the far side of the house facing the barracks. They could be there. They’re not on the top floor, unless they’re sitting around in the dark. Judging from the depth of the rooms, and the enormity of the house, I’m guessing there are one or two rooms in the middle.
I walk back around the garage and peer in the window looking into the hallway. Halfway down, there is a door on the left-hand side with a security panel next to it—the kind with numbers to type a code into. A windowless room could be a bathroom, but I doubt even Avery’s bathroom holds something valuable enough to need a password. Could be a prison—his own personal dungeon—or a safe, or something else he doesn’t want his goons to wander into.