Staying within the shadow of the house, Carlos approached Kim’s screened back porch. The knife flashed briefly in the dim light as Carlos cut a slit in the screen just long enough for him to silently slip through. Burglary was Carlos’s true forte; the killing talent had been born of necessity.
Kim turned off the main road and drove through the gate marking the boundary of Balmoral Estates. He glanced in the rearview mirror to see Tracy’s car follow suit. He was pleased that she was willing to help him with his hair, more for her company than from need. He was also pleased about her offer to make them something to eat. Kim couldn’t remember the last time he had an actual meal although he guessed it had been Thursday night.
After parking his car in front of his garage, Kim gathered his bundles and went back to meet Tracy as she climbed from her car. It was raining harder than ever. In total darkness, they navigated the black pools that had formed along the front walk.
When they reached the cover of the porch, Tracy offered to hold the packages while Kim got out his key.
“No need,” Kim said. “The door’s unlocked.”
“That’s not very wise,” Tracy commented.
“Why not?” Kim said. “There’s not much in the house to take, and it makes it easier for the realtor.”
“I suppose,” Tracy said, unconvinced. She opened the door, and they entered the foyer.
They took off their coats and wiped the moisture from their foreheads. Then they carried their parcels into the kitchen.
“I’ll tell you what,” Tracy said while putting her bag of groceries onto the countertop, “I’m happy to make us something to eat and help you with your hair, but first I’d really like to take a shower and warm up. Would you mind?”
“Mind?” Kim questioned. “Not at all. Help yourself.”
“It’s sad to say,” Tracy added, “but the shower is the only thing I miss about this house.”
“I understand completely,” Kim said. “It was the only thing we made our own. There’s a robe in with the towels if you’d like. Of course you also have some clothes here, but I moved them out to the hall closet.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll find something,” Tracy said.
“I had a shower at the hospital,” Kim said. “So I’ll start a fire in the fireplace here in the family room. Maybe it will make this empty house a little less depressing.”
While Tracy headed upstairs, Kim got out a flashlight from the kitchen junk drawer, and headed down to the basement where the firewood was stored. He turned on the light, but the single bulb had never been adequate to light the huge, cluttered cellar.
Kim had never felt comfortable in basements because of a disturbing experience he’d had in the basement of the home where he’d grown up. When Kim was six, his older brother had locked him in an unused wine cellar and then forgot about him. With the insulated door, no one had heard Kim’s hysterical cries or his frantic pounding. It was only after his mother became worried he’d not appeared for dinner that his brother had remembered where he was.
Kim could not go down to the basement without remembering the terror he’d felt thirty-eight years previously. When he heard a thump in a neighboring storeroom as he loaded wood in his arms, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He froze and listened. He heard the noise again.
Steeling himself against the desire to flee. Kim put the wood down. Taking the flashlight, he walked over to the door to the storeroom. It took strength of will to make himself push the door open with his foot and shine the light in. A half dozen pairs of tiny red ruby like points of light stared back at him before scampering off.
Kim breathed a sigh of relief. He went back to the woodpile to finish loading up.
Tracy had climbed the stairs, feeling a twinge of nostalgia. It had been some time since she’d been on the second floor of the house. Outside of Becky’s room, she’d paused, gazing at the closed door and wondering if she dare enter. Compromising, she merely opened the door and stood on the threshold.