He would see the stepladder under the opening. Would he think it had been left that way by the workers? I didn't think he would.
I slipped one leg over the peak, down the steep side. I was straddled across it now, like I was riding a horse. Carefully, I pulled the other leg over, gripping the peak with my hands. Slowly I let my body slide down the steep slope, an inch at a time.
Inside, I heard Rick mount the stepladder. Once he was to the second step from the top, his head would be above the surface of the roofline. I hoped the moonlight wasn't bright enough for him to see my eight fingers that gripped the peak and kept me from plummeting down the other side, past the edge of the roof, and then two stories to the dirt below.
It didn't take any time at all for the pain to become excruciating. Not just in my fingers, but down the lengths of both arms. I squeezed my eyes shut, clamped my jaw tight, and breathed through the cracks between my teeth.
I was counting the seconds in my head. One thousand. Two thousand. Three thousand. Concentrating hard on the numbers so I wouldn't think about how my fingers couldn't hold on much longer. The side of my head was pressed hard against the roof, and the movements of the three people within the house gently reverberated through the lumber and to my ear. Eventually, I heard more footsteps, some muffled conversation, and then the sounds seemed to slip away.
Seconds later, they became much clearer. They were outside. Right below me. If I didn't hold on, I'd slide away and drop right on top of them. And I couldn't haul myself back over without scrabbling away at the roof with my legs, and that would make too much noise.
"I'm getting out of here," Carpington said.
"He was here!" Rick said. "I know he was here!"
"Let's go, Rick," Greenway said. "We'll never find him out here in the dark. He could be anywhere. He probably made a break for it while we were in the house. We'll get him. Don't worry about that. We'll find him at his house later."
"Fuck!" Rick said, and I could hear him kicking at something. My fingers were becoming numb. I thought I had another fifteen seconds, tops, before they let go.
"Come on," Greenway said, and I heard them moving away.
When the voices seemed a house or two distant, I drew on strength I never knew I had to get myself back over the peak, first to my waist, then one leg. I lay there for a moment, catching my breath, letting the feeling come back into my arms. From my perch, I saw the headlights of three cars come on. All three had to back up, turn around, and they left in a convoy, heading off in the direction of the sales office.
o o o
Even though I knew they were gone, I made my way back to the car moving along the edges of buildings, ducking behind front-end loaders. I wasn't taking any chances. I wanted to take a look through Stefanie's purse - it was probably too small to hold this ledger they'd been talking about, but it might offer some clues as to where I might find it. First, however, I had to get out of the neighborhood. I drove to a twenty-four-hour doughnut place on the outskirts of the subdivision and parked back by the Dumpster.
I decided the purse could wait two more minutes.
I went into the doughnut shop and swung open the door to the men's room. After taking a whiz, I stood in front of the sink and as I washed my hands took a look at myself. I looked bad. The front of my jacket, shirt, and pants were scuffed with mud and grit, and my face was smeared with dirt. I took a moment to wash up, attempted to dry myself with the hot-air machine. (I still felt my book about the guy who goes back in time to keep the inventor of this infernal gadget from ever being born was my best.)
I lined up to buy a large coffee with triple cream and two double-chocolate doughnuts. It hit me that I was running on empty in every sense of the word. I took my order to a table in the corner and surveyed my fellow customers. A couple of teenagers on a date. An old man reading the paper by himself. Two cops, evidently bucking tradition, eating muffins. Upon seeing them I tried to draw into myself, to disappear. Even though I had no reason to think they were looking for me, specifically, I couldn't help but feel I looked like a suspect.
I wolfed the doughnuts, guzzled the coffee. I exited the shop through the door furthest away from the cops and got back into my Civic. I turned on the overhead light and grabbed Stefanie's purse from behind the passenger seat. I wanted her car key. It was a thick, black plastic thing, like a rounded oversized skipping stone emblazoned with a VW symbol, with buttons for opening the trunk and locking and unlocking the doors.
So Greenway and Rick wanted a ledger Stefanie'd run off with. It was too big for Stefanie's purse. But it would fit in a car. And I knew where she'd last parked.
I turned over the engine. It was time for me to return to the scene of my crime.