Page 9 of Crawl
“I can’t do anything,” she says.
“I can.”
Her tears stop. I stretch my fingers, keeping them close to my sides. One way or another, I will bring Cash down. For both of us. For everyone who has been manipulated by disgusting alpha filth.
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” she warns.
I smile evenly, my mind filling with visions of ripping Winstone’s teeth out with pliers.
“He’s got surveillance cameras everywhere, right?” I say. I flick a hand to the side like she’s silly to question my intentions. “All I have to do is get access to the recorded footage of him assaulting you. Then we’ll have undeniable proof. We’ll sue LPAandthat asshole.”
Jenna bites her fingernails, her cheeks redder than her lips. “But what if you get caught?”
I don’t care if LPA fires me. It’s a good job, but I don’t get attached to anything anymore.
“I’ll find somewhere else to work,” I say.
I stand up, moving one of the blind slats to check the weather. Gray clouds sail across the sky. I pull out a black cardigan from the hall closet, my eyes stopping over a wooden hatch in the flooring. A small metal loop shines in the dim light. The door is big enough for a person to fit through, but I don’t remember seeing it before. Has it always been here?
“Is that from the new insulation?” Jenna asks, peeking over my shoulder.
“Hell if I know.” I grab my purse from the desk, the house keys jingling in my palm. “Must have been the maintenance guy.”
“What maintenance guy?” Jenna’s eyes widen as I pass her.“You’re leavingnow?”
I tilt my head. “Why not?”
“You literally just scolded me about going out during the day with the Key West Killer, and now you’re going to a man’s house, alone,at night?”
A random killer isn’t important; I’m used to dealing with people who lack morals, like my stepfamily. Besides,Winstoneis my enemy. If I happen to stumble upon the Key West Killer, I’ll ask him to help me get rid of Winstone.
“I’m fine,” I say. “But call Peter. Make him escort you home again.” She nods, happy to rely on a cop. And to be honest, right then, I’m glad she is too. “Stay inside here until he gets here, all right?”
She bows her head. “Be careful.”
I hop in my car, taking the short drive over to the Winstone Estate. Most people keep their master passwords near their computers, and though Winstone is—I regret to admit—smart,he seems too complacent to be protective over his security. He seems to think he’s invincible.
And I’ll prove him wrong.
I park a block away, then quietly get out of my car. The palm branches rustle against one another, like a tranquil current. It’s quiet tonight, almost like the PSAs running on cable television are actually working; people are too afraid to go out, knowing that the Key West Killer doesn’t have a pattern when it comes to his victims. Young, old, woman, man, black, white. Everyone is fair game. My stomach flops, but I clench my fists. Fear of an invisible killer isn’t going to stop me.
I open the front door as quietly as I can. The red lights from each of the security cameras glow like monster eyes. My pulse races. There’s no way I can avoid surveillance, but Icanmake up a lie. I go through ideas in my head:
I forgot to clean the litter box.
I left my phone in the kitchen.
I wanted to make sure you closed the windows, because of the serial killer, you know?
The sea breeze blows through the house, goosebumps bubbling my skin. I slip off my gym shoes, using my socks to move noiselessly through the house. I check each open door, trying to establish where he is, but the door to the downstairs office distracts me. The surveillance footage has to be in there.
I check his personal computer, typing a few passwords that other clients have used, including the password to his Wi-Fi. I even try his address, thenWinstoneEstate1889,but nothing works. What am I supposed to do now?
Screw it.
I crawl under the desk, unplugging the hard drive, then carry the electronic brick to the front door. Once I have both hard drives, I can hightail it out of Florida until I find someone to hack the footage. Getting the footage is the hardest part, and I’m so close to finishing.
I hold my breath as I stop in the kitchen. The refrigerator hums, and those cameras hiss as they follow me. Still, I run my fingertips over the handles in the knife block. Winstone has anger issues that he exposed to Jenna, but does he carry a gun? What if he thinks I’m a random intruder? Can I make him believe that I’m not trespassing before he realizes that I’m stealing his hard drives?
