Page 43 of Finding Silence
“Are you serious? I have no idea how that’s possible. I installed that system myself.” He holds up both his hands. “Every sensor on every door and window was installed with these hands. Heck, the woman’s assistant or manager, or whatever she was, followed me around from room to room to make sure I didn’t miss a thing.”
I’m not a particularly technical person, but I know with the fast evolution of technology, whatever advantage is gained, is quickly followed by ways to undermine it.
“Is there a way to disable the alarm without it being visible on the app on her phone? Maybe if the power is cut off?”
He shakes his head. “It has a backup battery, and the moment the power went off, an alert would be sent to the alarm dispatch number and law enforcement, as well as whoever of my guys is on duty at the time would be sent to check it out.”
I run a hand through my hair, even more stumped than I was coming here. I thought for sure there had to have been a way.
“As for the video feed,” Roy continues. “From what I recall, we installed five mini cameras, mostly focused on the front and rear of the house, where most of the access points are. But…cameras can be avoided if you can find them or know where they are.”
When I walk back to my vehicle five minutes later, I don’t feel much wiser. But as I drive to the office, going over the information I got from Roy, a few things he said start niggling in the back of my mind.
I’m about a block away when a few pieces slide into place with a snap. I abruptly change direction and head up the mountain while calling Savvy.
I don’t even give her a chance to speak.
“What if there wasn’t just one, but two perps?”
Chapter 14
Phil
* * *
“Just leave that box over there.”
I watch the cleaner leave the box of remnants of my Grammys and my gold and platinum albums in the corner of the garage where Grace told him to leave it.
It was Grace’s idea to find someone able to come in right away to get the music room cleaned out. Even though someone had made an effort to get rid of most of the crap smeared on the wall and had attempted to air the room out, the smell of pot, urine, and human waste was still present, filtering all through the house.
I’m not sure how she managed to get a crew in on such short notice, but a woman and two men showed up a couple of hours ago. They worked like crazy, loading everything not salvageable onto the back of their truck, along with the carpet they ended up ripping out. There wasn’t much that could be saved in terms of my instruments, but those can be replaced, as can the carpet. It’s the awards, the things that carry more meaning, which are difficult to lose.
“I’ll try to get replacements,” Grace assures me when she catches my expression. “And if that’s not an option, I’ll find someone who can get those fixed.”
I nod, giving the box one last look. Then I turn my gaze out the open garage doors to the cleaners who pile into their truck and drive off, the back loaded high with what’s left of my belongings. With a sigh, I head back inside, leaving Grace to close the garage door.
Bleach fumes and some particularly pungent version of pine-scented cleaner assault my nose when I pass the stairs up to the loft. At least it doesn’t smell like an outhouse in here anymore, I guess it’s an improvement. Still, I move through my bathroom and bedroom to open the windows a crack, hoping the worst of the strong scents will have a chance to dissipate before I crawl into bed.
Bedtime will be sooner rather than later; I’m exhausted. The events of these past twenty-four hours or so have worn me plumb out, and in addition, I may still be feeling some of the effects of whatever was in that whiskey.
I quickly change into some clean comfort clothes—soft knit navy lounge pants and a matching oversized, long-sleeved shirt—and go in search of Grace.
Outside, dusk has settled in when I walk into the kitchen and find her sitting at the kitchen island, nursing a beer. Not a bad idea, but I need something in my stomach first, we kind of skipped dinner.
Diving into the fridge I pull out a beer, a wedge of brie, a piece of hard salami, and a cluster of grapes, putting all of it on the large bamboo board I keep on the counter. I grab a knife from the block and cut some chunks of cheese and sausage, and find a box of crackers in the pantry. Then I move the bamboo board to the island.
“Eat,” I order Grace, who hasn’t had anything to eat either, to my knowledge.
We dive into the simple, but satisfying, meal as we sip our beers.
“I meant to ask you,” Grace breaks the comfortable silence after a few minutes. “Did you have a chance to stop into the bank? I’m gonna need the new account number.”
Last time we spoke, I’d mentioned it would make more sense for me to open a bank account locally, so the money for the sale of the house could be transferred here, and I’d have easy access.
“With everything that’s been going on, I haven’t really had the time,” I confess. “I’ll get it done once this all settles down.”
Which I hope it does soon. This is not how I imagined my life in Silence would be. Of course, neither was an affair with my neighbor, but I’m enjoying that unexpected perk to living here.
