Voyeur - Lacey Alexander [96]
Sloane looked doubtful and spoke dryly. “I can’t wait to hear.”
“We stay out here all night.”
He blinked in the moonlight.“And hope the clue fairy drops a few on us?”
“I was thinking,” she began, “about all the things we’ve found—the stolen items and Hawthorne’s body. When were they put in the places we found them—around the yard and in the secret garden? It couldn’t have been during the day—because we’ve been out quite frequently in the daytime hours, and besides, who would lurk around hiding things or dragging dead bodies away in the middle of the afternoon? Our culprit clearly moves at night—so we need to do a stakeout!”
“You watch too much TV.”
She harrumphed. “You think it’s a dumb idea.”
“No, I actually think it’s a good idea. But I still say you watch too much TV if you think using words like ‘stakeout’ is enough to make you a detective.”
Riley rolled her eyes, insisting she was a good detective, whether or not she’d had adequate chance to prove it to him yet, and Sloane ignored her, instead explaining that a good all-night stakeout generally required night goggles and snacks. He went to retrieve both as Riley stayed to man their post, eyes peeled.
A few minutes later, she heard the rustle of shrubbery. She looked to the right, toward the noise, but could see nothing in the darkness as the row of bushes in question was shadowed by the toolshed. Still, she realized someone had just walked past the porch into the backyard—thankfully, without seeing her.
Which was when her leg tickled and she glanced down past her shorts to spot, by the light of the moon, a large brown spider meandering up the side of her calf. Sweet mother of God! It was all she could do not to go shrieking through the yard, but she somehow managed to stay still. She needed, at the very least, to bat the grotesque intruder away—yet she bit her lower lip, knowing if she moved, even to knock the spider off, she’d be heard. Because she couldn’t see who traveled the backyard, but she could indeed hear soft movements as whoever it was padded over the flagstone path toward the gazebo—which meant even the slightest sound resulting from her movements could reveal her presence.
Riley’s eyes dropped back to the spider. Go away, go away, she willed it.
The spider apparently failed to receive her telepathic message, since it continued taking horribly tingly steps up her leg.
She tried to calm down and think. If you carefully flick the spider away, it can be done silently.You just can’t freak out and go running around as if you’re on fire. The act would require precision and composure. But a sensible and mature person could do it.
Still aware of movements beyond the porch in the dark, Riley leaned over, took bold, careful aim, and gave the spider a silent but strong flick. It disappeared into the night—and she still wanted to jump around and scream, but she restrained herself and forced slow, even breaths as she worked to remain very still in the swing.
She smiled to herself then, realizing she’d just dealt quite efficiently with one of her greatest fears. Take that, Sloane Bennett. She’d become a respected detective yet!
Just then, flames lit the gazebo! She might not be on fire, but the gazebo was! She gasped, stood up, and spotted in the light of the blaze none other than Edna Barnes, the Dorchesters’ housekeeper!
Just then, the back door opened and Sloane exited with a picnic basket in one hand and what looked like a pair of high-tech binoculars in the other. “What the hell?” he said, seeing the fire.
“It’s Edna!” she replied.
Edna looked up, clearly startled by their voices, then fled. “I’ll put out the blaze—you follow her!” Sloane said, dashing for the hose.
This was it—Riley’s big chance to apprehend a criminal! And it would be a lot more fun than fighting a fire, so she was glad Sloane had taken that task and left her this perfect opportunity for glory.
She sprinted through the deep backyard, unable to see much as she descended under the cover of the trees that dotted the area, their thick boughs