Elementary, My Dear Watkins (26 page)

“Anyway,” Jo said, “I’m sorry I woke you up. I think I’ll hit the sack too. I just didn’t want you to wonder what was going on if Chewie decided to bark or something.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Alexa closed the door, tossing the socks onto the dresser and listening for the thud and click of Jo’s closing door. Once she heard it, Alexa went to the bed, pulled out everything she had shoved underneath, and slowly changed back into her getaway clothes, wondering how long she would have to wait tonight before it would be safe to make her move.

Jo felt terrible. Here she was with a labrador retriever and the poor girl across the hall was scared of dogs! Jo knew she’d have to take things slowly, showing Alexa how sweet Chewie was, and how fun. Maybe tomorrow they could play catch in the yard with his big new bone. He was sure to win over the girl’s heart eventually. And at least Alexa seemed to like the socks.

Jo began to unpack, sliding her clothes onto hangers or slipping them into drawers. She put the suitcases with the stuff from her office near the door and left them alone for now, deciding that she would talk to her grandmother in the morning to see if she could have a little corner in either the newly enhanced carriage house or the studio to do her work. That was one good thing about living on an estate—there was always room for whatever you wanted to do.

Jo put down food and water for Chewie, and soon after, Consuela appeared at the door with a tray of food for Jo, which she set up on the table in the corner, as she had the night before.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

“It is not a problem,” Consuela replied. “We knew you would be late, so I kept your dinner warm in the oven.”

Unfortunately, Jo didn’t have much of an appetite. When she had eaten all she could, she put the tray in the hall, said goodnight to her bodyguard, came back into the room, and opened up her laptop. Glad to see that the house had wireless Internet, she went online and typed out a careful reply to the e-mail she had received that morning from Toaster Man. Although the police might disagree, Jo decided the best way to handle him was to sound as though she was making friends with him. The more she could get him to say, after all, the more clues she might have for discovering his identity.

It was more than the police had done so far. According to Jo’s grandmother, who had just been turning in for the night when Jo arrived, she had managed to get an update on the case but it wasn’t looking good, with no new leads or breaks. Even Jo’s sweater had no clear fingerprints on it at all, which the lab blamed primarily on the type of fabric. Bradford was doing a little better in the hospital. Though he had been questioned by the police, he was so out of it that his answers had made little sense and had not shed any new light on things.

Exhausted, Jo got ready for bed and slipped under the covers, Chewie settling down at her feet. She closed her eyes, glad that he seemed to be adapting well to his temporary new home. She prayed she would remain adaptable too.

Jo was almost asleep when she heard Chewie growl, but she had a feeling that he was just bothered by the sound of the bodyguards’ shift change in the hallway outside of her door. Jo put a hand on his back and spoke in soothing tones until he quieted down. Then, not hearing any more sounds, she closed her eyes again and finally drifted off to sleep.

I
f she hadn’t dropped her flashlight as she was closing the window, Alexa would have made it out of there without a sound. As it was, at least the thing landed on her foot first with just a soft thud, but then it rolled across the stone floor of the veranda, making a bit of a clatter.

Alexa crouched down under the window, pressed herself against the wall, and waited in case anyone had heard and tried to take a look. At least the dog didn’t bark.

After counting to one hundred, she crawled several feet to retrieve the light, slipped it carefully into her pocket, and then took the chance to peek in through the hall window. There was a man sitting in a chair outside of Jo’s room, only it wasn’t Fernando this time but some big, muscle guy. At first Alexa thought maybe they were keeping Jo prisoner in the Rose room at night, but then she realized that it must be the opposite, that the man was there to keep other people out, almost like a bodyguard. Alexa wasn’t sure why that might be necessary, but she didn’t have time to worry about it now.

Silently, she crept to the back stairs and went down, pausing at the bottom to listen for the sounds of the night. Having spent her entire life in the city, she didn’t like the quiet out here when it got dark. Where were the distant sirens, the honking horns, the families yelling at each other a couple of houses down? Here, instead, there were just crickets and rustling trees, and sometimes far in the distance other animal sounds she didn’t quite recognize.

Now, however, she heard something else, and it sounded like voices. Men’s voices, from around the front of the house. She could smell cigarette smoke too.

Crouching, Alexa pressed herself against the bottom of the banister and listened as hard as she could. Finally, she heard one of them say “back to work,” and then feet crunching on gravel. Suddenly, the beam of a strong flashlight clicked on, illuminating the curve of the driveway out front. Alexa held her breath, remaining perfectly still and watching as the person holding the flashlight appeared in view, walking along the driveway toward the garage, playing the beam of light out in front of him. She couldn’t quite tell in the dark, but it looked as though the man had on a uniform of some kind.

Was he a cop?

Torn about what to do, she decided to go back up the stairs and look over the front balcony to see if she could spot the man he’d been talking to. Sure enough, once she crept up to the front of the house and peered over the side, she was directly above a guy who was just standing there, hands on his hips, surveying the driveway in front of him. There was a walkie-talkie crackling softly from his hip, and then suddenly another voice came out of the static, saying, “All clear around the garage. I’m going to sweep the perimeter.”

This man took the walkie-talkie from his belt, pressed a button, and said, simply, “Ten four.” Then he put it back and just kept standing there.

Alexa studied his uniform and finally decided that he was a security guard. They were both security guards.

Great. Just what she needed. Added security. Alexa couldn’t imagine why that might be necessary, but around rich people, she had learned, you just never knew. The old lady had probably bought some expensive new diamond necklace or something and they needed to guard it.

Whatever it was, Alexa felt certain it had nothing to do with her—though it sure was going to make it harder to get out of here.

She hesitated for a moment and then made her decision. Creeping back down the stairs, she stayed next to the banister until she spotted the man’s flashlight far in the distance out back. If he was the one who was sweeping the perimeter, then she needed to go now, behind him, so she could make her escape before he came around again.

Alexa clenched her teeth and took off, running through the shadows to a big tree near the garage, then running from tree to tree all the way to the fence along the pasture. She climbed over, devastated when she ripped a hole in her leggings at the knee. From there, she could see the flashlight beam a lot better, and from what she could tell, the guy really was just walking around the edge of the property along the stone wall.

He was far enough away for her to take off running, which she did as best she could, terrified about crossing the wide, open expanse of the pasture, knowing her weak right foot might give out on her at any time. The foot held, though, and except for nearly tripping once or twice, she made it past the old well and all the way to the stable.

The building was creepy and dark, but she hugged it tightly as she made her way along the side, looking for signs of the road that was supposed to be here, the one on the map she’d found yesterday. Behind the stables, things were kind of overgrown and weedy, but once she spotted two rusted old handles, she realized that they were connected to two huge double doors. Guessing that the driveway led right to those doors, she walked directly from there to the stone wall, thrilled beyond belief when she finally spotted a big gate that was almost completely overgrown with ivy.

Making her way through the undergrowth and praying there weren’t snakes in the grass, she ran her hands all along the gate, moving the ivy out of the way until she found a rusted old padlock hanging from the center. It was locked up tight, but now that she’d made it this far, she wasn’t about to let that stop her. Her biggest reservation was simply that she hated to mess up her clothes. She had worn one of her favorite outfits tonight, not any of that classy, expensive stuff the old lady had bought but something Alexa had brought back with her the last time she snuck out: black leggings, a supershort jean skirt, a tight, black tank top, and a jean jacket.

Careful not to stretch the hole she’d already torn at the knee, she stepped up on the lowest wrought iron rail of the gate and tried to figure out how she might climb over. She never would have been able to make it over the top of the stone wall, but the gate might be a different story. It had three horizontal bars reinforcing the vertical ones, and she used them like a ladder, mustering every bit of strength she had to pull herself up.

Maneuvering herself over the top of the gate wasn’t quite so easy, especially because her right hand was starting to feel very shaky and weak. Concentrating, she simply focused on not falling, and eventually she was able to swing herself over the top and come back down the other side. When her feet touched the dirt, she took a deep breath and said a prayer of thanks that she had made it.

Then she stood up straight, brushed the grass and leaves from her clothes, and tried to figure out where she was. Sure enough, there was a road on this side of the gate, but it was old and dusty and obviously hadn’t been used for a while, at least not right there. Looking up the road, she could see that it was lined on each side by split rail fences and then pastures. She had a feeling that the road ran between two different estates because she could see two different barns in the distance, one on each side of the road.

Taking her chances, Alexa simply started walking up the dirt road, hoping it would lead to the main road where she expected it to. If it did, there was a bus stop just a little way down, used primarily by all of the hired help who came into this rich area each morning and left each evening. According to the schedule she had pulled off of the Internet, a bus would be along there in about 20 minutes. She started walking, dirty and sweaty, proud of what she’d pulled off, and not even all that scared anymore.

She reached the bus stop without incident, and though it took her a while to get where she was going, after two transfers and countless stops, Alexa was almost there. She finally had fixed herself up the best she could along the way, brushing the dirt and grass off of her clothes, adding a wide metal belt and some chunky plastic jewelry, teasing up her hair and putting on more eyeliner. Now that she was close, she was really nervous. Getting there had taken so long that she was afraid they might all be in bed by now.

The bus pulled to a stop, but as Alexa walked up the aisle to get off, the driver said, “You sure this is your stop, kid?”

His voice sounded nice, but when she looked at him to reply, she could see disdain in his eyes. Was it really that much of a stretch to think she could live in a rich neighborhood like this one?

Maybe it was.

“I’m here to visit my aunt.”

He just sat there, still looking suspicious, until she added, “She’s the maid at the Peterson’s, fourth house on the right.”

That seemed to placate him. He swung open the door and she climbed off, wishing a spring would pop in his seat and give him a good spanking. What a jerk.

The street was quiet once the bus rattled away. Alexa pulled the printout from her backpack, studied it for a minute, and then put it back and started walking. By her calculations, she only had to go two blocks up and one block over and she would be there.