Page 93 of Buried Too Deep

Better that dude get caught than me.

Sage had had his answer when one of the bodyguards opened the front door and shined a flashlight around. The man had run back into the shadows of the neighbors’ homes and the bodyguard had gone back into the house. The whole episode had taken less than a minute, which meant that they had cameras and had seen the guy lurking outside.

Sage had decided that a search of the house was now too risky. Broussard’s people had cameras and a quick response.

He’d been right to wait. Now there were a lot more people in Winslow’s house. Three bodyguards plus the Winslow woman. He’d been able to see their silhouettes in the attic window as they’d taken the intruder down.

Throw in a detective and a couple of cops who’d responded to the scene, and the house was too damn crowded for him.

Broussard’s people had been searching the attic for sure. The room had been bright as day for hours that evening, like a beacon lighting the night.

Which made Sage wonder what the hell they were looking for. But checking for himself wasn’t worth the risk.

He’d been chafing at the bit, needing to do something, to learn something, but he wouldn’t be doing that in Winslow’s house.

Sage was frustrated that Alan hadn’t gone back into his safe.

Not yet.

But maybe the old man could be nudged a little.

Sage dialed his grandfather’s cell phone, gratified when a sleepy Alan answered.

“What?”

Sage grinned. He’d woken the old bastard up to boot. Bonus. “I know you told me to stay away from Cora Winslow, but I can’t let it go. I failed in Broussard’s office and I need to make it up to you.”

“What have you done?” Alan asked coldly, the venom in his voice plain to hear.

Which meant that his grandfather had been sleeping alone. He’d never let Lexy hear him talking like that. The only people who ever heard that tone were Sage and one or two others who’d had the misfortune to be inducted into Alan’s closest circle.

Sage made his tone properly respectful, even though it nearly made him gag. “Nothing, I swear. I haven’t interacted with the Winslow woman or the woman she visited this morning. But I’m sitting on the curb a block from her house and the police are there.”

“Why?” Alan asked, suddenly more alert.

“Those PIs she hired have been searching her attic and once they all left, some dude tried to break in. Climbed to the third-floor balcony with a gas can in his hand. I know we didn’t hire him. Did we?”

“No,” Alan snapped. “We did not.”

Sage didn’t know if he believed that or not.

Probably not. Considering the secret safe with secret guns, it seemed that Alan had a secret agenda going.

“How long was the ‘dude’ in the house?” Alan demanded.

“Not long at all. I think the PIs had set a trap for him. There were three people from Broussard’s firm in the house, along with Cora Winslow. I don’t think this guy expected that.”

“I see. That’s valuable information. When did they begin searching the attic?”

“They’ve been at it all evening tonight. Last night, too.”

“See if you can find out what they were looking for, but do not take risks. One of the first things Broussard would have done is make sure she had a good security system. I don’t want you to get caught.”

How caring of the old man. But the care was only for himself. Alan used everyone. Including me.

“I don’t want to get caught, either. The area’s too hot right now.”

Breaking into his grandfather’s safe would be much less risky and a much more productive use of his time.

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