The property is screened by trees, my dear, and the nearest neighbor is acres away, so you don’t have to be concerned about being seen. The security patrol makes its check at ten P.M. and again at two A.M. You’ll be long gone by the two A.M. check.
Tracy looked at her watch. It was 11:00. The first patrol had gone. She had three hours before the patrol was due to arrive for its second check. Or three seconds to turn the car around and head back to New York and forget about this insanity. But head back to what? The images flashed unbidden into her mind. The assistant manager at Saks: “I’m terribly sorry, Miss Whitney, but our customers must be humored…”
“You can forget about running a computer. They’re not going to hire anybody with a record…”
“Twenty-five thousand tax-free dollars for an hour or two. If you have scruples, she’s really a horrible woman.”
What am I doing? Tracy thought. I’m not a burglar. Not a real one. I’m a dumb amateur who’s about to have a nervous breakdown.
If I had half a brain, I’d get away from here while there’s still time. Before the SWAT team catches me and there’s a shoot-out and they carry my riddled body to the morgue. I can see the headline: DANGEROUS CRIMINAL KILLED DURING BUNGLED BURGLARY ATTEMPT.
Who would be there to cry at her funeral? Ernestine and Amy. Tracy looked at her watch. “Oh, my God.” She had been sitting there, daydreaming, for twenty minutes. If I’m going to do it, I’d better move.
She could not move. She was frozen with fear. I can’t sit here forever, she told herself. Why don’t I just go take a look at the house? A quick look.
Tracy took a deep breath and got out of the car. She was wearing black coveralls; her knees were shaking. She approached the house slowly, and she could see that it was completely dark.
Be sure to wear gloves.
Tracy reached in her pocket, took out a pair of gloves, and put them on. Oh, God, I’m doing it, she thought. I’m really going ahead with it. Her heart was pounding so loudly she could no longer hear any other sounds.
The alarm is to the left of the front door. There are five buttons. The red light will be on, which means the alarm is activated. The code to turn it off is three-two-four-one-one. When the red light goes off, you’ll know the alarm is deactivated. Here’s the key to the front door. When you enter, be sure to close the door after you. Use this flashlight. Don’t turn on any of the lights in the house in case someone happens to drive past. The master bedroom is upstairs, to your left, overlooking the bay. You’ll find the safe behind a portrait of Lois Bellamy. It’s a very simple safe. All you have to do is follow this combination.
Tracy stood stock-still, trembling, ready to flee at the slightest sound. Silence. Slowly, she reached out and pressed the sequence of alarm buttons, praying that it would not work. The red light went out. The next step would commit her. She remembered that airplane pilots had a phrase for it: the point of no return.
Tracy put the key in the lock, and the door swung open. She waited a full minute before she stepped inside. Every nerve in her body throbbed to a savage beat as she stood in the hallway, listening, afraid to move. The house was filled with a deserted silence. She took out a flashlight, turned it on, and saw the staircase. She moved forward and started up. All she wanted to do now was get it over with as quickly as possible and run.
The upstairs hallway looked eerie in the glow of her flashlight, and the wavering beam made the walls seem to pulse back and forth. Tracy peered into each room she passed. They were all empty.
The master bedroom was at the end of the hallway, looking out over the bay, just as Morgan had described it. The bedroom was beautiful, done in dusky pink, with a canopied bed and a commode decorated with pink roses. There were two love seats, a fireplace, and a table in front of it for dining. I almost lived in a house like this with Charles and our baby, Tracy thought.