Page 13 of Nobody's Fool

Now what?

I should go home, of course. Take a breath. Talk to Molly. Do some research. I have Anna’s location now. At least, I think I do. For all I know this is just a pit stop. Or she’s visiting a friend who lives here. Or she’s spending a few hours or just one night. She could, in fact, move on in an hour or tomorrow or anytime.

I check the battery icon in the upper left-hand corner. The tracker only has eleven percent left. What’s that give me in terms of tracking? Another hour tops?

Then Anna could disappear again.

Can’t risk that, can I?

The streets are still, the only real illumination coming from my headlights. I don’t think I’ve seen another car in the past three or four miles. I head down the wooded road closest to where the tracker tells me Anna is. There is a driveway through a break in the trees. I slow and see that the driveway is blocked by a wrought iron grill gate. The gate is tall with spikes on top. There is a hut next to the gate. The light is on in the hut, and I can see the silhouette of what I assume is a security guard.

Hefty protection for a private home.

If this is indeed a private home.

I quickly look for a sign or house number or anything like that—I don’t want to linger—but there’s nothing. I debate driving up to the gate, but then what? It’s after ten p.m. I can’t pretend I’m delivering a package—and saying “I’m here to see Anna,” well, I just don’t think that’s going to play.

Impulse Me still wants to make that play. Impulse Me wants to drive right up to the security guard and say, “I’m here to see Anna.Tell her it’s Sami Kierce and we met in the Costa del Sol of Spain twenty-two years ago.” Impulse Me often makes mistakes. Impulse Me was the one who ran out of that bedroom and left Anna behind. Impulse Me was the one who went to the Fuengirola police station and reported a murder to Osorio. Impulse Me chased PJ onto that roof and made him fall. Impulse Me let Maya Stern go unaccompanied to Farnwood, Judith Burkett’s enormous estate, a mistake which led to my fall from quasi grace.

Maybe Impulse Me should stay out of this—but either way, I’m not just going home.

I drive slowly down the heavily wooded street and pull off where I see a little opening. My car is still visible from the road, but only if you’re looking hard for it. I turn off the engine and make sure the interior lights are off. I don’t think anyone will see, but then again I don’t plan on being here long enough for the police to call a tow truck. I grab a piece of paper and pen from the glove compartment and scribble a note: “Car Broke Down, Back Soon.” I debate adding that I’m a police officer, but that is both beside the point and no longer true.

I get out of the car. The night is crisp, the tang of autumn in the air. The stars are bright out here in a way you never get in the city. I’m holding the app like a compass. The tracker I put in Anna’s pocket is two-tenths of a mile from where I now stand, but the entire trek is through the woods.

No reason to dawdle.

I start into the trees. I debate turning on my phone flashlight, but out of an abundance of caution, I’d rather leave it off for now. It is hard to see more than a few feet in front of my face. I walk Frankenstein style, arms lifted and parallel to the ground, hands stretched out so I don’t walk into a tree face-first.

Once I’m inside the woods, the trees thin a bit, making my trek faster. I don’t know what kind of security they have out here. The manned gate was impressive, but that didn’t mean you could guard anentire estate that way. It may have been for show. They could have trip wire in the woods, I guess, or motion detectors, but that’s unlikely. There are many deer and squirrels and assorted suburban wildlife out here. There would be too many false alarms.

I keep moving. I’m not quiet about it, hearing twigs and leaves beneath my feet, but what else can I do? When I am within a tenth of a mile of the tracker, I start seeing lights filtering through the trees. I move closer and, as though on cue, a huge estate begins to rise on the horizon. I stop and look at the tracker. According to the help section on the app, the tracker is accurate to within ten meters. Assuming that’s correct, Anna and/or her coat is inside the estate.

The tracker battery is down to eight percent. I am at the clearing now. I stay on the edge, half in the woods, half on the start of a large expanse of lawn. The house itself is a jaw-dropper—an enormous Colonial-style stone castle that looks like something out ofThe Great Gatsby. The landscape lights illuminate sprawling symmetrical gardens with matching topiary on either side. There is a pool and a glass-house cabana. Two cars are parked near the door—a Porsche and a Mercedes, both black.

No other movement. No guards patrolling the grounds.

As I watch, debating what to do, a light goes on in an upstairs bedroom on the left. I duck down, even though I’m still a good one hundred yards away from the house. I get my breathing back under control and look toward the window.

Anna walks by it.

I check my watch. Almost eleven p.m. I quickly run through my next possible moves. Should I just knock on the door or ring the bell or whatever? Just be direct? That seems weird and I don’t know how security, assuming there is some, might react. Still, it’s a possibility. I could also maybe, I don’t know, grab some pebbles and toss them at her window. That feels a little too “movie,” if you will—and the most logical outcome from such a move would be her screaming for help.

But do I care if she does?

I want to get to her. I want an explanation.

It is then, as I stand there and consider my options, mere seconds after I saw Anna at the window, that I hear dogs.

I should point out that I love dogs. When Henry is a little older, Molly and I want to get a friendly little Havanese for our family.

This doesn’t sound like a friendly little Havanese.

This sounds like—and now looks to be—several snarling Doberman pinschers. They are hurtling full speed right down the center of the symmetrical gardens.

Toward me.

My heart leaps into my throat. No need for Impulse Me to tell me what to do. I snap-turn to run back through the woods, knowing I have no chance of outrunning the dogs. Zero. I jump two steps back into the woods and I can tell by the barking the dogs are mere seconds away. I take one more step and then one of the Dobermans leaps up and he knocks me down.

---