Page 19 of Black Curtain

He cleaned out the fridge and pantry.

He even cleaned off the brand new basement doors.

He helped them carry out tools, vacuumed, dumped the vacuum bag in the garbage, then handed the whole thing over to Pete so he could walk around and do a last inspection. By then, it was well over the ninety minutes he’d given them, and he wanted to wrap things up.

The client could show up at any time.

Dan would prefer to not have his people be working at all when the guy got here, if only so there’d be one less reason to prolong things.

As it turned out, they got it done just under the wire.

The crew was bringing out the last of the garbage bags and throwing them in the back of a van when the doorbell rang.

Dan was the one to let them in.

He walked through the echoing foyer, unlocked the bolt and swung open the massive door, likely the original that came with the house.

He hadn’t fully realized how dark it was inside until he found himself looking at four silhouettes against the streetlights outside, and the lights from the nearby streams of traffic.

It wasn’t sunset anymore.

It was full-blown night.

It was a testament to the work they’d done that you couldn’t tell at all when you were inside. It could have been midday, and Dan wouldn’t have known without looking at his watch.

He smiled, knowing they could probably see him, even if he couldn’t see them.

He reached for the light switches just inside the wall of the foyer as he did. He pressed the button to switch them on. As he did, he stepped backwards to let them inside.

When the large chandelier above the heavy wooden staircase flickered and then rose to full brightness, Dan blinked, then stared between the four faces.

He didn’t know any of them.

None of them belonged to the client.

They must have seen something in his eyes.

The shorter, female one in front smiled, exuding reassurance.

She held out a hand with blood-red, freshly manicured, acrylic nails.

“He couldn’t come,” she explained, before Dan could speak. “He sent us.”

Hesitating, Dan took her hand, wincing at how cold it was.

He forced himself to shake it.

The black-haired woman continued to smile as he did. Her lips were painted to perfectly match the color of her fingernails. They also matched the exact red of the six-inch, leather heels she wore. Her smile never changed, never altered. She didn’t blink. After holding it for a beat too long, she released his hand from the handshake, still smiling that perfect smile.

“…He asked us to collect the keys for him while he collects our friends from the airport,” she explained. “He apologizes. But as you know, this job operated on very thin margins in regards to time. He should be right behind us, Mr. Lamas.”

Dan relaxed slightly at the explanation.

He relaxed even more at the fact that the woman knew his name.

Still, nothing about this woman put him at ease.

He continued to look around at the faces of the four strangers, who now felt almost like they surrounded him, even though they stood in relaxed poses behind the shorter woman.

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