Max circled the block twice. Nothing had changed.
“This is a really dumb idea.” Witt would pitch a fit if he knew she’d even contemplated slipping into Bethany’s house.
“Park the car one street over,” Cameron ordered.
“You’re crazy.” But she did as she was told. After pulling the key out of the ignition, she reached into the glove compartment for her black leather gloves, tugged them on, then got out of the car. The breeze held the scent of rain. Walking to the end of the block, she headed back toward the duplex on the corner. Halfway down, she stopped at the back of the property line. The bushes were tall, but behind them was only the short, white picket fence, a duplicate of the one in front.
“You can go through the neighbor’s yard.”
She pushed aside the hedge, peered through. A swing set, a tipped-over tricycle, and no lights on. A car backfired in the distance, the sound like a gunshot. Max jumped, her heart pounding out of her chest as Cameron’s frenzied “hurry” rang in her ear.
She scrambled through the bushes, stooped over, and ran for the opposite end of the yard. The moon was bright, spotlighting her against the gray-green expanse of lawn. It seemed like miles before she finally threw herself back into the shelter of the hedgerow. Small, sharp branches stung her cheeks and forehead like needles. She hadn’t taken a breath in over a minute, and now she gasped for air.
“If you weren’t dead already,” she whispered between breaths, “I’d have to kill you for getting me into this.”
“You wanted to do it, sweetheart, but you needed me to give you the okay.”
“I notice you didn’t tell me to bring Witt this time.”
“Don’t worry. You won’t be able to keep this to yourself.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. Am I going to get caught?”
“I’m a ghost, not a fortune teller. I have no idea. But if you don’t get your sweet little ass moving, and out of this guy’s yard, you might get a bite taken out of it.”
It was then she heard the low growl. Oh shit. Where the hell had the dog come from? She clambered kitty-corner over the fence, flopped into Bethany’s backyard, then scrabbled to her feet and sprinted over to the back porch where she hunched next to the stoop. The barking started, though she could barely hear it over the roaring in her ears.
A man shouted, “Shut up, ya lousy mutt.”
Max waited bug-eyed, the breath rasping in her throat, cursing Cameron with every swear word she knew. No way to tell how long she’d crouched there, could have been a minute, could have been an hour. Her muscles cramped and her toes went numb, but the dog eventually stopped barking. Thank God. She looked at the luminous dial of her watch. Eleven-forty.
“Up and at ’em, sweetheart.”
“You’re toast, Starr.”
“Naturally. You did have me cremated, after all.”
“I should have let the worms eat you.” She see-sawed her hands up the outside of the house until she stood with her back to the wall. The door was sealed shut with more yellow tape. She’d risked life, limb and liberty for nothing. “Why didn’t you float over and check that out before you had me scaling the bushes?”
“Not to worry. Plenty of windows and other doors.”
“What other door except the one right out in front?”
A gust of wind picked up, billowed across her face, neck and breasts before smacking against the back door. The house creaked, the frame shuddered, and the cat door squeaked in and out.
She stared. “No way. I can’t fit through that.”
“The hole was made for a large dog.”
“So now you’re comparing me to a canine. Thanks.”
“Look at it.”
She climbed the two steps, hunkered down in front of the door. It certainly was bigger than she’d first realized. In fact, it looked like it had been made for a mastodon. Some security. A pre-teen could fit through, burgle the house for drug money, and be out in no time flat.
What about an anorexic sister? The first noise Bethany had heard came from the kitchen. Could her sister Jada have ... not. The girl had a key. Why use the doggie door?
“So no one would see her?” Cameron answered her unspoken question.
“I think we’re stretching.”
“Then get a move on, okay.”
She eyed the door once more. “What if I get stuck?” she whispered.
“The dog’ll bite your ass.”
The hair at her nape rose. She wasn’t afraid of small places, but there was something vulnerable about having her ass stuck in the air as she crawled through.
“Get in there or we’ll miss the first call.”
“I have twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes to get caught standing out here. Now move.”
She didn’t like the urgency in his tone. Cameron might not be a fortune teller, but his powers of intuition were positively ghostly. She got down on her hands and knees and bumped her head lightly against the small door. It popped inward. Fetid air rushed out. She sat back, held her breath.