Close To The Edge

When the gap widened, I drove through. Compared to the other houses on the street, hers was on a smaller scale but still impressive enough to blend comfortably into the neighborhood.

Built on two levels with a tapered roof, the tiered white European-style mansion took up several thousand square feet, with tall rectangular paned windows that drew an inward grimace. All her stalker needed was a decent set of binoculars and he could follow her every move when she was home. And that second floor tier was also a problem especially if my suspicion that one or all of the bedrooms came with a terrace overlooking the backyard was confirmed.

The front door looked solid enough, though. I couldn’t do anything about the Roman pillars framing the front porch, but the seven-foot potted plants on either side of the door needed to be relocated.

She opened her door and jumped out. I stopped myself from growling my annoyance and got out, reaching her just as she climbed the last step onto the stone-laid porch.

I touched her upper arm. “Wait.”

Apprehension flickered across her face. “Your security people were just here. Surely you—?”

“Can’t be too careful. Keys?”

She dug through her satchel and handed the keys over. I unlocked the door and saw a large foyer.

“There’s a light switch on your left,” she said.

I flicked it on, bathing the large space in a warm golden glow. An alarm beeped from a panel next to the switch. I entered the code.

Silence settled in as I took in the layout of the first floor. Two short corridors forked from the entrance foyer on either side of a grand staircase made of wood and trellised iron. At the end of the left hallway, I saw shadowy frames of sofas and a coffee table, which meant the right hallway probably led to the kitchen.